When I drafted the weekly schedule of this project several months ago, it made the most sense to me to take the first few weeks and dedicate them to movies, to help a discussion get started in a well defined space. I would separate the first three weeks into the broad genres of Family Films, The Superhero genre, and…
There didn’t seem to be a perfect third category for movies to fit under, but since I needed other weeks for different mediums, it made the most sense to try to tackle “classic” movies. This is, of course, much harder to define than the other two genres which I saw as being particularly influential in 2019.
How do you define a classic? How can we know which movies we are commonly familiar with should be considered in this discussion? Does it matter what we include or don’t include? And lastly, is it even possible for there to be a single technique of story structure that creates classic movies?
The last question is the one I hope to answer, and while it may not be solved this week, taking the time to identify a wide range of “classics” should yield techniques which we can look to in the future of this project.
So, without further ado, let’s jump in to more individual analysis of seven of these films, before concluding on what similarities they might have.
1.) Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (1977)
While it may not be the earliest release of the seven movies I’m exploring today, it makes sense to me that A New Hope should be first on the list. Not only does it hold its status of starting one of the biggest media franchises of all time, spawning a trilogy of trilogies, it also accounts for the first major instance of multimedia storytelling.
Multimedia storytelling can be defined as a franchise or story world which engages their audience in multiple mediums. An example of this can be when a cinematic world – like the Star Wars universe, tells stories in mediums like television, books, graphic novels, and anything in between.
From A New Hope‘s instant success, we can see that a popular fascination in multimedia storytelling began to grow. While it did not originally have the subtitle or Episode number when it was released in ’77, Episode 5 was released with the complete moniker on its release, quickly solidifying the films as part of something bigger. In a broad sense, George Lucas’ decision to release the films as Episodes Four, Five, and Six obviously implied the eventual backtracking to the prequel trilogy.
Such a decision allowed fans to be excited for what was to come without having much doubt of whether it would come or not, a move which does not seem odd to us now, but was brand new at the time.
As for the original Star Wars story, there is nothing about it that was particularly new structurally, and while its world was vibrant with potential, this film that is considered a modern day monument of genre is actually fairly typical. And this makes sense. While working on his story, George Lucas explicitly worked through it with Joseph Campbell, a story scholar who defined what we commonly refer to as The Hero’s Journey. In his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Campbell illustrates a seventeen-step formula for a typical hero’s story, a formula which Lucas utilized with minimal adaptation.
If anything, Luke is stereotypical rather than a hero which brought about new concepts in story. However, this is not a complaint about the film – which I do have – as the Hero’s Journey was created to be a model of what audiences enjoy in their stories. Given this knowledge, I would posit that much of Star Wars‘ popularity comes from the combination of a traditional, by the numbers bildungsroman, and its established-from-day-one franchise.
2.) The Godfather (1972)
Before Lucas made his big debut into theaters, Francis Ford Coppola’s magnum opus made waves in one of the big sub-genres of the time – crime drama. The Godfather is widely considered to be the quintessential crime drama, and its place in literary canon is larger than nearly any other movie of its time.
However, it represents a work which I am very unsure of regarding story structure. I will never claim that story structure is the single thing which makes a work stand the test of time or not, or that it is guaranteed to be the most important aspect in that quest for every piece of literature, but it nevertheless befuddles me that there isn’t something clear about its story which stands out as particularly moving. However, I do have a few thoughts.
Perhaps it is something as simple as the severed horse head which appears so early in the movie, standing as such an outlandish consequence to Johnny Fontane’s potential inclusion in his Hollywood gig. The moves made by the film’s Dons, capos, and mafioso may act as an attractive element, but I don’t buy that it affirms the entire narrative’s placement in the classics.
Or maybe the horse’s head acts as an obvious Anchor which The Reference will make use of in literature in the future, and that acts as an attraction. Having set up such a unique, simple yet complex symbol for other works to reference may interfere with this as well.
Lastly, The Godfather may be considered so frequently for its characters fitting so believably into its world. This is a trait which I have attributed to Baby Driver in the past, but I don’t know that it alone can serve as creating a monument of genre. Under the assumption that is does, the world in which the Corleone’s live and work is entirely believable, mostly because we understand it to be our own world, if not a version of it that is ingrained in what has passed. The world does not feel like it was created specifically for Vito, Mike, and the rest of the families, but rather the characters act as natural cogs within the greater space.
So, perhaps story structure doesn’t fit in perfectly with The Godfather‘s longevity, but philosophy just may. This will be our first major dive into the hardcore philosophy behind a film, so as a preface, I will explain how I typically go about philosophy discussion:
Having a background in literary technique, I will frequently make claims about what a movie is saying objectively, however an important thing to keep in mind is that objective truths in philosophy are nearly always subjective. So naturally, as I discuss what I see in a film, it is perfectly valid for someone else to not see it. I also will not go into extreme depth regarding the specifics of many philosophies, because droning on forever is not friendly to the blog format, and certainly not my SEO practices. That being said, let’s just jump into it.
When we think about the moral teachings behind any story, we’re dealing with Ethics, perhaps the most readily available branch of philosophy. Naturally, this will be the branch I lean on most throughout the course of this project.
In The Godfather, we can see an interesting conversation that tows the line between two of the most popular ethical theories: Deontology and Utilitarianism. In the film, Vito Corleone – and later his son – go to extreme lengths to secure the family’s monetary success, and the process with which he goes about this is quite narrowed and specific. Corleone puts family above everything else, with business being naturally tied into the crime family. Vito seems to adopt the Deontological views of Immanuel Kant with some adaptations. The Categorical Imperative which Kant defines – “Act only on that maxim with which you may at the same time will that it be universal” – becomes less about the true universality of the maxim, but rather the micro-universe in which his family lives. Additionally, he lives by an almost-Utilitarian code at the same time. He is willing to do whatever it takes to secure his success, but unlike the traditional Utilitarian, his actions are not determined by the greater good, but rather the minute good of his family.
In general, The Godfather shows that with slight modifications to preexisting ethical systems, we can come to fairly nasty ways of living that still seem justified and systematic. If I had to draw a societal conclusion from this, I would say that it implies that we enjoy watching moral systems play out that we can recognize as wholly wrong? I am hesitant to believe that, but we will see as our discussion continues through the following weeks.
3.) Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986)
From here we will be moving chronologically, so up to bat is an old favorite of mine, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. This film and I have a history, with me having seen it multiple times in highschool, of all places, and it always hit me with the strides of what high school might’ve been like if I wasn’t downtrodden with my particular mental afflictions. As much as I love myself, there is something about Ferris Bueller that has always compelled me to no end. Surprisingly, this isn’t just caused from his overwhelming charisma.
After my latest rewatch of the movie, I found that not only does it act as an incredible character study for its titular role, it also serves as a deep dive into a vast variety of characters’ lives despite its fairly linear A and B plot structure.
Ferris himself is portrayed as being a lovable punk, and while he may seem one dimensional for a large majority of the film, his genuine love for Sloane (his girlfriend) and Cam (his diametrically opposed best friend) shines through his leisurely, don’t-give-a-damn attitude. Despite being so carefree, Ferris is active when it comes to achieving his goals, and acts with extreme conviction when he must show off his ideals to the world around him.
What interests me most about the movie in regards to structure is the idea that our protagonist is a flat character, easily displayed in his fourth wall breaks, hyper-awareness of surroundings he could never feasibly recognize, and absent change of views by the end of the story. Instead of our protagonist needing change, the movie presents his side kick as the structural hero, Cameron. Cam goes through the traditional hero’s journey, which we have the pleasure of watching unfold from Ferris’ perspective. With how direct the movie addresses its audience, it becomes clear when Cam stops letting Ferris take action for him, and when he takes action for himself.
This tweak to the hero’s journey is extremely unexplored, and it is my belief that Ferris Bueller stands the test of time largely for it.
4.) Forrest Gump (1994)
Forrest Gump is a movie that needs no introduction, as its impact has reached nearly all modern day viewers. Moving well past its intended audience of Vietnam veterans and the generation of their children, the film is widely renowned by older and younger viewers alike. I would be a fool to not recognize much of this acclaim being intrinsically linked to Tom Hanks’ stellar performance. However, I would argue that behind his artistry is an equally important force in the film’s popularity, and it has a lot to do with Number 6 on this list.
Forrest Gump follows in multiple pathways of a similar tradition to Hot Fuzz: The Reference. It uses The Reference to its advantage in two major ways.
First, its Close Tense Writing, which I define as a work’s individual line structure and dialogue practices. This differs from Grand Tense Writing, which involves how a story’s plot is composed. That aside, the close tense work put into Forrest Gump seems purposefully memorable, with lines likes “Life is like a box of chocolates,” being used so intricately that its inclusion in popular nomenclature becomes forever linked to the film. This concept is related to the Reference because the famous line becomes an Anchor for other works to jump off of, at the same time as solidifying the film’s memory through the people’s diction.
Second, the film puts itself in league with a huge 1980s film genre: the war flick, and more specifically, movies about or revolving around the Vietnam War. During the 80s and 90s, dozens of war movies focused on Vietnam were released, and being towards the end of that trend, Forrest Gump fits into the bubble without really being entirely focused around it. Forrest’s time in the war reflects many adult viewers’ experience of the war: it was a huge, impactful part of their lives, and it seemed to fundamentally change the world after returning home. However, like life after the mid 70s, Forrest’s story is not over, and his life continues after the war, no matter how much it may have affected him. This theme acts as an appropriate cap to the period in film, as similar imagery and musical motifs to the genre are presented in the film’s second act.
So in the film, we see versions of both the Internal and External Reference utilized, a move which I believe assists the film stay relevant. Just like Hot Fuzz, Gump seems to hit at an innate human love of connection. It is my believe that we naturally gain satisfaction from drawing connections between things to gain better understanding of both things, and with story, this can be seen in The Reference.
5.) Pulp Fiction (1994)
Only a few short months after the release of Forrest Gump, another cult classic equally as big came to theaters: Pulp Fiction. The movie, as its titled implies, is a unique storytelling experience that’s plot is best explained as “Multiple plots that are all kind of one plot, but not really, but it all makes sense.”
The movie’s cast is made up of a small web of criminals including two enforcers, a sketchy drug dealer, a crime boss, his wife, and an unsuccessful underground boxer. Tarantino’s most famous work embodies the essence of crime drama – like The Godfather – but refuses to adhere to linear storytelling. More so than any other work on this list, Pulp Fiction‘s fame is dependent on its writing and philosophy.
Let’s tackle writing first. On a Grand scale, Pulp Fiction is a cinematic take on the mostly-dead genre known as pulp fiction (who would’ve thought?). For any who have never read samples of pulp fiction, think Conan the Barbarian stories, and popular, modern day myths of similar caliber. Essentially, the point of a pulp fiction story was to use a well known character which didn’t need much development or explanation, and to plot them in an action-based short story which spoke for itself, but may reward readers slightly if they had read other stories of the character.
It becomes immediately clear to us when – spoilers for the movie, seriously go watch it – we begin a story including John Travolta’s character Vincent Vega, who had just been murdered twenty minutes ago. The canon of the story in which Vincent dies is still reality, but due to the movie’s pulp structure, Vincent can still be used in other stories. The pulp fiction structure is not messed with frequently in cinema, where multiple stories might be told in a singular piece of art, so the execution of the tactic in Pulp Fiction stands out as unique.
Additionally, the movie’s script is rife with memorable quotes, making it excellent Reference fodder. You would probably be hardpressed to find someone who had never heard the words ” Say ‘what’ again! I dare you! I double dare you!” or “I don’t need you to tell me how f-ing good my coffee is” in a referential context.
As for Pulp Fiction‘s philosophy, the fact that it exists is undeniable, as the main duo’s penchant for philosophical musings is made clear to us in three separate stories in the film. Vincent and Jules – the pair of self-taught philosophers and henchman – even go so far as to ask the people around them to chime in to conversations whose context was literally left miles away.
So, what sort of arguments is the film trying to make? Primarily, it takes place in the areas of Theology and Ethics. Whenever Jules is about to execute someone, he recites a fake bible quote which is made from a mix of Ezekiel 25:17 and Psalm 23. The quote goes as follows:
The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.
Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children.
And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.
In short, this quote – written by Tarantino himself – translates to a justification of murder by God, under the qualifications that the victim should be an evil man who “attempt to poison and destroy [our] brothers”. It is implied that Jules has used this justification for his actions for many years, and with many “evil men”, but he comes to question his choices when six bullets miss hitting him at near point blank range, seeing it as divine intervention from God.
Later in the film, Jules abstains from killing another man who threatens to shoot him, even when the coast is clear and he has the advantage. Instead, Jules goes about attempting to reform the criminal – known only as “Pumpkin” – as a front to reforming himself. After the event, Jules tells Vincent that he is done with the criminal life, as he believes it is instead God’s will that he devote his life to helping all people, as opposed to justifying the easier path.
As this scene ends the film, I am personally left with the opinion that the movie is abolishing any and all justification of killing. It seems to posit that all lives are equal despite what sins a person might beset upon you. It simultaneously seems to criticize the idea of justification in general, as it places Jules in the position to recognize that his murdering is wrong, and also recognize that he was simply hiding behind justification to continue on the path he was on. As Jules admits to Vincent that it would certainly be easier to throw away his new ideas about faith, the film is saying that this easy method to self-appointed purpose is corrupt.
It is my belief that in the post-modern era, audiences may enjoy this sense of moral ambiguity and tearing down of past structures of faith, though that theme would have to be significantly repeated to merit much truth.
6.) Hot Fuzz (2007)
I have already made a post regarding the last two movies on this list, so I won’t go into as much depth here. However, it is of note that I place Hot Fuzz in the Classics category. This decision is due to its place as the prime exemplar for The Reference. Not only did I create the parameters for the idea based off of Hot Fuzz‘s content, but the film is loved by nearly everyone who watches it to my research.
For a bigger discussion of its brilliance, find my blog about Edgar Wright’s films here.
7.) Baby Driver (2017)
Edgar Wright’s second inclusion in this list is equally as refreshing as its predecessor, for very different reasons. Once again, I have a post linked here which goes in depth regarding Baby Driver, but I believe it is important to include what I see as a future classic in this list. We may look back at the past four or five decades at what has been loved, but how do our thoughts translate to modern works, and what has changed over time?
These questions are especially tough with this broad category of film, but I believe that their fame can be roughly thrown into the following expression:
- Memorable Quotes/Plot-points + Carefully Crafted Script + No Unnecessary Scenes
Of course, this formula is nowhere near perfect, and it also ignores good acting, directing, shot composition, and more, which are absolutely important to how a film is received in the short term, which then enables long-term enjoyment. However, I believe the separate analysis of works can still be useful to this project, as we now have a variety of ideas to look for in other genres.
Speaking of which, Week Three is all about Superheroes, and due to this blog’s belated post, there will be even less of a wait! Truthfully, transferring the site to a different location, plus a difficult genre for only my second week rendered this a difficult week to keep up with. But my expertise should shine next week, so stay tuned for a Wednesday post detailing Feige’s take on the philosophical battle between Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, and a larger post on Friday regarding the MCU’s effect on modern cinema, Alan Moore’s place in the genre, and more!
Until them, happy watching, and remember: every ending is open to discussion.
