Every once and awhile, during a good movie, you see a really original piece of directing or stylish cinematography that just makes you go “wow”, or gives you a big silly grin.
For example, in Resevoir Dogs, when Mr. Orange (Tim Roth) is spinning his yarn about narrowly avoiding a number of police, it goes into a flashback. But for a short moment, he continues to tell the tale verbally, during the flashback, whilst the camera spins around him. Very, very cool.
Another example would be the world’s shortest flight in Snatch.
In The Shawshank Redemption when Brooks Hatlen is paroled, there is a wonderful self contained mini-movie with a beautifully considered voice-over (but you can watch it without sound and get the whole thing) which is terribly affecting and tragic. Even better when Red is paroled we revisit the Brooks Hatlen story as Red’s spirits fall and he begins to lose hope.
Normally, not being a fan of the auteur theory, I would credit all this genius to the scriptwriter. In this case Frank Darabont has made it easy.
For the last few years I’ve been in the critical mood where those kinds of fluorishes tend to annoy me, which is to say that I tend to think of them as guilty pleasures rather than unalloyed pleasures as I used to. Those kinds of fluorishes were a large part of what got me interested in film in the first place.
The Coen Brothers come immediately to mind: the newspaper that makes you jump out of your seat or the solid rays of gunshot in Blood Simple; the tracking shot that bumps up over the fountain on its way up the wall into Mrs. Arizona’s mouth in Raising Arizona.
The moment that made me realize Fight Club wasn’t just about beating people up: When Edward Norton walks through his apartment and is suddenly walking through the Ikea-like catalogue he’s reading.
I’m also a sucker for a good scene transition, which is probably one reason I like the movie Highlander more than I really should.
In Kill Bill, when Vivica Fox takes a potshot at Uma. The gun is hidden in a box of cereal. The brand of cereal? KABOOM (BRILLIANT! in my best Guinness voice).
Hey, great idea for a thread. Here are a few of my faves:
Lauren Bacall’s entrance (‘Anybody got a match?’) at the beginning of To Have and Have Not.
During the famous ‘crop duster’ sequence in North by Northwest, the cuts back and forth between Cary Grant and the truck barrelling towards him as he frantically tries to flag it down.
The opening credits sequence in The Conversation, as we see a couple under surveillance from different angles, while distorted sound from the various mikes used moves in and out of phase.
The moment near the end of The Color of Money, when Paul Newman notices his reflection in a billard ball and is repulsed by what he sees.
The sequence in Magnolia when all the main characters, in different locations, are singing the same Aimee Mann song.
In The Long Goodbye, the way the main theme keeps turning up everywhere that Elliot Gould goes (played by a lounge singer in a bar, on a car radio, as the background Muzak in a supermarket, by a mariachi band, etc.).
I’ll second Fight Club, the Ikea and opening scenes in particular.
Requiem for a Dream’s cleaning scene, which lasted about 30 seconds but took 30 minutes to film. The camera pans at what appears to be a normal pace while Ellen Burstyn cleans at a frantic pace.
Even though many didn’t like the film, the European trip scene in Rules of Attraction is undeniably intense.
I suppose that it depends on the context and level at which they appear. Less experienced filmmakers seem to place flourishes for the sake of having directorial flourishes; self indulgent asides from the body of the film. When flourishes are incorporated in a master’s work, they are pretty seamless and fit well. What would The Lady From Shanghai be without the funhouse? Suspicion without Cary Grant’s radioactive milk?
Many times, the whole damn film is a directorial flourish (Citizen Kane, Requiem For A Dream). This can be good (CK) or mediocre (RFAD).
Agreed. Danny Devito’s fluorishes make me roll my eyes; about half of Welles’s do not. It’s like Peter Jackson and his rare ability to use special effects to support the story, and not vice versa; *Sunrise * is a good example of a nearly unbroken fluorish, from beginning to end, with nothing inappropriate or not in support of the story.
All of Julie Taymor’s Titus, particularly the opening credits with the muscular soldiers performing martial drills, the “Penny Nightmare” scenes, Alan Cummings’ wardrobe changes as he strides through the Roman Senate, and the long tracking shot at the very end.
The special effects shot in The Two Towers where the Uruk have gathered at Orthanc for Wormtongue (and us) to see. The camera pans down and rockets backwards through the massed soldiers at an increasing speed. Many soldiers are carrying pikes with banners on them. The “camera” catches a flag in its wake as it passes by, making it ripple just a tad. Awesome.
I’ll second Fightclub, Requiem, **Boondock Saints ** and Reservoir Dogs. As far as the trick that I found really neat goes I gotta hand it to City of Lost Children whenever the jukebox music comes on and one of those infinitely improbable sequences of events happens, I watched the movie once over a year ago under the influence and I still can not forget it( runs off to make plans to watch the movie again).
Also the narrative technique used in Amelie and Royal Tenebaums (think opening scenes) still makes the “I Love Pretentious Art Tricks” part of my brain giddy with excitement.
The shot in Apocalypse Now! when the VC shoot a single rocket at the boat. The logistics of getting that shot are mind-boggling.
In the same film, Wagner.
Hitchcock’s use of staircases as a setting for major scenes in his films. You can spot it in The 39 Steps, Notorious, Shadow of a Doubt, Strangers on a Train, Psycho, Frenzy, Family Plot and others.
Welles’s best flourish in Citizen Kane is when the camera goes through the skylight.
Scarface (the original): the X = death motif.
Howard Hawks’s use of overlapping dialogue, and Robert Altman’s use of “cocktail party” dialogue, where everyone is speaking at once, but it’s mixed so the most important lines can be easily heard.
the opening to A Clockwork Orange- closeup of Alex, then receding to show his droogs & eventually the panorama of the milkbar, with the music & nadsat slang narration setting us up for a psychedelic, menacing, humorous, alien but familiar thrillride.
I can agree with lots of the scenes mentioned above, but I have a couple I really like.
One of the best is the azalea/hotel scene in The Manchurian Candidate. (People think it’s strange when I tell them there’s a scene that will put you right off azaleas.) That’s closely followed by the scene where the hit man shoots the senator through his quart of milk.
I just watched Easter Parade, and was impressed by the scene with Fred Astaire dancing in slow-motion while the background dancers are going at full speed. Sure, it’s routine today, but still… (I never saw EP before; maybe I was put off by having Judy Garland instead of Ginger.)
Some of the most interesting scene-to-scene transitions I know of are in Lawrence of Arabia. There’s the moment when the camera closes in on Lawrence holding up a match. The instant he blows it out the scene changes to a stark desert landscape. Other subtle directorial touches: practically all of the motion onscreen is from left to right, to enhance the impression of a journey; and during the scene when Lawrence returns from Aquaba, General Allenby and Mr. Dryden are walking in perfect step with one another, while Lawrence walks perfectly out-of-step with both.