Sidney Lumet’s Network is a masterpiece of social satire. The film tells the story of a declining television network that stumbles upon success when one of their anchors goes crazy on the air. The network executives exploit his deepening madness in order to boost ratings.

Like Lumet’s previous film, Dog Day Afternoon, Network draws on real-world events as inspiration. In Dog Day Afternoon, that event is a bank robbery that goes awry. Much of that film’s events are based on the story of John Wojtowicz and Salvatore Naturile. Network also parodies real life – Mary Ann Gifford, the kidnapped heiress involved in a bank robbery with the Ecumenical Liberation Army is reminiscent of Patty Hearst and her involvement with the Symbionese Liberation Army (Hearst is even mentioned in the film). The on-air death of Howard Beale at the end of the film may have been inspired by the then-recent death of Christine Chubbuck, who committed suicide during a live television broadcast (Christine Chubbuck, 2012).

Part of the focus of Dog Day Afternoon is the ensuing media circus that results from the bank robbery. Network, on the other hand, is one prolonged media circus. It is even more critical of media and its effect on society. Part of Network’s success is owed to the growing disillusion felt by the public towards the media. The New Hollywood had already depicted mistrust towards the military (M*A*S*H), the law (Chinatown and In the Heat of the Night) and the American Dream (Easy Rider and Midnight Cowboy). By the middle of the 1970s, the public had become as cynical about the media as it was about the government (Cook, 2000, p. 201).

The French New Wave is a film movement that began in the late 1950s when a number of young French film critics put down their pens and picked up their cameras. Their films were vastly different from contemporary films, and their impact on cinema has been a lasting one. Some of the characteristics of the movement include spontaneity, the director as the “author” of the film, experimentation with editing and camera styles, attempts to dissolve the line between documentary and fiction, and an adoration of cinema and its history. Two of the quintessential auteurs of the movement are François Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard. Their films Jules et Jim and Pierrot le Fou exhibit many of the above traits of the New Wave.

The King of Marvin Gardens is a meditation on the emptiness of life and the desire for connection and fulfillment. The filmmakers communicate this through the idiosyncratic actions of the characters and the production and set design.

One of the most noticeable aspects of the film is its giant, spacious sets and locations. The empty beach, the deserted boardwalk, the vacant auditorium and the lobby of the Essex Carlton are all massive, dwarfing the characters in them. The small graphic weight the characters hold does not suggest their insignificance. Rather, the emptiness of the hollow surroundings seems to be suffocating them.

The sets and locations are filled with objects taunting the characters. Billboards leer over the boardwalk, ornate houses rise just off the beach, and marble columns line the lobby of the Essex Carlton. The elegance of the interior of the Essex Carlton or the consumerism of the Coppertone billboards mocks the character’s situations. Sally tries to escape some of this consumerism by burning her makeup collection; but in reality it has no effect on her happiness.

One of the most depressing scenes in the entire film is the faux Miss America pageant. The theatricality of a beauty pageant with only one contestant and no audience in a vast, abandoned space is sad enough. But the low-key lighting and premature ending (they can’t even get the gaffer to stick around) make the situation unbearable. The characters go from sorry to pitiful.

Another scene that demonstrates the emptiness of life and lack of fulfillment is the scene after Sally murders Jason. Sally immediately walks into the bathroom and tries to turn off the shower. The act is devoid of meaning; Sally is just trying to do something. Similar to Joe from Midnight Cowboy and Bobby from Five Easy Pieces, Sally is doomed to wandering aimlessly.

Observation

I found this film rather hard to analyze. Part of the reason is because I see Ellen Burstyn’s character Sally as the true emotional center of the film, being dragged around aimlessly by the other characters. Her only dream is that of affection, but the other characters continually put their own desires ahead of hers. She almost has no will of her own. I was also left slightly confused by the opening and closing monologues to the film. If the opening one was a fabrication by David, then isn’t it possible that the events of the film are the content of his radio show that ends the film? If nothing else, it would explain the presence of some of the more surreal scenes.

Italy’s rich cinematic tradition can be traced to Italian filmmakers’ use of both interior and exterior methods of characterization and theme. The filmmakers do not simply rely on dialogue or actions to tell their audience a character’s motivation or how he feels. Rather they reinforce these messages with the use of techniques involving cinematic space. Two of the most famous Italian films, (and both remarkable for their use of cinematic space) are Bernardo Bertolucci’s Il Conformista and Federico Fellini’s 8 ½.

Joe is very much a film defined by the era in which it was made. The characters, music, plot and themes are all issues concerning the counterculture movement of the late 1960s. The film centers on the generation gap between the hippie culture and their parents, but manages to be sympathetic to both sides. In the film Bill Compton accidentally kills the drug dealer boyfriend of his daughter, and he teams up with Joe Curran to search New York to find his runaway daughter.

The pair meets at the American Bar & Grill, where Bill is drawn to Joe because of the anti-hippie tirade he is giving. This scene illustrates the types of beliefs the older generation in the 1960s held. While it is easy to dismiss Joe and Bill as closed-minded racists, this type of thinking was actually fairly common during the time period, and the film does not try to paint them as bad guys, despite their actions.

After a twenty-year absence from filmmaking, Terrence Malick returned in 1998 with The Thin Red Line. Released the same year as the hugely popular Saving Private Ryan, Malick’s film is a non-linear war epic that is more philosophy than big budget action movie. Malick subverts the genre conventions and expectations in order to create a film that deals more with abstract ideas and emotions.

The soundtrack (50s pop and rock & roll records), the props (vintage cars) and the locations (the city streets, Mel’s Diner) are all incredibly important elements of the mise en scène of American Graffiti. The attention given to these details gives the film part of its charm, and should come as no surprise from George Lucas, the filmmaker behind the “worldizing” of the Star Wars franchise.

Director/co-writer George Lucas and producer Francis Ford Coppola were both film students, and their filmic knowledge (shared by the French New Wave) is demonstrated with the inclusion of “Rock Around the Clock” over the opening credits. The song was famously used in the film Blackboard Jungle to make the film appeal to a younger teenage audience, so using it in a film in which the soundtrack itself is so important is fitting. The use of popular songs in place of a traditional film score recalls Easy Rider and The Graduate.

Compared to the other films we’ve watched in class, American Graffiti is relatively tame and optimistic. The lightly humorous tone and upbeat songs give the film a positive feel. In a period in which many of the films being made were the opposite, American Graffiti‘s nostalgia seems to be a form of escapism from the contemporary political climate. That being said, the epilogue, in which the fates of the four male leads are revealed, is rather sobering. John ends up dead, Terry is presumed dead, Steve winds up with a monotonous and boring job, and Curt leaves the country. This ending expresses how the late 60s and early 70s had failed to deliver on the promises of that generation’s teenage years.

Observation

I really enjoy this film, from its soundtrack to its humor to its nature as an ensemble piece. One of my favorite aspects of the film is the role that Wolfman Jack plays. Wolfman is this almost mythical figure that unites the town with his mischief and his control of the music. His reputation (he broadcasts from an airplane or from Mexico; his voice sounds inhuman) elevates him from a radio jockey to a symbol of the youthful rebellion. At the end, when Wolfman hides his identity from Curt, it is because no man could live up to the reputation that Wolfman had built. But the ironic twist is that Wolfman was a real life DJ and his identity is revealed in the film, killing some of his real life aura. Overall, I think the film is incredibly successful because it remains contemporary and relatable to me (born in 1990) even though it is a love letter to the early 1960s.

From the opening montage, Dog Day Afternoon emphasizes a dichotomy among the people of Brooklyn. The opening shots contrast images of wealth and people relaxing with images of the hard working lower class. These contrasts expose the gap between the haves and the have-nots. Sonny is a member of the have-nots, a lower class man with a wife and two kids and a boyfriend on the side.

Sonny’s lifestyle and economic troubles lead him to rob a bank in order to pay for his boyfriend’s sex change operation. In a scene about midway through the film, Sonny explains his predicament: if you want a job you have to belong to a union, and non-union jobs don’t pay well. With economic situations like this, it’s hard to provide for oneself and one’s family.

Later in the film, Sonny’s mother tells him that he was such a beautiful baby (reminiscent of the homeless man in The Conversation?). The implication is that the world has turned Sonny into a criminal. The optimism of the American dream is no more.

The film also presages a new American dream – that of the notion of celebrity, or 15 minutes of fame. Sonny is greeted with cheers each time he exits the bank. He even begins to embrace the fame in the scenes where he screams “Attica!” at the surrounding police or plays Robin Hood and throws money to the crowds. Even the pizza delivery boy finds brief fame as he opens the door for Sonny. With the cameras trained on him, he jumps in the air and screams, “I’m a fucking star!” 

Observation

What struck me most about the film since the last time I saw it was how funny it is. Wikipedia describes it as a “crime drama” but I think a more accurate description would be “black comedy.” The humor contributes to the realism, whether it’s Sonny fumbling with the box as he pulls his gun from it or when Sylvia needs to use the bathroom. I also find Pacino’s performance incredible; he manages to balance the humorous with the dramatic while maintaining a firm grasp of his character. Dede Allen’s editing also creates unease in scenes like when Sal points his gun at the girls or when the cops try to come in the back of the bank. Allen’s cuts are so quick that perceiving each shot individually is difficult; leaving the viewer confused and on edge, just like the characters.

parts of this were written with fellow Towson University student Elena Fialkoff

Prior to the New Hollywood, there was very little feminism in film and a great deal of masculinity. Women were subservient to men and needed to be protected or saved from danger. Even the female protagonists of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, who are very strong and independent, spend the entire film searching for men who can financially support them. And despite starring the beautiful and sexy Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell, the film avoids the topic of sex itself. This is typical of the films of Classical Hollywood.

The nearly ubiquitous image of women during this period is that of the doting housewife. She wears a pearl necklace and an apron; she stays at home and cooks, and she is obedient to her husband. But this conservative image clashes with the reality of women’s sexuality in the 1950s. The arrival of Elvis and the Beatles caused teenage girls everywhere to scream and obsess over the young men. These girls were not only captivated by the music but also by the looks of the Beatles and the dancing of Elvis (Inglis 60). Their desire was a sexual one, enlightening men to the notion that women have sexual wants just like men. 

While this knowledge may not have transferred into film right away, the New Hollywood was more liberal and revisionist, and its films delved deeper into themes regarding sex and sexuality. Two films from this era, Bob Fosse’s Cabaret (1972) and Hal Ashby’s Shampoo (1975), explore blurring gender roles and images of masculinity and femininity that mirror the sexual revolution of the late 1960s and 1970s.

Mike Nichols’ 1971 film Carnal Knowledge follows two lifelong friends, Jonathan and Sandy, from their college years to middle age and details their sex lives. Jonathan is aggressive and highly sexual, Sandy is passive and more sensitive. The first third of the film shows their relationship with Susan, who is dating Sandy and sleeping with Jonathan. The two men represent the paradoxical portrayal of what Hollywood says women are attracted to (the loud, violent and masculine action heroes and the quiet, passionate men of romantic comedies).

Nichols relies heavily on the medium close up in the film, and he uses it to turn dialogues into soliloquies. By framing the characters this way, and having them look directly into the camera, Nichols gives the scenes an interview or confessional feel. This is fitting, because the content of what they are talking about is always highly personal, like when Jonathan speaks about his problems achieving an erection.

While this technique provides a direct link of communication between the characters and audience, Nichols also subverts the technique to show a lack of communication among the characters within the story. On at least two occasions (the tennis scene with Cindy, and the camping scene with Jonathan) Nichols frames a character that has no dialogue. The dialogue occurs off-screen, and continually refers to the character onscreen but they do not respond or acknowledge it. These scenes show the characters’ inability or unwillingness to connect with each other.

Observation

I really liked how the film confronted how differently men and women see things. Jonathan and Bobbie’s living arrangement reveals what both of them want in a romantic partner. Bobbie wants to be loved, and in order to be loved is willing to be the provider. Jonathan isn’t interested in love; he just wants to be mothered. Like George in Shampoo, Jonathan comes to represent the ways in which men abuse women. When Jonathan runs out of beer, he says, “It’s my fault. I knew I should have reminded you [to pick up beer] when I called.” Jonathan’s passive-aggressive blame on Bobbie represents the respective social positions of men and women.