Counterpoint on Voiceover: Could Shawshank have been even better?

I come to this debate not to concede but to clarify statements that were made about me in Alex’s last post. Do I hate voiceover? Yes. Do I think that it is inherently sloppy and lazy screenwriting? Absolutely.

Alex states that the importance of voiceover is that it gives perspective. I disagree. The power of cinema (as opposed to live theater) is that the perspective we get comes directly from the characters. We get to see through their eyes. We get to feel what they feel. We get to take part in the action in a very emotional way. When a character (or narrator) breaks the “fourth wall” by speaking directly to the audience, that power is lost. It keeps the audience on the “outside” of the movie. And we lose that visceral connection to the character.

When a character tells us what (s)he is feeling, I stop experiencing the events of the film along the character and the movie becomes a much more objective than subjective experience for me. Great artists don’t attach a paragraph of explanation for their creations. Neither do great songwriters explain their songs in the CD liner notes. The joy for the audience is seeing choices played out of the screen and wondering “why did (s)he do that?” Decalogue: Six is a great example of that. I did not fully grasp the actions of either main character in the story, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked that. The last thing I would want is for one of them to tell me what (s)he was thinking.

Alex and I agree that voiceover for expositional purposes is worse than receiving socks for Christmas. It is, as he says, the essence of “Tell, don’t Show” – which is death to a movie. Imagine, if you will, that the expositional paragraph that begins each of the Star Wars films was not written to be read by the audience, but performed by one of the key characters (or even a narrator) while the audience takes a computer-generated tour of the galaxy.

Are you done shuddering at that possibility? Okay, let’s continue.

Voiceover is not the best way to bring us into a character’s mind. As F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in his notes regarding the unfinished end of The Last Tycoon, “Action is Character.” Plot is the foundation to film, not dialogue or exposition. And action (driven by choice) is the foundation to character. As one of the reviewers (I think it was Adam) on the Filmspotting podcast said recently, “you don’t play adjectives, you play adverbs.” You don’t tell us that you’re sad, happy, introspective, or awestruck, you speak, walk, and make decisions based on the internal feelings. Telling the audience about the feelings or “lessons learn” [ugh] is a unsatisfying shortcut to that end.

Imagine at the beginning of Rushmore that Max Fischer tells us via voiceover how much he loves Rushmore and how he would stay there forever if he could, and then gives us access to his inner-most thoughts about Miss Cross. Even with Wes Anderson’s clever dialogue, it wouldn’t work near as well as how Anderson tells us about Max. He shows us what Max is like with the quick cuts of the 25 or so extra-curricular activities Max is involved with (along with his brilliant opening scene with Brian Cox), and shows us all we need to know about how he thinks of Miss Cross by saving Latin. Max’s creed (“I think you just gotta find something you love to do, and then do it for the rest of your life. For me it’s going to Rushmore.”) is given in the midst of dialogue. Could you imagine that line opening the movie given by voiceover?

Now, to the examples that Alex gave. I admit I don’t remember the voiceover in most of them. That could be due to: (1) bad short-term memory, or (2) that the voiceovers were utterly forgettable. Whatever the case, there are two films that use voiceover (in very different ways) that I must address, because I love both films (as in “top 20 films of all time” love).

The first is The Shawshank Redemption. This film may have been the beginning of my path down film snobbery (my “gateway drug” if you will). And yet, I have to concede that it’s not perfect. The acting is perfect. The dialogue is perfect. The direction is top notch (the iconic shot of Tim Robbins emerging from the sewer pipe being cleansed by the rain gives me goose bumps just thinking about it). And yet, I have to admit that I still don’t like the voiceover. It keeps me at arms length from the picture; it keeps the film just a little bit on the “cold” side for me. There are some terrific lines delivered by Morgan Freeman via voiceover (“I like to think that the last thing that went through the warden’s head, other than that bullet. . .”), but couldn’t those lines have been given just as well (or even better) in dialogue to another character?

The second is Adaption. Here is where I need to clarify what I mean by voiceover, because I will admit, in this films it just works. The film wouldn’t be near the same without it. But here’s why it works in this film as opposed to many of the others. (1) The film is a spoof of the movie “rules.” The Kaufmann brothers characterize the tension in screen writing between following formulas (the Robert McKee seminar) and true creative thinking. So, the irony is (as Alex noted) that he’s using voiceover in a creative way, not according to the formula. (2) Charlie Kaufmann is not talking to the audience with his voiceover – he’s talking to himself. And that’s an important distinction in the film. Because Kaufmann is a severe introvert, who else does he have to talk to? The focus of the film is completely internal, and therefore the internal dialogue given through voiceover works perfectly.

So, I come to the end of this piece with a clarification of what I mean when I say “voiceover.” When it is used to read a letter for the audience’s sake or for telepathic communication (like Galadriel to Frodo in FOTR), that’s fine. But what harms a film is when voiceover is used to speak directly to the audience. That is what keeps the audience from truly entering “into” the picture, and therefore negates the real visceral power of film.

Voicing about Voiceovers

Alright, y’all, it’s been a while. For that I apologize. However, I come to you now, in this great hour of need, to appeal to you to help Doug and I settle, insofar as that is even possible, a debate question.

As we settled yesterday to watch Decalogue VI,[1] the question came up about voiceover. It was inspired by a line from the movie Adaptation, where the brilliant Brian Cox portrays screenplay guru Robert McKee.[2] While speaking at his famous story seminar, ripping apart many different film writer faux pas, he quips in a harsh whisper, “And God help you if you use voiceover!” The nature of the disagreement came with my personal disagreement with him. I don’t think it’s true that voiceover is a bad thing. Doug, however (in his steely way), sided with the Adaptation McKee[3] that voiceover is cheap and never a good idea.[4]

I understood a lot of his reasons. It’s overdone, and often when it is done, it is done badly. I concede that completely. Especially when it’s expositional. Relying on voiceover to move the plot (as opposed to the Story itself – and there is a difference) can be a deadly mistake. You use dialogue, actions, scenes of tension; it’s the show-don’t-tell philosophy all over again. In that regard, voiceover can be completely destructive.

However, to say because of that, it is across-the-board weak – well, I can’t agree with that at all. I mean, some movies need voiceover, not for plot, but for story, because it is their perspective that is one of the key forces of the story. In this regard, it is like dialogue; dialogue that is expositional is cheap and boring, and often annoying, because it lacks perspective and interaction. Voiceover that is expositional is the same. But voiceover itself is like dialogue, in its own special way, because the perspective of the narrator is oftentimes the over-arching perspective of the story, and the interaction is of the narrator with the audience itself. Like the first person narrative in books, the narrator is telling us a story from his/her point of view. And when that works, that’s golden.

I think of it like flashbacks, which are like voiceovers in that they are incredibly hard to do well and they provide perspective. The crown jewel example of this would be Rashomon. The movie is almost completely perspectival – even the flashbacks told in the trial are set within the flashbacks of the three characters dialoguing in the film, and the point of the story is how each carries with it the character’s own perspective. Other films that do flashbacks in interesting and powerful ways could include Laura, Citizen Kane, Unbreakable, Enter the Dragon, Darjeeling Limited, The Bourne Ultimatum, and Big Fish. For every one of those films, there are of course one hundred or even a thousand that do flashbacks really badly, and the same could be said for voiceover, but that does not make the devices themselves bad; it makes them tricky, difficult, and risky. But as in many things, those that are tricky, difficult, and risky are often the stuff of the greatest and most powerful achievements, with the greatest payoff. Hell, in Casablanca, the flashbacks are probably the weakest part of the film, but I don’t know if it could’ve worked without it.

And I don’t know if utter gems like What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?, The Shawshank Redemption, Legends of the Fall, V for Vendetta, Juno, or countless others would work without the voiceover. The voiceovers in these stories make the film, because of the perspectives they provide. I can’t imagine trying to adapt a book to film like The Catcher in the Rye without using voiceover, because it’s not just the story, it’s Holden Caulfield’s (somewhat skewed) perspective of the story that is important. The same is true for these other movies. And rather than get rid of these devices, we need to think of new and fresh ways to use them to empower us to continue to make masterpieces.

Of course, it is not secret that the line that sparked this entire debate is from a movie that heavily relies on voiceover. However, I would hold that Adaptation works because of the voiceover, not in spite of it. It is the singular perspective of Charlie Kaufman that makes something quite “uninteresting” (the struggle of the movie itself) quite interesting indeed.

So let us know what you think, and provide examples from either side of the debate.

Voiceover – 5/5

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[1] Which, incidentally, was incredibly brilliant. Review forthcoming.

[2] Cox was McKee’s own personal choice for the role, I’m told.

[3] It might be something he really thinks, but as I have never been to his seminar or read his book, I don’t know; the movie is all I have to go on.

[4] Yes, he did say never, I don’t care if he denies it =).

Random Movie Question: Who's Eeeevvviiiiiillllllll?

For this week's RMQ, we turn our attention to the world of film villainry. The characters we love to hate, whose predestined and glorious deaths cause us joy unspeakable (yes, vengeance is wrong -- but it can still be funny).

And so, here's the question asked solely to encourage participation on the blog: Who is your favorite underrated film villain?


This is an easy one for me. Without a doubt, it's Edward the Longshanks from Braveheart. Yes, I know that Braveheart may not be found on any "underrated" movie lists, but here's why I can claim Edward as underrated -- because none of you would have thought of him. So there.


Besides, Eddie is downright eeevvviilllll. "The problem with Scotland is that it's full of Scots." "If we can't get them out, we'll breed them out."

And this gem of dialogue:
Longshanks: Archers.
English Commander: I beg pardon sire. Won't we hit our own troops ?
Longshanks: Yes... but we'll hit theirs as well. We have reserves. Attack .

And what a comeuppances good ole’ Eddie gets from Sophie Marceau’s Princess Isabella: “Death comes to us all. But before it comes to you, know this: your blood dies with you. A child who is not of your line grows in my belly. Your son will not sit long on the throne. I swear it.” Ouch.

Four Fantastic Documentaries I've Seen This Summer

Gotta love documentaries. Well, then again, I guess you don’t gotta, but if you don’t, then there is probably something wrong with you. But that is neither here nor there, because if you don’t love documentaries, then you’re probably not reading this. And if you do like documentaries, then you’re probably getting irritated that I have not gone ahead and started the frickin’ post already. *sighs* Alright, on with the show.

Koyaanisqatsi

Well, it’s a classic. The title is a Native American word from the Hopi language meaning "Life out of balance," and the film suggests that that is just what modern living is. When I first began my quest of film snobbery, I watched this film. My friend and fellow contributor said this was like taking the elevator while everyone else was taking the stairs. I mean, as soon as you see the film, you’re instantly cultured. It contains no “script” whatsoever, only a series of videos and pictures which contrast nature to our current lifestyle in the post-Industrial West. It is brilliant and beautiful, and many of the shots are breath-taking. My favorite shot was when they transposed the rows of hotdogs going down an assembly line with a multitude of people going through rows of escalators. It was really wonderful – you just have to see it to appreciate what I’m saying. So for that reason and many others, go watch the film and become disillusioned with our consumerist/industrialists lifestyles which are certainly contrary to Creation. 5/5

For the Bible Tells Me So

A specifically Christian documentary which deals with the issue of GLBT[1] inclusion in the Church. It follows several Christian families as they deal with this issue personally, some who become pro-inclusion and others that remain “conservative.” For the most part, although the documentary is certainly biased towards inclusion, it is fair, and does not misrepresent dissenting views. This is a serious issue in the Church, and I think if anyone wishes to have an opinion on it, they need to openly and honestly deal with the objections and arguments - from several areas – that this documentary raises. 4.3/5

Deliver Us from Evil

This truly upsetting documentary has for its subject Oliver O’Grady, the infamous priest who raped and molested over one hundred children in California while filling the role of priest in several Catholic Churches. It deals very brutally with the horror of O’Grady’s crime, but has in the background a more sinister culprit that worked very hard for the sake of politics and saving face to hide the crimes: the Holy Roman Catholic Church. I love the Church, and hold myself as part of her fold, and that includes without shame my Catholic brothers, from Pope to Priest to “lay” person. However, I was as indignant and sorrowful and ashamed as anyone (especially as a Christian) when this documentary exposed the horrible actions of this Diocese and this priest, then showed the systemic cycle of evil that was happening all over the churches. There are several awful, heart-wrenching scenes that will bring tears to the eyes. 4.9/5

The End of Suburbia

This film tackles the ever-rising issue of the coming energy crisis, centered around our own oil-based economy. It argues cogently that oil depletion is very real, and that the decline of oil production will force the American culture with its mega-consumerism and silly spending like there is no tomorrow to be altered drastically. As our economic changes out of pure necessity (probably bringing with it some dark times), communities (so the film prophesizes) will become localized, centralized (“walkable”), and more self-sufficient. As our oil-based economy all but collapses, prices of all things will skyrocket because of our reliance upon trucks and highways. The local community will become the new economy, and people will become local producers. This is all, of course, a very important issue. However, I came away from the film with a great deal of hope. I think in many ways these predictions sound like a greater humanity, and perhaps the crisis could bring a great deal of good with it. Time will only tell. But regardless, it was a really good film. 4/5

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[1] That’s “Gay, Lesbian, Bi-sexual, and Transgendered” for those less informed ;).

Decalogue Five: Thou Shall Not Kill

"The law should not imitate nature, the law should improve nature.

People invented the law to govern their relationships.

The law determined who we are and how we live. We either observe it, or we break it.

People are free. Their freedom is limited only by the freedom of others.

Punishment means revenge.

In particular when it aims to harm, but it does not prevent crime.

For whom does the law avenge?

In the name of the innocent? Do the innocent make the rules?"

So, I'm writing this review, but I don't want to. I told Alex I would, then I gave it back to him, took it back, gave it back, and finally somewhere along the way it was generally understood that I was writing this review. Here's why I don't want to: (1) it's about the death penalty, so it's a messy subject; (2) it's the most non-linear of the episodes thus far, which might go to the issue that this is a truly messy issue with no easy answers -- this was not an easy episode to watch; (3) with those 2 issues being said, this episode was my favorite so far by far. It's hard to review what you love (see my Wall-E review for confirmation of that).

I am against the death penalty. It's been quite a hard road to come to this position, but I've come to it because the death penalty essentially de-humanizes the criminal. It makes them a non-person, having forfeited all rights. I'm reminded of the ancient practice where the condemned, just before their execution, would have their name erased from the civic registry. It's like they never existed. I just can't see the redemptive aspect there. I know many will argue that being on death row increases the possibility that the criminal will seek redemption with the victim's family and with Christ, but that's simply not justification for denying someone their humanity.

The Krysztof's (Kieślowski and Piesiewicz) are in full agreement here. This is not a balanced look at the death penalty. This is not Dead Man Walking. The state machinery of death is given the same level of scrutiny and condemnation as the punk kid who kills the cabbie. The Watcher even looks on both with indignation (holding a "measuring rod" in one scene -- is this the image of the Law as the "Standard" to measure up to?)

I love that they didn't make the criminal "good at heart," like some contemporary version of Jean Valjean. He's not. He's a punk. He watches in amusement as some fellow hooligans run down and beat up some poor victim. He tosses rocks off of overpasses and watches the ensuing automobile accidents. And, in one bizarre (and downright disgusting) moment, he tosses a young man into a urinal because he came whistling into the restroom. He's one brief step from a sociopath. He doesn't have a reason to kill the cabbie, he does because he can.

He's not good. But he's human. And the state can't deny that. The way they kill is in diametric oppostion to how the kid kills, but that doesn't make it any more justifiable. The kid's strangling of the cabbie takes a long time, and after a number of attempts, and various instruments used, he finally finishes the job. The state's method is quick and clean -- a simple jerk of the neck in a small antiseptic room. They've done this enough to have the procedure down pat. But I'm left wondering at the end of the film if the motivation for the state's killing isn't too far different from the kid. The state kills because it can.

The hero of the film is the young idealistic lawyer. The film opens with his monologue quoted above. He's been asked the question before, and the answer seemed easier then (he doesn't, as I recall, mention if his answer hasn't changed -- as mine would have over the years). He's the hero of the film because he never loses the young man's humanity. What the state says is "justice," he rightly calls "revenge."

When we look at something like capital punishment from a distance, the answers seem clear, the problems look inconsequential. But ethics is not done in a vacuum. We deal with the lives of people, messed-up people who despite the evil that works in them and through them never quite forgo everything that makes them human. Theory is easy; people are hard. One of the key image/metaphors used throughout these series of films is glass. Kieślowski and his DP's (he used a variety of them) are masters of using refractions and reflections. We often look and judge the characters of these films through glass (a glass "darkly"?). Maybe that's the point -- we use our moralism as a way to maintain distance and separation from these people's actual lives. We base our judgment of people based purely on image rather than truth. The truth is: whatever the evil in them, they never cease being what God created.

After Alex and I finished the film, we went back to hear (and copy down) the monologue that begins the film. And after the line, "Do the innocent make the rules," Alex said something like, "Sounds like 'he who is without sin cast the first stone.'" Indeed it does.

The Clint Howard Honorary "That Guy" of the Month Award Goes To. . .

David Paymer.

Who? [That's what you're supposed to say with one of these -- it's what makes him a "That Guy"].

Here's where you probably know him: the V.U.P. in Ocean's 13. He's the one reviewing Al Pacino's hotel for the coveted Five Diamond Award, and who gets the bedbug treatment and the "Susan B. Anthony" (the huge slot machine jackpot gift) in the end.

[Ah! Now I know where I've seen him before -- that what you're supposed to say now.]

Saw him in David Mamet's Redbelt last night (good flick, interesting character story, little bit of a forced and bit-too-brief denouement -- give it a solid 4 out of 5). Paymer's becoming one of the Mamet Players, with roles also in Spartan and State and Main.

Here's also where you may have seen him: City Slickers, Quiz Show, Get Shorty (played the guy who swindled the airline company insurance when he didn't get on the plane that crashed), The American President, Amistad, and Payback (the one where Mel Gibson plays an anti-hero). So the guy works (there's 132 acting roles listed in his IMDb page). He even received a best supporting actor Oscar nomination for playing Billy Crystal's brother in Mr. Saturday Night (which almost disqualifies him for the "Clinty"). However, he did have a role in Howard the Duck, which I think evens everything out.

However, the true reason to award this month's Clinty to David Paymer is because he must be the only actor in the world to lose an acting gig to Howie Mandel (for "St. Elsewhere"). That must of stung. Here's hoping this month's Clinty will heal those deep and lasting wounds.