"The Difference Between Theatre and Film" or "I Digress far, far too often..."

.... What difference?

Being the argumentative type that I am, I've engaged in many a conversation about the nature of Theatre and what it should or shouldn't be. While most of these discussion are quite fruitful and benign, (Artaud vs Brecht notwithstanding) there is one topic I've heard time and again that boils my blood like an angry walrus.

The subject rears it's belligerent posterior when a theatre maker is trying to justify some sort of artistic decision or criticize the decisions of another. "What really needs to happen..." they begin, their chins raised high as pious templar of the theatrical religion, "Is that theatre needs to find ways to distinguish itself from film!" At which point I get the primordial urge to throw something heavy or bite somebody.

These theatre eugenicists wish to compete with film the same way Allstate competes with Geico. "Sure, Geico is cheaper, but dollar-for-dollar (says Dennis Dexter Haysbert), nobody protects you like Allstate." Compare that to "Sure, Film has better realism since they have close ups (because close-ups are somehow realistic...) but  the theatre can have characters talking to the audience and building community!"

Of course, anyone who's seen a Film Noir knows that actors onscreen can talk plenty well to an audience, and I'd wager "Star Wars" has created a community larger than the entire American theatre community combined,but I digress...

The best part about any artistic medium is it's ability to innovate, and that includes the power to borrow, learn from, and use the toolkit of any other artistic medium. We would have nothing to gain from becoming the Académie Française, forced to preserve the purity of "Theatre" with a capital "T"

Although the costumes would be rather fabulous...

It's true that theatre and film are similar in two fundamental ways. First, they are both story-telling mediums and second, they both employ the concept of realism; realism being that a person onscreen or onstage generally represents a multifaceted person. Unlike dance, where humans are meant primarily as artistic instruments, in theatre and film we expect the characters to have thoughts, feelings, opinions, and so forth. Of course there are exceptions to both rules in both mediums, but would it really be an art form if it's practitioners didn't incessantly try to break the conventions?

As someone who studies narrative structure, the first difference between theatre and film that stood out to me was the difference in plot. Plays begin with a static world, introduce an element that disrupts the status quo of that world (usually a character but not always), and end with a resolution which creates a new stasis, for better or for worse. Movie plots tend revolve around single character (or pair of characters in the case of a buddy movie) going through a Joseph-Cambellian Hero's Journey, complete with a call to action, helpers, descent into the underworld, and so on. (This is also the plot structure of the oral storytelling tradition, but that's another topic for another day)

This plot distinction has to do with the fact that in film the point of view is very limited, so the camera needs to follow something (like a main character) in order to maintain it's logic. As for a play, although the set may change, the theatre space is entirely consistent, and it's up to the characters to find a way to inhabit, change or "get along", as director Anne Bogart would say, in the world of that space. (I think the changing nature of a distinct area is why they refer to battle zones as "Theatres of War" but once again, I digress...)

So perhaps there's the distinction we've all been searching for. Thankfully for a writer like me, all I need to worry about is whether I'm writing italicized stage directions or INT. HYDROELECTRIC DAM - NIGHT.  I don't think that Martin Mcdonagh should be rebuked for incorporating massive amounts of gunplay, and other artistic elements into his plays first thought up by filmmakers, nor do I think Quentin Tarantino should be held in contempt for having long, drawn-out 'theatrical' conversations in his movies. 

Art is not auto insurance. Perhaps in some ways it is like auto insurance in that they both involve Dennis Dexter Haysbert but, as I mentioned before, theatre and film both strive to do the same thing: Tell stories. Since their ultimate aims are tantamount, fretting over distinction can only serve to detract from the overall goal of both mediums. 

A uniting force.

Perhaps what theatre makers should really discuss is the meaning or purpose behind storytelling in the first place. This could lead to real deep and contemplative inconsequential gibberish, but I am quite done discussing art like a homemaker discusses laundry detergents. 

Not that there's anything wrong with homemaking and/or laundry detergents... Except Arm and Hammer. That stuff itches, man...

Chick-fil-a: Right on 'Target'

"The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about"

-Oscar Wilde 

Yes Virginia, Chick-fil-a supports the biblical definition of marriage, and if you're just tuning in, that means one man, one woman (a.k.a none of the 'gay stuff'). While I wholeheartedly disagree with their position, I didn't think it was a humongous deal... at first. But now it seems they've made quite the splash. Sunday, hundreds upon thousands of incensed citizens are preparing to enter Chick-fil-a to either:

A) protest gay marriage and buy the company's chicken,
or
B) kiss their gay lovers while trying very hard not to buy the company's chicken.

But eventually, everybody gets hungry.

A recent study reveals a sharp downturn in Chick-fil-a 'consumer perception' this past week, (I imagine because a good deal of people went from having "no opinion" to a "negative opinion") however their earnings since the announcement have been 'unprecedented' according to Businessweek. Their net value has soared, and in terms of the fast food industry, it's been been one of the largest revenue jumps in history.

It shouldn't be difficult to figure out why. The customer demographic of Chick-fil-a is conservative Christian. Pulling a stunt like this will energize their potential customers and alienate only those who are less than likely to frequent their business in the first place. Simple enough right? I mean, did any gay rights activists really feel the pain of having to choose between that curvaceous red chicken and their convictions? I didn't think so.

It was no secret this Atlanta-based company was against gay marriage. They have contributed over a million dollars to anti-gay rights organizations over the years. Making their stance official has only been a free and immensely successful publicity campaign. And who is making sure they keep the attention that's making them all this money? Why the very gay-rights spokespeople they've off put. The best way to oppose Chick-fil-a is simply by not giving them free publicity by doing things like, you know, writing blog posts about them... (sigh)

It's time to stop playing into Chick-fil-a's talons by giving them the attention they want. Unless they fire a gay employee or refuse service to a gay customer, I think our attention needs to be placed on keeping those homophobes in the spotlight who don't actually want to be there. The first name that comes to mind is Target. Recently, the company came out with this ad depicting an idyllic gay wedding:

And while it looks as progressive as a wind-farm municipal bond, Target has received flagrant criticism regarding their anti-gay stances in the past. (for example, not selling the albums of gay artists and donating hundreds of thousands to anti-gay legislators) Now that gay marriage has become a hundred-million-dollar industry, Target has decided to change its tune. At least Chick-fil-a is honest about their stance so consumers can make informed decisions. Target is merely grabbing for gay dollars, and trying to pull the wool over the eyes of the gay consumer with empty words and hollow gestures.

Well, I suppose not that hollow. Target recently announced that they will donate $150,000 to a pro LGBT organisation, but their donation history makes me think this contribution is a simple marketing maneuver. Being the large corporation-y type that they are, Target clearly wants deregulation conservatives in power. The problem is they don't want to pay the social cost of their interests.

It's time we put Target in the spotlight for its hypocrisy and not give free social-issue publicity to places that want it. Let's stop highlighting a move Chick-fil-a planned for months, and punish Target for insulting their gay consumer's intelligence.

And let's be real, shall we? One shouldn't be eating all that fatty fried junk in the first place.

The Dark Knight Rouses (my insignificant ire)

     Although Chris Nolan's "Batman Begins" was a dark, gritty albeit conventional (please note, I don't use the word pejoratively) superhero movie, "The Dark Knight" tapped into something primal. No film, play, or any other work of fiction has, in my opinion, captured the dynamism between two larger than life personalities like Nolan has in his masterpiece.  It was the duel of oppositional philosophies, combined with a divine performance by the late Heath Ledger, that made "The Dark Knight" truly an event. 

     My inner Dungeons and Dragons nerd would tell you that it was the ultimate battle between law and chaos. The Joker, a force of pure entropy, blazed through Gotham city like a dark storm, trying his damnedest to prove that mankind is savage and animal; that we are soulless creatures in a society held together only by fear and madness is only a few bullets away. Batman was the counterpoint. The battle between id and superego raged, and the duel between the Joker and the Batman became an internal struggle within ourselves. Almost intuitively, There could be no resolution.  There was no maguffin, no conventional plot devices, and the only trope that was used (the hero always saves the girl) was devilishly subverted. 

     So, perhaps unavoidably, I went into the third installment with behemoth expectations. The film opens with archival footage of the last film, as if to remind the audience of the film's triumphant predecessor. What follows can only be described as a hot mess. The story is uncompelling. The plot revolves around the League of Shadows, the villains from the first film, trying to destroy Gotham once again. Instead of poisoning the city's water supply like they did in the first movie (remember? They used the Scarecrow?) this time they use a nuke and are governed by a new leader, a bulky masked brawler named Bane. 

     From the moment you hear his lines beneath an unforgivably squeaky voicemask, Tom Hardy's Bane feels hokey. I think the problem is Bane strives for Joker-dom, but he can't sell his philosophy because his philosophy is too ephemeral. Sometimes he is a champion of the poor and dowtrodden, other times he's a religious zealot dedicated to avenging the League of Shadows. He never settles, and the fact his voice  sounds like it's coming though one of those Darth Vader mask from Toys-R-Us doesn't help matters. 

     Bane isn't charismatic enough. Although he beats up Batman on several occasions, his personality is not strong enough to oppose Batman on a cosmic level. By his own admission, Nolan wanted a villain who could challenge Batman physically, but it alters the fabric of the Batman universe when the physical fight becomes the level of hero-villain competition. During one of Batman's clashes with Bane, I couldn't help but recall the fight between Batman and the Joker in the interrogation room. Physically, Batman destroyed The Joker.  The power of the scene came from the fact that, despite the physical match, the Joker could not have won the fight more cleanly through his own force of will. 

     Anne Hathaway's Catwoman is, at times, compelling.  She has moments of brilliance but lapses into Hedy Lamarr shtick far too often for me to take her seriously. Sadly, there wasn't much chemistry between her and the Batman either.  The real sizzle sparked between he and Marion Cotillard, who portrayed the Bats other love interest. With Catwoman, the romance seemed stale and the kisses had a distinctly unnatural flavor. 

 

     Christian Bale does the lion's share of the acting, but for a movie about Batman, he sure isn't in it very much. Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Gary Oldman deliver honest, albeit one-note performances as idealistic, tough as nails cops. But without any breakout performances or cosmic collisions, the bland story and cluttered cast rise to the surface. 

     Did I mention there were plot holes in the film so wide you could floss between them? 

     That's not to say the movie wasn't fun; the fights between Batman and Bane are gritty and brutal,  yet an odd feeling came over me as I watched the film. Without the vernier of Heath Ledger's legendary performance, the conservatism of the film wrapped its hands around me and, Bane-like, throttled me to the point of extreme discomfort. 

      For no explicable reason, Bane causes some class warfare in Gotham. The rich are murdered and the people begin to live Occupy Wall Street-style, subsisting on military issued government handouts. A little on the nose, I thought. Worse still, the nuke set to destroy the city was originally a green (literally and figuratively) energy source. Maybe the Bat-mobile runs on coal. 

     But the worst part about The Dark Knight Rises? Now I question whether I love "The Dark Knight" as much as I use to. I caught it on TV last night, and if you forget that Heath Ledger gave a performance that may have destroyed him, the storyline of that film is a convoluted mess, and the Patriot-Act overtones are hard to ignore. 

      Maybe I'm being too hard on the movie. After all, despite my newfound gripes, "The Dark Knight" was a masterpiece and "Rises" had some mammoth expectations to fulfill. I just ponder, as I tend to do in my spare time, if perhaps the wool has been pulled over my eyes in this Batman trilogy.  I'm a Batman fanboy through and through. I've loved the caped crusader ever since he and his rogue gallery stole my heart in the 1990's cartoon series. Maybe in the pursuit of the Bat, in my critical need to have my dreams of an awesome Batman franchise come true, I switched off my artistic filter. But without its predecessor, was this movie really a letdown? Maybe I'm being too critical, seeing specters of my own prejudices. I ping pong.

     My real downfall here is that I try to assess art objectively, but in the case of Batman, I don't know if I'm able to do so. And that, dear reader, is the quandry.