Blog - by Ignatiy Vishnevetsky on Thursday, May 14, 2009 19:55 - 14 Comments
Code Unknown
by Ignatiy Vishnevetsky
A mysterious transmission, an MS. found in a bottle that somehow ended up on the screen. This inhuman film. This monster. There’s a lot to write about The Happening–a lot to write because so little has been written. When the movie was released last summer, the response from reviewers was a steady monotone. The reviews’ll tell you very little about the movie, but a lot about their authors: that they think cleverness is more important than intelligence, plotting’s better than feeling, and verisimilitude is important above all else. That they think that there are such things as “good” and “bad” acting and that a movie is not itself, but the interpretation of a screenplay. That cinema is a grammar. That they want that mysterious variable–”quality”–which The Happening completely lacks. And it’s the better for it.
It’s easier to identify decor than ideas. So we call anything with a cowboy hat a Western, anything with dancing a musical, anything with guns an action film, anything with a handkerchief a melodrama, anything strange “science fiction,” and anything with a sharp knife horror. It’s degrading, not because it misidentifies (ultimately a pedantic footnote), but because it’s usually used to denigrate movies classified as “genre films.” No one would say that The Quiet Man “is a drama” and end at that, but we’re fine with saying that Canyon Passage “is a Western,” as if that’s enough to let people know whether they want to see it or not. And when we feel there’s more to say than that, we write that a movie “transcends the genre.” So we say The Happening is a “horror film” and we use that word as if it refers to one thing. But it’s a term whose beauty lies in its vagueness. Horror can be a confrontation, as in Haneke. It can be a liberation, as Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s recently demonstrated with the little, personal horrors of Tokyo Sonata. It can be the description of a struggle, like in Carpenter. It can be a violation of taboo, like in a Coffin Joe movie, or the reinforcing of a social code, like in Nakagawa or Craven. But The Happening isn’t any of these. We attack it, we’re disgusted by it, because it doesn’t seem to be horror at all–and then again, what’s it supposed to be? The Happening is made in a language entirely its own. It begs to be decoded. It ignores every convention of contemporary American cinema. There’s no naturalism here, little handheld camera. The characters are banal, not fashionably quirky. It’s asking, “What kind of movie am I?”
Well, first off, it isn’t a thriller; The Happening’s got no highs or lows, only a flat, inevitable doom, an abandonment of “drama” in favor of images and sounds and of “plotting” in favor of edits. There’s no twist ending. The final scene, which repeats the opening, confirms what we already know. It isn’t visceral, and is the more unsettling for it: there are maulings and deaths and mutilations in The Happening, but no “violence.” Violence is something social; violence is inflicted, it’s a matter of choices and actions. It’s emotional; for something to be pain, it has to be felt. No one killed in The Happening feels it. No one flinches or screams. People stick pins through their necks, hurl themselves off of roofs or smash their heads through windows with no emotion, not even calmness. There’s that infamous scene where the characters huddle to watch a video of a man having his arms bitten off by lions. What’s unsettling is not what’s on the iPhone screen, but the calmness of the reactions. It’s only a video, and so they’re able to watch unflinchingly.
If there is a horror to The Happening, it’s the horror of Bigger Than Life: a world that is empty. It has the directness of simple terror: The Happening is a series of little panics, episodes that are disconcerting in their acceptance of the fantastic. There is more Buñuel here than Hitchcock and more Shyamalan than any of his other films: with The Happening, he essentially strips away any attempt to be anyone else (namely Steven Spielberg) and any trace of the neat sentimentality that he’s often intoxicated by. It’s more expression than entertainment.
An expression of what? Maybe the director’s fears. There isn’t just “the situation,” but the unsettling way in which characters react to it. The irony of so many reviewers attacking the film for the implausibility of its plot (besides the fact that that kind of criticism belongs to another century), is that the movie isn’t an “ecological parable;” what’s horrifying isn’t that nature can turn against us, but that we are essentially machines, an idea that is spiritually unsettling to Shyamalan. To believe in the soul, Shyamalan must believe in free will and the world of The Happening is a nightmare where humanity is negated. When we talk, we’re merely transmitting information, not expressing. People are just fleshy machines.
The plot is a simple B-film set-up, the kind that would’ve been written for Lippert Pictures fifty years ago. For reasons unknown (i.e. unnecessary), flora in the US Northeast have begun releasing a chemical that forces people to kill themselves. A high school science teacher, his wife, his friend from the math department, the friend’s daughter and a dwindling group of refugees flee Philadelphia for the country. The high school teacher is Mark Wahlberg, all flesh and muscle; his wife is Zooey Deschanel, an image who almost resembles a human being. If the film has a human, it’s John Leguizamo, who doesn’t manage to live to the end. As in the films of Joseph H. Lewis, every image is not merely forceful, but seems to have been made forcefully. When the camera is stationary, it isn’t resting, it’s bolted down. When it moves, it’s a shove, not a glide. M. Night Shyamalan strips away all pretensions of verisimilitude: The Happening is a film without details. Every face is gigantic, even on the small screen, the features somehow distorted. Every line of dialogue is like a thudding footstep–a conscious progression.
To a man who believes in God, as Shyamalan clearly does, there is only one thing scarier than the chance of his non-existence: the possibility of his indifference. This is not the prodding God of Signs or the unmentioned God of Unbreakable and The Village, who watches while we go about our pathetic little lives. Heroism and virtue exist in those films; our actions have weight. But in The Happening, God, if he exists, doesn’t give two shits. Affection and friendship are nullified. It’s a world in which children are killed with no consequence. Our protagonists live to the end through a combination of circumstances that have little to do with fate or ability. They haven’t survived–they just haven’t been killed yet.
14 Comments
Terrence Trentdarby
Terrence,
First, because I believe too much in movies to think that only a few of them are worth caring about. My loyalty, I guess, lies not with particular movies or directors but with the idea of cinema itself–I’ll accept it in whatever form it comes along in. I think every film has something to offer and the idea that only a few of them are important, though comforting to some, is based on the logic that cinema is inherently unimportant (akin to only recognizing a few novels, but not the idea of literature). Issues of “bad” or “good” are ultimately moot; “Why?” and “How?” and “What?” seem more appropriate.
Second, because, for all his faults, I think Shyamalan is not the sort of person who does things unintentionally. He may not always understand his audience, but he understands movies fairly well (and from this you get the “uncommercial” decisions that pop up in his films, like the Hou + Jancso wide shots he uses for conversations in The Village).
PS I apologize for not being able to work a good “Wishing Well” joke into the above response.
Jean Clavier
You are right. Shyamalan does not do things unintentionally. He means everything that he does. Which is why this movie is so horrible. It is overly earnest and totally and completely humorless, which is why it is so funny. Now if you want to make a case that Shyamalan is some kind of comedic genius, I dare you. But you can’t. You can do as many intellectual and theoretical back-flips as you want, but it will not stop me from having felt that I wasted my time and money on this movie. I suspect that the entire point of your piece is to prove to everyone that you and you alone are able to suss out what is so remarkable about this film, and as such, proving to the rest of world how so very wrong it is, which seems to me a very obvious and dubious form of contrarianism, kind of like the parlor games that first year grad students play with each other when they are stoned and bored on a Saturday night. There is plenty of trash that is waiting to be spun into gold, and the fact that you picked this fresh diaper means that you aren’t digging very hard.
Jen S.
Q: What kind of movie am I?
A: The bad kind.
Jean,
It appears that this post has touched off a nerve.
There are no intellectual or theoretical back flips here: I genuinely like this movie, and I’m happy to praise it, and it seems that you’re somehow offended by the fact that I like it and see it as an attack when it’s really just a little defense. “You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist,” etc.
You mention money here. Would you think of the movie differently if you hadn’t paid to see it, or if you watched it on DVD or cable instead of the theater?
Jean Clavier
I don’t know about you, but I have to pay for my DVDs, and same with cable, as I get something called a bill every single month. So I would have been upset with any platform I viewed this movie on. You see, I don’t have much time to watch movies. I have a job and a family and both of those take up pretty much every single free moment I have. Once a month, if I am lucky, I get to go out with my significant other and see a movie, and since my options are severely limited in the city I live in, what I usually end up seeing is mainstream commercial drivel, of which The Happening occupies the ass end of the spectrum. You know what horrible acting is? I’m going to give you a tip, so read carefully. Bad acting is when I don’t believe that the other person believes what they are saying, or has no idea what they are talking about, which extends to everyone involved in The Happening, including the actors and the director. I did not buy it from moment one. Like his last movie, Shyamalan seems to be making it up as he goes along, and he’s not good enough of a storyteller to pull it off, and I am not childish enough to believe the bullshit that he is slinging. In other words, I feel like I am being conned. I don’t like that. That’s not what I go to the movies for, is to be taken for a mark. If there was one single moment where I felt like Shyamalan was in on the joke I would have relaxed and gone along with his shenanigans, and I waited for that moment, but it never came. Does he have interesting ideas? Yes. So does Larry Cohen. So maybe I should’ve spent my money on renting God Told Me To. Maybe you should to if you want to see an example of a movie that is doing precisely what you claim The Happening is doing, even though I would have to disagree with you and say that The Happening, and Shyamalan, is doing nothing but wasting people’s time.
Wow Jean, tell us what you really think. To my mind, Ignatius’ peice is in total good faith. I myself happen to really like the film as well, and, for what it’s worth, David Bordwell and any number of French critics have embraced Shyamalan. Yes, he’s got a wooden ear for dialouge, and his so-called twist are returning increasingly diminishing returns, but I think there is something interesting going on with him and his camera. The way he shoots groups of people, in particular, really excites me (see also The Village for some great examples). People seem to forget that film is primarily a visual medium, instead embracing story and plot as the be-all, end-all of what movies are/should/can be. And, just for the record Jean, what would be a form of contrarianism that you condone, as opposed to the “obvious and dubious” kind?
Jean Clavier
The interesting kind, Danny. A little more obtuse, a little less transparent. And thanks for reminding me that film is primarily a visual medium. I had totally forgotten about that. The next time I watch the Happening I will watch it with my eyes opened. Because it sure doesn’t sound like a good movie.
Jean,
It seems like your argument against this post is an I argument against what you perceive as my background or motivation. Which I have nothing against, because context plays a big part in how we perceive things. It seems more like what we’re arguing here is not the content of the post, but the post as a gesture–i.e. “why would someone write this?”
So I’ll say, in the name of context, that I get most of my movies for free (be they DVDs or in the theater), though I did pay for The Happening when I saw it last year (I rewatched it on DVD in preparation for writing this post, which was based on notes taken when it was still in theaters; my main motivation was that I was surprised no one had risen to defend it since its release). I don’t have a family and I’m what you’d call a “professional cinephile,” meaning that movies occupy the sort of place in my life that earning an income should. Which is not to say that I come from wealth and privilege; I live frugally in a cheap part of a cheap city and work part-time and odds-and-ends jobs to pay the rent and get the basic necessities. Once a year I’ll do some well-paid work full-time for a few months. I’m familiar with Cohen, and I’d definitely rank God Told Me To alongside Perfect Strangers as one of his best movies.
Whether I like it or nor, money plays a big part in our perceptions of things. I’d venture to guess that the reason you find this post offensive is that it suggests that people should go out and spend money on The Happening. That is ultimately comes down to a question of investment. If there’s anything I’ve tried to do in recent years, it’s escape overcontextualizing (which is ultimately much more pedantic–and fashionable–than the contrarianism you’re accusing me of here) in favor of approaching things on a more basic level to try and understand how they function across multiple forms and situations. But your comments (as well as a set of interviews I conducted yesterday) remind me that context is bigger that I’d hope for. And, in a way, though I feel you’re overreacting, I’m thankful for it. I like the Internet for this re: that it gives me the opportunity to be criticized and to be proven wrong, which is probably why it’s played such a big role in my self-education.
Daniel Gorman
Jean, I’m not sure you meant to say “obtuse”, and if you did, I’m not sure that what you think obtuse means is exactly what you think means, at least in this context. I am absolutely amazed that you seem to have taken it among yourself to defend all those poor people who were duped into spending money on this film, since you have deemed it entirely unworthy of any consideration whatsoever. Clearly, any person who would defend The Happening is totally against mothers, family, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Your sarcastic venom speaks clearly as to your point of view, and the fact that you seem entirely unwilling to entertain any dissenting point of view. We get it - you don’t like the film. Is it so disagreeable that others, well, disagree? Please, continue to give us your “tips” as to how we should view movies. God forbid that we disagree, or that you argue anything more substantial than “it sucks, and you suck if you don’t realize that it sucks”. Truly, bravura criticism on your part. Shall we start on America’s reception of James Gray?
Jean Clavier
Daniel, stop being so condescending and maybe you won’t be condescended to. “Film is primarily a visual medium.” Say that to someone in the meatworld and I promise you that their response will be much more sarcastic than mine. And I like James Gray, btw. And I love Iggy’s writing. Can’t wait to read it, whether it’s here or elsewhere. I just happen to detest this movie, and cannot for the life of my understand why anyone would WANT to defend it and it’s ridiculous, malignantly narcissistic director. So really, you disagree with my disagreement and around and around we go. If you were as open minded as you think you are then you would have read my comment and then forgotten about it two seconds later. But you didn’t. Because you wanted to disagree with my opinion. So what makes your positive opinion any more valid than my negative opinion? Only positive opinions count? Negative opinions have no value? I don’t get it.
Miguel Marías
I sincerely don’t understand either why so little attention has been paid to The Happening or this whole discussion. If you don’t believe a thing in it, Jean, nothing nobody would say will make you change that feeling (which is what I take ir to be, rather than a judgement or an opinion) of falsehood or senselessness. So that’s it. Thankfully, nobody is forced to share Ignatiy’s opinion, yours, Daniel’s or mine. I would not have felt offended or hurt, liking the film in question, even more perhaps than him, if Ignatiy had written it off. A disagreement, that’s all. So I cannot understand your being cheated, nobody forced you to see The Happening, and not many reviews in the US would have prompted you to do so. I pay for everything I watch, theatrically or on DVD, I have a full-time job, I have a family as well, and many times I have hoped that a film would interest me and it didn’t, perhaps even it was my fault, I was too tired, or worried, or on another sort of mood (try to see a really funny comedy one day you’re really pissed off) .
Miguel Marías
Daniel Gorman
I had really forgotten about this entire thread and how much the comments really, genuinely annoyed me. Miguel - Nobody paid attention to the discussion not because of Ignatius’ opinion, or writing ability, or the relative quality of the comments section, or even the quality of the film in question - but because, as Jean very competently describes (inadvertently), discussion doesn’t matter. Opinions are set in stone, and that is that. I very much appreciate that she calls me out for being sarcastic and insincere, suggesting that if i were a big enough man I would have simply avoided the conversation in the first place. This is, of course, notwithstanding the fact that she commented first, comparing Ignatius’ writing to college freshmen getting high and debating nonsense and that she then denigrates me for being sarcastic - which I’m not convinced I am, at least not more so that Jean herself being entirely condescending and insulting - Regardless, I should certainly be ashamed for writing on the defensive when someone compares a writer, who is a friend, and a film, which i would argue is at the very least interesting, to nonsense, and then so casually dismisses the entire conversation. Also, what does “the meatworld” actually mean? Are you suggesting that if I broached my opinion in the real world, people might disagree with me? Or, heaven forbid, mock me? The list of films and directors that the real world has rejected could, and has, filled books - this is not a basis for criticism. The “meatworld” elected Bush for a second term and made Titanic the highest grossing film of all time. Next, please.
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It’s asking, “What kind of movie am I?”
And I’m asking, “Why do you care?”