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Master of Ennui
 Some
people would — correction: do
— accuse me of having a low taste in films. For example, I got an
outraged reaction from the egghead community when I suggested that some
of Ingmar Bergman’s earlier films might be much improved if they
were colorized. Blasphemy!  One
reader (and I can’t actually prove it was
Woody Allen, but draw your own conclusions) sent a death threat.
Well, why not
colorize? I’ve just watched Miracle on 34th Street
about ten times, in both the original black-and-white and colorized versions,
and I like the colorized version a lot better. Who doesn’t, really? The
main reason old movies were usually shot in black and white was economic,
not aesthetic: filming in color used to be a lot more expensive and a lot more
trouble. Eventually, even Bergman went to color. Today, everyone does. Yet
somehow black-and-white is still felt to be more “artistic.”
I have one
question for these highbrows: Pourquoi? (Some of them won’t
answer you if you ask in plain English.)
Not that I
don’t have my own highbrow side. I’ve always been a big fan of
Laurence Olivier, so the other night I stayed up late just to see him in a
cameo role. It turned out to be one of the worst movies I’ve ever
seen: a war movie called A Bridge Too Far, released in 1977.
It’s the sort of movie that isn’t just a movie, but “a
major motion-picture event.” With commercials, it ran over four
hours, and Olivier didn’t show up until the last few minutes.
The director,
Richard Attenborough (you may recall him as a charming actor in such films
as Jurassic Park), should be singled out for special obloquy. If
Alfred Hitchcock was the “master of suspense,” then
Attenborough deserves to be known as the world’s reigning master of
ennui, and I’m not forgetting Bergman. I had to prop my eyelids open
to stay awake long enough to see Olivier.
How do you
make a film as totally boring as A Bridge Too Far? I’ve
been pondering this; it takes a kind of genius to put an audience to sleep
while breaking their eardrums with volume. Extreme length is only part of the
formula. Epic ambition is another: a huge budget and an all-star cast, which
all but guarantee a hopelessly muddled story. But the crucial element is
explosions.
![[Breaker quote for Master of Ennui: The 'Jack's nostril' principle]](2006breakers/061225.gif) Long
ago, someone filmed an
explosion for the first time, and it must have been tremendously exciting,
even in silent movies. Soon everyone was doing it. The effect was multiplied
when sound was added. And it was even more exciting when color film came
along, and the explosions burst into glorious red and orange. Finally directors
like Attenborough took the idea to what must have seemed its logical
conclusion: If one explosion was exciting, what could possibly be more thrilling
than four solid hours of explosions?
By that
reasoning, the answer seems obvious: eight or ten hours of explosions. But
after a few bloated war epics like The Longest Day and
The Battle of Britain (which also had an Olivier cameo), even
Hollywood producers must have begun to realize that there were limits to the
endurance of audiences. Epic violence brings diminishing returns.
Unfortunately, they forgot to tell Richard Attenborough.
They also
forgot to tell him what Hitchcock used to say. An explosion is much more
exciting if the audience knows it’s coming and the characters
don’t: if, say, there’s a time-bomb under the table. Such a
situation is the opposite of a battlefield, where all the characters are
expecting things to go boom.
Let me make
the point another way. How many characters have you seen killed in the
movies? You’ve lost count. How many times have you seen a
character get his nostril slit with a switchblade? Once. Jack Nicholson. And
you’ve never forgotten it.
A little
violence goes a long way, if you do it right. If you want to make the audience
wince, don’t show them a man being shot dead. Show them his finger
being slammed in a car door. The most exciting moment in A Bridge
Too Far comes when Olivier lowers his eyes.
Attenborough is an even worse director than Bergman, because in
Bergman’s movies at least the noise doesn’t keep you awake. I
certainly wouldn’t want Bergman to add explosions, though an
occasional barroom brawl might not hurt.
Joseph Sobran |
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| Copyright © 2006 by the
Griffin Internet Syndicate, a division of Griffin Communications This column may not be reprinted in print or Internet publications without express permission of Griffin Internet Syndicate 
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