It's alright, Bob (I'm Not There)

As most people who know me well enough are doubtlessly aware, around new years or thereabouts, I spent spent about two or three months of my sordid little existence indulging in a minor obsession over the music and persona of rock and roll’s self-styled poet laureate, Bob Dylan.

To me, Bob is really a musician like no other. When he was bad, and he had his lacklustre periods, he churned out some godawful stinkers. But when he was good, which he often was, he was so far ahead of the competition that it makes my head spin like a centrifuge - his mid-60’s beatnik lyricism, for instance, continues to twist my noodle each and every time again. Bob’s life and career contain so many contradictions that you could spend decades studying him and still discover new things each and every day. Like him or not, it’s undeniable that he’s a fascinating figure. There’s a reason that Dylanology is actually a thing, as stupid of a word as that is.

Thus, it's only natural that when I started reading and hearing all sorts of interesting things about I’m Not There, Todd Haynes’ 2007 biopic about Bob Dylan, it didn’t take me long to hunt down a copy of the film to give it a watch. Just looking at the trailer got me interested, and the poster for the film would’ve raised an eyebrow even if I were not a Dylan fan. “Christian Bale, Cate Blanchett, Marcus Carl Franklin, Richard Gere, Heath Ledger and Ben Whislaw are all Bob Dylan”? That’s the kind of tagline you need to sucker me in! I’m game! 

 

Be honest, you're just a little bit curious.

Yes, you read that right. Not content to have just one Bob Dylan in his movie, that greedy bastard Haynes casts six different actors to portray different iterations of everybody’s favourite sandpaper-voiced musical icon – including the Joker and the Batman, as well as a woman and a black kid. 

To non-Dylan connoisseurs I should explain this is not as bizarre a casting method as it’d seem. The above-mentioned contradictions that characterise Bob’s career are in no small part due to the many different public images he’s taken on during the last decade. His most enduring persona, the aloof rock star in shades of the mid-60’s, might be hard to reconcile with, say, the Felliniesque vagrant in white clown-makeup of the mid-70’s Rolling Thunder Revue, or the aged, dishevelled bluesman with the silly hat and pencil moustache he’s become in recent years. Todd Haynes tackles this multiple Dylan problem by using his six actors to portray six characters inspired by these different personas taken on by Dylan throughout the years. None of the characters are actually named Bob Dylan, but the intended parallels to Dylan’s life are obvious.

The results are interesting, to say the very least – though in all honesty, in hindsight I’m not entirely sure how well all of it works.

The film’s greatest performance is given by Cate Blanchett, who plays Jude Quinn, a former folk singer who went electric and became a rock star, infuriating his former fanbase. Quinn is the obvious parallel to Bob’s enduring mid-60’s persona: the haughty and sneering celebrity, constantly strung out on pot, sporting his iconic pair of dark sunglasses under a chaotic afro-like bob that looks like it’d break any comb in half that would as much as go near it. Quinn’s narrative evokes the infamous electric Dylan controversy, which started after Dylan played with a rock band backing him at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival and released a trio of electric albums, creating an outrage amongst his fans and the Greenwhich Village folk circuit. In a surreal scene, Haynes portrays the Newport incident as Quinn and his band walking on stage, opening their guitar cases, taking out a bunch of Tommy guns and opening fire on the crowd. Blanchett’s part of the movie is shot in black and white, in a style echoing Felini’s 8½ as well as the 1967 Dylan documentary Don’t Look Back by D.A. Pennebaker, which portrays the same era of Dylan’s career. It contains a number of other surreal sequences, such as a short cameo of the Beatles as they roll around in the grass with Quinn in a cloud of smoke and chirp to each other in high goofy voices, eluding to Bob's historic meeting with the fab four during which he's said to've introduced them to marijuana. Blanchett’s resemblance to Dylan is uncanny, both in appearance and in mannerisms. Jude Quinn is aloof and rude, verbally sparring with interviewers and putting down friend and foe alike. At the same time however, Blanchett’s Quin brings something almost femininely frail to the mid-60’s Dylan, showing him to be struggling with the burden of his fame, his drug problem and people’s expectations of him. Blanchett is simply a joy to watch in the role, and her scenes end up becoming the best part of the film by far. 

Some of the shots and sequences in Blanchett's scenes are simply stunning.

 

The rest of the film is a bit of a mixed bag, though leaning towards the good. Marcus Carl Franklin plays Woody Guthrie, a black kid who hitches rides on trains and busses to travel across rural America, earning his keep by playing songs on his guitar at shows and carnivals. He’s named after the folk singer who inspired his Bobness during the early stages of his career, and is meant to evoke Bob’s youthful beginnings and his tendency to lie about his origins. The plucky Woody is seen telling various contradicting tales about his past to the people kind enough to take him into their home for a day or two. He’s a trickster, but he’s got a compassionate heart (boy, that sounded like the corny tagline to a family film), which we see as he visits the true Woody Guthrie in a hospital and plays him a solemn song on his six-string as the man lies sick and dying.

Christian Bale gives a convincing performance as the young and shy but extremely gifted Jack Rollins, a Greenwhich Village folk musician meant to evoke the early years of Dylan’s career and his involuntary stint as the ‘voice of a generation’. Later on, Rollins becomes Pastor Jack, a born again Christian, echoing Dylan's controversial religious phase in the early 80's. Bale’s segment of the movie is shot in a mock-documentary style, complete with a cameo of female folk singer Alice Fabian, who represents Joan Baez, the woman who helped make Dylan famous but was soon left behind by him as he tore himself free from the folk circuit. Jack seems to exist in the same universe as a fourth Dylan interpretation, Robbie Clarke (portrayed by Heath Ledger), an actor who plays Bale’s Rollins in a Hollywood film. Clarke is likely meant to represent Dylan’s reclusive period in the late 60’s and early 70’s after his famous motorcycle crash, as well as his role as a husband and father and some of his rumoured misogynistic tendencies. Clarke’s part of the film is essentially a love story, as we see how he meets his wife Claire (the film’s analogue to Sara Dylan), how the two get hitched and how, in a number of heartbreaking scenes, their marriage slowly disintegrates. 

The most enigmatic parts of the film belong to Richard Gere and Ben Whislaw. Gere is cast in the role of a friendly outlaw named Billy the Kid, who wanders through a small, picturesque nineteenth century American town and confronts a sheriff named Patt Garet. Both characters are named after the 1972 film Patt Garet and Billy the Kid to which Bob did the soundtrack, the source of one of pop music’s most frequently covered ditties, “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”. Gere’s scenes seem highly allegorical, but their significance eludes me. They contain various bizarre elements, like many of the townspeople wearing masks and outlandish costumes and a band playing on stage with the corpse of a girl sitting in an open coffin. At one point there’s also a giraffe walking around in the background. Perhaps they portray the paranoia Bob's been accused of harboring, with Gere being a sort of eccentric outsider in a world of freaks? ("clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right", Stealer’s Wheel sing in their Dylan parody “Stuck in the Middle With You”) Do they signify the role of the artist as spokesperson and protector of the people? Or are they connected with Dylan’s fascination with old-timesey Americana on albums such as 1968’s John Wesley Harding? Ben Whishlaw plays Arthur Rimbaud (the name of a poet whose work influenced Dylan) and appears in a number of sequences without any real narrative continuity, as he is questioned by a tribunal and responds with quotes from mid-60’s Dylan interviews. He's likely meant to represent Dylan’s poetic qualities, spouting many mystifying one-liners which give some fascinating food for thought (“Silence, experience shows, is what terrifies people most”, he states at one point), but I’m not sure if he adds a lot to the film. 

  

Yup, this is a movie in which Bob Dylan is portrayed by a little black kid. If that don't beat all.

Scenes from the narratives of Haynes’ various Dylan interpretations intercut eachother throughout the film. Though I’ll give that a certain logic behind the choice of montage sequence might become apparent upon repeat viewings, my impression was that this was done mostly with little apparent rhyme or reason. After the opening credits (over which we hear Dylan’s “Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues again”, which I have to say is a fantastic choice for an opening tune) we get a scene of Franklin’s Woody hitching a ride on a train and making conversation with a bunch of hobos, after which he’s seen staying at the home of an elderly colored couple and playing some Dylan songs with two guitar-strumming negroes out on the porch. Afterwards we suddenly cut to documentary footage of Bale’s Jack Rollins, then it’s back to Woody, then it’s over to Robbie Clarke and his marital troubles, and so on and so forth. 

The result of this is that I’m Not There ends up feeling like a very fragmented viewing experience. Of course this is likely part of the point that the film is trying to make. It’s quite clear that I’m Not There, much like Citizen Kane, is attempting to foreground the theme of identity through presenting us with these various Bob Dylan interpretations. We have all these images of Bob, all these ways he’s manifested himself in the public sphere, but which of these is the real Bob Dylan? Or are these preconceptions about him that we’ve constructed all incorrect and is he someone else entirely? Is he, indeed, Not There at all? Robbie Clarke, portraying Bale’s Jack Rollins on film, motions at a promotional billboard of Rollins on a nearby building and says: “It’s not about me anymore, it’s all about him!” Like Jude Quinn is struggling with the discrepancy between who he is and what his public expects of him (and I almost typed her there, stupid sexy Quinn), Jack Rollins is despairing at the fact that people only see him as this figure the media has built him up to be, not as who he really is (indeed, from the mid-60’s onward Dylan strongly rallied against being labelled as the prophet of his or any generation). The confusion here is deepened by the fact this isn’t Jack Rollins who’s speaking but Robbie Clarke, an interpretation of Dylan portraying another interpretation of Dylan. 

Through this fragmentation Haynes seems to be implying that it’s impossible to answer the question of Bob’s identity (and that it might indeed even be a bit of a silly question to ask). The real Bob Dylan will not stand up, so all we’re left with are these various fragmented interpretations of his character, a fragmentation that the movie further thematizes by presenting us with a disjointed mishmash of the various narratives of these interpretations interspersed with each other. Still I can’t help but wonder if this structure (or rather lack of structure) was really necessary, as it makes I’m Not There feel like a very disjointed movie. Without the switches between the different narratives being announced, framed or explained in any logical fashion (like Welles does in Kane, as I’ve described) the film just feels fragmented for the sake of being fragmented, experimental for the sake of being experimental, which might turn off a lot of viewers.

I never knew Christian Bale recorded Dylan's The Freewheelin' - wait, my bad, Travelin' On. 

    

As you’ve no doubt already guessed, I’m Not There ends up becoming a bit of a specialty event for Dylan enthusiasts. Todd Haynes has done his homework: the film is peppered with references to pieces of Dylan trivia. Woody’s guitar case has the text “THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS” emblazoned on it in bold black letters, just as the guitar case of the young Bob’s idol Woody Guthrie. When Blanchett’s Quinn and poet Allen Ginsberg (portrayed by David Cross, and along with Guthrie the only historical character not given a pseudonym) are looking at a statue of Jesus on the cross, Quinn cups his hands and shouts at the statue: “How does it feel?’, a line from “Like A Rolling Stone”. This is probably a reference to a ‘66 live performance of the song, where Bob cupped his hands and shouted the “chrome horse” line into the microphone. There's a hilarious scene where Robbie Clarke goes out to buy a motorcycle, asks to take it for a test drive and promptly crashes it into a pile of discarded car tires - here Haynes is of course eluding to Bob's motorcycle crash in 1966. At one point Robbie and his girlfriend Claire are seen walking down a street arm in arm, Robbie wearing a brown leather jacket, the scene obviously evoking the cover of Bob’s first big album, 1962’s The Freewheelin´. The soundtrack is fantastic, with a smattering of Dylan songs, both originals and covers, often employed at just the right moment. To name just one example: as we see the cracks in Robbie and Claire’s relationship start to widen, “Simple Twist of Fate” plays in the background and I damn near cracked into a sniffle as well. Probably had more to do with the power of the song than the film, but a great choice of tune nonetheless. 

However, as Whislaw’s Rimbaud, quoting Dylan, says at the start of the movie: “a song is something that walks by itself”. And I’m afraid that this movie doesn’t walk without aid all that well. If viewed without the supporting crutch of a certain amount of Dylan expertise, it kind of stumbles and falls flat on its schnoz. I’m Not There does actually thematize questions of identity and fragmentation thereof in ways that might be interesting to those not familiar with the minutia of his Bobness’ career. The film opens with a scene of Blanchett’s Jude Quinn lying in a coffin, dead. A voiceover is heard: “There he lay. Poet. Prophet. Fake. Outlaw. Star of electricity.” A reel of mug shots of our six Dylan interpreters goes by, stopping at each epithet given by the monologue, implying that these six characters are all meant to represent sides of the same character. But the way in which the film unfolds itself, showing us scenes from the stories of these characters with no framing device or any sort of logic to explain the fragmentation, makes that those coming in without the necessary background information will likely walk out confused and baffled. I could excuse this if the film was explicitly framed as a Dylan flick all the way through, but the man's name never appears on-screen except in the opening credits: "inspired by the many lives of Bob Dylan". This implies that the film can be fully enjoyed and understood even if one comes equiped without the Dylan context, which to me simply doesn't seem true.
 

"There he lies. God rest his soul... and his rudeness."

 

Shame, really. By divorcing the film a bit further from the Dylan context and giving it more of a logical structure, I’m Not There could have been a fascinating experience for both fans of Bob and just fans of good film alike. Alternatively, by emphasizing the Bob minutia even more the film would have been even more of a treat to Dylan diehards, though obviously fully inaccessible to casual viewers. By straddling the fence the movie just kind of ends up falling between the cracks. That’s not to say it’s a piece of shit. Let me go on record saying that despite its faults, as a Bob fan I enjoyed the hell out of it and I’d heartily encourage Dylan enthusiasts to go see it. And if you’re not into Bobby Dylan, I suppose this flick can still be fun. How the entirety of the movie fits together will likely be lost on you, but the various narratives can be enjoyed in and on themselves (especially the Blanchett scenes). And who knows, maybe I'm underestimating the uninitiated audience: this film might tell those unfamiliar with Bob's career something about him after all.

In short: bit of a failed experiment, but a fascinating experiment nonetheless. To Dylan fans, this one comes recommended. To those not into Dylan, not saying you should stay away per se, but approach with caution.

Why Citizen Kane is considered a Big Deal™

Citizen Kane. I’m sure you’ve all heard of it. Orson Welles’ 1941 directorial debut has been called a masterpiece, one of the highlights of early cinema, often even the best movie ever made.  

Of course that last one is rather an overstatement, not in part because such statements are, by and far, entirely subjective. I’ve seen a lot of movies and Kane certainly doesn’t make my personal top five (nor is it my favourite Welles film – that’d be his adaptation of Kafka's Der Proces, which does make my top five, incidentally). Top ten though, maybe, and top twenty, yes, quite likely – because while the praise often lavished on it does contain a fair bit of hyperbole, at the end of the day it is still a smashing piece of cinema.

On the second of January this year I had the pleasure of attending a screening of Citizen Kane at a small movie theatre in Amsterdam. And when I say pleasure, I mean it – because while it may not be the best movie ever made, I would certainly say it is a masterpiece. Seeing it on a proper film screen was a treat. And more to the point of why we’re here, it inspired me to again reflect upon what it is about the movie that makes it work so well and why it prompts such exuberant praise. I realize veritable libraries’ve been written about Kane by now and that I likely won’t be adding anything new to the discussion. Yet I can still give you an overview of what I think its merits and significance entail, so if you’ve always found yourself wondering what the big deal about this movie is, mayhaps I can get you on the Kane bus after all. 

First, for the uninitiated, perhaps a brief run-down of the story. The titular Charles Foster Kane (haha, I said tit again) is born into a poor and humble family which suddenly comes into an extraordinary amount of money when a guest to his parents’ boarding house leaves his mother the deed to a piece of land which turns out to contain the world’s third largest gold mine. Kane’s mother sends the young boy off to boarding school to be raised and educated in a manner and environment she is unable to provide for him herself. When the adult Kane (played by Orson Welles himself) comes into full possession of his family’s fortune he turns his eye to the newspaper business, with tremendous results. He quickly becomes the country’s most powerful media mogul and even runs for governor of New York state, with many believing him likely to make a successful bid at presidency next. However Kane’s success simultaneously plants the seeds for his downfall, as he becomes enamoured with his wealth and social status and turns into an authoritative, controlling, megalomaniacal figure. The exposal of his love affair with young aspiring opera singer Susan Alexander destroys both his first marriage and his chances at being elected for office. After his marriage with Susan falls apart as well Kane eventually dies alone and hated on his vast country estate of Xanadu, whispering the word “Rosebud” with his final breath. 

 Kane making a grand speech to win electoral support.

But hey, wait just a darn tootin’ minute! I’ve been telling you the plot in the wrong order! Because you see, while the death of Kane is chronologically of course the final event of the story for the man himself, it is with this occurrence that the film actually opens. As often is the case, with Kane it is not merely the plot itself what makes it work, but the way in which it is presented to us. So if up to this point Citizen Kane’s story hasn’t seemed particularly thrilling to you then don’t leave your seats just yet – this is where things start to get progressively more interesting.

Instead of being presented to us directly, the story of Charles Foster Kane is framed through several flashbacks to his life and career. After showing us Kane’s death, the film continues with footage of a newsreel reporting the man’s passing and giving a brief overview of his life. A reporter named Jerry Thompson is then sent on a mission to uncover the meaning of Kane’s dying word, as Thompson’s editor believes Rosebud might hold the key to uncovering what the wealthy newspaper tycoon was really all about. His quest leads him past several of the men and women who knew Kane during his lifetime, each of whom tell us a different story about the man. Thus we are offered glimpses into the remarkable, complicated and ultimately tragic tale of this great and influential media tycoon.

Through giving us these various snippets of Kane’s life the movie is foregrounding the theme of identity, asking us one simple question: who exactly was Charles Foster Kane? Roger Ebert remarks that “[t]he structure of "Citizen Kane" is circular, adding more depth every time it passes over the life”. This is an astute observation and very much correct. Each time we hear a different character speak about Kane we learn a little bit more about him, as if the film is busy painting us a picture of his life right in front of our eyes, adding little flourishes and details each time a new account of it is presented to us. We slowly start being able to pick out and identify the various sides of Kane’s personality, the various stages of his life. We have Kane, the ambitious, young, defiant newspaperman. Kane, the rising star of the American media and business world. Kane, the swaggering and boastful politician. Kane, the adulterous lover. And eventually Kane, the bitter, old, secluded millionaire. By showing us all these different Kanes the movie seems to be asking us to somehow create a synthesis of these representations, suggesting that in the midst of these different images the true individual, the true Charles Foster Kane can be found.

The full answer to the question is never outright given, which is as it should be. We get glimpses, we get snippets, we get clues, but the complete picture never emerges. Of course everyone knows the meaning of “Rosebud”, Kane’s final utterance, by now – it’s become as much of a ubiquitous movie spoiler as the guy who turns out to be the other guy’s father (Frank Vader, I think his name was?) and MY GOD, THEY BLEW IT UP, THE BASTARDS. Indeed, It Was His Sled, the sled he owned as a child growing up at his parents’ boarding house. For Charles Foster Kane, this was the last time in his life he knew true love and happiness – or so the film seems to imply. “All he really wanted was love,” his best friend Leland Palmer tells us. “That’s Charlie’s story – how he lost it.” But while Rosebud is certainly an important part of the puzzle it still does not suffice to give us the entire answer. If love was all Charles Foster Kane was looking for, that still does not tell us why he ended up spending his life trying to govern people, to control them. Why he seemed to wish for their affection and acceptance yet at the same time spent his days pushing them away, attempting to isolate himself from them. “I don’t think any word can explain a man’s life”, Thompson tells us at the end of the film, and of course he is right. A man is more than simply words, more than the collective sum of his deeds, of his experience. When a person dies all that is left behind is the memory, but memory is never objective, always distorted. It can never add up to a complete human being, which Citizen Kane quite succinctly demonstrates. 

 

This is not a spoiler. You know this already. 

However the nonlinear fashion in which the plot unfolds itself and the way it plays into the theme of identity is not the only way in which this film stands out from the pack. Orson Welles was at his young age (he was 25 years old when he directed Kane) truly one of the film industry’s most visionary directors. He seemed to have an instinctive understanding of the unique language of cinema, being well versed in the techniques film brings to the table for the practice of story telling and moreover for the creation of visual art. Thus the cinematographical qualities of Kane are truly something to be looked out for, something to be admired.

Many of the more imposing shots in Citizen Kane could quite easily be framed and hung on the wall of your living room without any amount of shame. The photography and shot composition is often, in a word, quite simply stunning. Much has been written about the film’s use of deep focus, a camera technique by which each part of the shot is equally clear. The result of this is that “composition and movement determined where the eye looked first”, as Roger Ebert tells us. This (at the time) innovative use of focus plays into the visual aspect of the film which always intrigues me the most, namely the use of the interplay between light and shadow to create striking lighting contrasts in shot composition. This technique, known as ‘Chiaroscuro’, was already a favourite of German expressionist films (the most famous example being The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari). Citizen Kane took a big step in popularising it in mainstream cinema. Film noir’s love for playing with light and shadow can by and far be traced back to Kane: in fact, the film has been said to anticipate many of the stylistic staples of the noir genre. 

In Kane, Welles and cinematographer Gregg Toland use Chiaroscuro to present to us many striking, captivating images. Several examples might be given. We have the small, shadowy figure of reporter Thompson sitting down at a table in a gigantic library hall to look over the diary of Welles’ foster guardian, Walter Thatcher, while a single beam of light streams down from a tiny window up above. We have the scene where Kane, his wife and his mistress are standing in the hallway to the mistress’ apartment, out in the light. They face mobster Jim W. Gettys, his face and figure dark and shadowy as he stands in the doorway, threatening to reveal Kane’s affair to the world. And of course we have the many shots of the cavernous halls of Kane’s palace estate of Xanadu, where the multitude of pillars, chandeliers and statues cast ominous and gloomy shadows into this veritable dungeon Kane has built for himself to wile away the last dreary days of his life.  

Another great shot, a maid reflected in the shards of a snow globe dropped by a dying Kane.

Of course there’s more to the cinematography of Kane than simply being nice to look at. As I’ve said, Welles seemed to have an instinctive understanding of the unique language of film. Language implies opportunity and intent to convey meaning, and indeed many of the cinematographical techniques employed in Kane are loaded with meaning. The composition of shots, the interplay between light and shadow, the editing, the angles, they often carry a thematic significance.

Examples of this range from the simple to the complex, from the obvious to the subtle. In a quick montage of Kane’s youth we find a shot of the young boy looking up at his guardian Walter Thatcher, the camera moving upwards along with the young Kane’s gaze, showing us the old man towering over the lad, signifying his dominance. A few scenes later this shot seems to be quite subtly reversed. The adult Kane is conversing with Thatcher, who is critical of his newspaper business, and as the two stand up we see Kane has grown to be somewhat taller than his guardian, looking down on him ever so slightly: he shall no longer be ruled. Later on we find a scene of Thompson inquiring about Kane in the offices of a man named Bernstein, Kane’s financial supervisor during his life. Bernstein, aged and diminutive, is sitting at a large desk, in a chair the back of which extends upwards at least half a meter above his head. This emphasizes the small stature of this man who has always been a friendly and loyal yet demure servant to Charles Foster Kane: a tiny old man, humbled by age and experience. As the shot pans out we see a large portrait of Kane hanging over the fireplace, appearing to be looking out over the two conversationalists with a smug smile, asserting his authority and taunting them to discover his secrets. The portrait however is shrouded in darkness, the real Kane already having passed on to that shadowy realm that is the afterlife. In yet another scene we have Kane signing a declaration of principles to be printed on the front page of his paper to prove his integrity. Yet throughout the entire scene of him signing the document his face is obscured by shadow, signifying a certain disconnect, perhaps foreshadowing (no pun intended) his eventual betrayal of these principles to the temptations of wealth and power.

Significantly, one character that spends the entire movie obscured in shadow is the reporter Thompson, who we follow throughout on his quest to find the meaning of Rosebud. We spend many a scene literally looking over his shoulder as he interviews the various important figures in Kane’s life, the shot angle emphasizing his role as proxy for the audience. We never see his face, and indeed there is no need to put a face to him. His face is our face, his words are our words. As he asks the same questions we ask, we join him in his attempt to solve the riddle that is Charles Foster Kane. 

The famous double mirror shot, the many Kanes signifying the many versions of the character we see throughout the film.

While Citizen Kane might not be the best film ever made, it is quite likely one of the most important ones. I’ve already underlined some of its influential and innovative aspects, such as its use of deep focus photography and its popularising of Chiaroscuro. Its use of nonlinear narrative structure was at the time also quite new and refreshing, being ground that not many movies had yet trodden. Of course it did not outright invent most of the techniques and features it is known for. What it did do however is synthesize and perfect them, popularizing them for a wider audience. To coin a fun little analogy, in this we might call it the Jimmi Hendrix of early cinema. Roger Ebert notes that it is “more than a great movie; it is a gathering of all the lessons of the emerging era of sound”.

In recent years, the wild praise Kane often prompts in fans of classic cinema has caused a certain amount of hype aversion to grow around the movie. People’ve described it as being overrated, pretentious, outdated and quite simply rather boring. Overrated? I’ll give you that: as I’ve said I do consider it a good, even a great movie, but it’s not exactly the holy grail of cinema it’s sometimes made out to be. Pretentious? Perhaps, but if so then that is quite simply the nature of the beast, and not something I think you should fault it for. After all, Charles Foster Kane is meant to be a larger than life figure as well as a deluded man with visions of grandeur, so the bombast and occasional over-important ham acting are nothing more than fitting. Outdated? Again, perhaps, but it is of course a film set (and of course made) in the first half of the previous century. It paints a picture of the times. And the way in which it does this to me does not feel archaic at all. But boring? I’m sorry, but I just can’t see it. I’ll give that it might be a bit long. Two hours is a lot to sit through for any movie and I can see Kane losing some people’s attention after maybe an hour or so. It certainly moves along at a leisurely pace. However, I consider it to be a very dynamic, engaging film. Sure, stuff isn’t blowing up every five minutes, but the way we constantly keep jumping back and forth in time examining different periods and aspects of Kane’s life certainly manages to hold my attention. I suppose I can somewhat imagine modern audiences not being particularly thrilled by an intimate, carefully constructed character portrait such as Kane, but if they're not, I have to say I think they’re all the poorer for it.

So in short, you shouldn’t believe the hype too much, of course, but also: do not buy into the anti-hype! Sure, if you go into this movie expecting it to be the best thing since buttered yak, you’re going to leave disappointed. But if you go into Kane with an open mind, not setting your expectations high as the heavens but still ready to appreciate its artistry and many intricacies, I daresay there’s a good chance you’ll leave at least somewhat entertained. It certainly has my recommendation.

Or you could just go back to standing in line to get tickets for Big Momma: Like Father, Like Son and waiting for the next inevitably awful Ben Stiller movie. Go ahead. See if I care.

Boy, do I sound like a bloody elitist right now. I know what'll cure me of it though. Next on the agenda: silly British detective drama!

The Hobbit: trailer, hopes and expectations

And so it begins again. Eight years ago The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King hit theatres and blew away audiences everywhere (and ‘merely’ entertained to a very satisfactory degree the more nitpicky Tolkien geeks like myself). Now, finally, the long awaited adaptation of The Hobbit has tenaciously crawled its way out of development hell and the first trailer’s been released to the public. Thus the internet is in an uproar, with people proclaiming left and right that this is going to be the best thing ever and that they HAVE to see this movie.

Might I not be so critically inclined I would be one of them. To a certain extent I am. Sure, I want to see this film. Tolkien’s books are very near and dear to my heart. I grew up reading them. And while I do find Peter Jackson’s films have their fair share of faults, the moment you sit me down to actually watch them I’m perfectly happy to look past most of the problems, be a good boy, suck my thumb and enjoy myself. Say of ‘em what you will but whatever they get wrong I think they really capture the look and feel, the atmosphere of Tolkien’s world. Watching them you get the feeling that yes, this is what he must have imagined it to be like. 

But anyway, I’m getting off track, and I must always try and stem my gushes constructively. We’re here to talk about the trailer for The Hobbit, so the logical sequence of events would be to start off with giving it another watch. Let's do that, shall we? 

Yup, that’s it, right there. That’s the proverbial ‘thing’. Looks good, doesn’t it? But let’s grab our scalpels and try to dissect it a little. I love the smell of Hobbit blood in the morning! Sorry about that, I have issues.

So, my psychiatrist tells me that when discussing matters it's usually a good idea to start off by outlining some of the more positive aspects. Just now I stated (through phrasing it as a rhetorical question, clever bugger that I am) that this is a good-looking trailer, and I stand by that. Those set and costume designs that give off that distinct combination of old times-eyness (if that’s a word) with more than a hint of whimsical fantasy, that continually slightly gloomy and dreary atmosphere, the imposing and sweeping landscape shots and of course the bombastic, epic music: all the elements that mister Jackson employed so effectively to lure us into Tolkien’s world eight years ago are still in place. 

The casting seems good and is a thing to be excited for. Of course it's at least partly lifted from the previous movies - that's not really cheating though, as these're the same characters and this is obviously a prequel. Martin Freeman, a frood who knows where his towel is (and if you didn't get that reference, you might know him as Watson from the excellent 2010 modern-day Sherlock Holmes adaptation by the BBC) looks to be a good choice to play young Bilbo. He's got that image of the demure, mild-mannered little man who can nonetheless be brave and stubborn and a surprisingly badass mofo when the time calls for it. Judging by the scenes we have in this trailer I do get the idea that yes, this is the Bilbo I was reading about all those years ago. I like how he really does look like a young Ian Holm here - I wonder if a lot of makeup went into creating that effect? Either way, that's a good thing, adds a bit of consistency. 

I really love how cartoony some of the dwarves look, with those big noses and ridiculous beards. Fantastic stuff. It’s also good how different they look from each other. In the novel most of the dwarves apart from Thorin never take center stage for long so there is the danger that they kind of start to blend together in your mind. Speaking of Thorin, also known as mister Richard Armitage, also known as that German guy who shot Stanley Tucci then swallowed a cyanide capsule in Captain America (the bastard!)... eh, he hasn't convinced me yet. Then again, he really barely has any scenes in the trailer, which seems to be focusing mostly on Bilbo and Gandalf. He seems at least fitting for the role for as far as I can see, but time will tell. 

 

Seriously, these guys look great. Excellently unique character designs.

Of course no words need be said about Gandalf the Grey, also known as sir Ian McKellen to his friends and the pool boy, also known as YOU SHALL NOT PASS to eldritch abominations wrought of flame and denizens of the internet everywhere. He was great in the previous films and his performance looks to be equally satisfying here. Cate Blanchett will apparently be making another appearance as Galadriel, which somewhat mystifies me as the character wasn’t actually in the novel. She never really did it for me in the previous films, but eh, we’ll see where they plan to go with her. Someone who was in the novel and is also slated to make an appearance in the film (though for now he is merely Sir Not Appearing In This Trailer) is the beloved Agent Elrond, so that should be a jolly good time.

In fact, this movie seems like it’ll be lifting more than just actors from the previous films. The novel was originally written before The Lord of the Rings proper and later even received slight alterations to fit into the universe Tolkien established in his magnum opus (mostly to be found in the scene between Bilbo and Gollûm, the chapter name of which was name-dropped in the Fellowship movie: "Riddles in the Dark", in case you missed it). Here, however, the Rings films are obviously already in place and out there, so this movie is quite obviously being framed as a prequel. So we get little things like young Bilbo staring in awe at the shards of Narsil at Rivendell and the trailer being framed as old Bilbo telling Frodo a tale of his adventures. I wonder if that’ll be in the final film? Would be a fun way to frame the story, though I don’t really think it’s necessary. Anyway, details like these are neither here nor there, they’re just fun little continuity touches for the more obsessive fans. 

A recycled set, no doubt, but you can't convince me that this does not at least look promising.

However, the urge to make The Hobbit fall in line with the other Jackson films is also where some slight fear about the direction of the movie starts to creep in. Go back to the trailer for a moment and listen to that rendition of the dwarves chanting Thorin's song. Awesome stuff, right? Pretty damn haunting. It's very gloomy and downcast, almost like a dirge. Yet there might be hints of a problem there, because from there on the trailer takes a distinct turn for the dreary. 

And while The Lord of the Rings is certainly like that (as in, the books are like that, and thus the films are like that and should be), The Hobbit is generally a rather light-hearted little romp. Let's not forget it was written as a children's book. Even after the aforementioned alterations we still have things like Elves dancing about and singing songs, and trolls exchanging playful banter while threatening the dwarven party before Gandalf shows up and outsmarts them by playing a clever yet cartoonish trick. I can understand and appreciate the effort to truly make it feel like a prequel to Rings and thus shifting the feel and atmosphere to make it feel like an extension of that story. However, it'd be a damn shame if the light-heartedness would get burried underneath all that.

I wonder how much Pete 'n his team are aware of this dichotomy and how far they're taking it into account. You see, the trick is that The Hobbit is actually quite a different book than The Lord of the Rings. Apart from being more accessible and concisely written the story is also of much less epic proportions, it feels more down to (middle) earth, more intimate, more whimsical, even cartoonish at times. I think attempting to drag it in line with Rings without losing too much of that is a real tight-rope act. Perhaps I'm being overly skeptical, there's plenty hints in the trailer that the upbeat stuff is certainly in there, like the dwarves falling on Bilbo's doormat all in a huddle and them dancing a merry jig at what looks to be the going-away party at Bag End. Still I have to be critical and hope it's a consideration Jackson has made and that he's managed to go about it in a decent enough manner. I'm sure it'll be an entertaining movie even if he hasn't, but I do fear that in that case something will be lost. 

 

The man who has to make it all happen... wait, why isn't he wearing proper pants? 

But hold on a damn second, I haven't even mentioned that this thing has a subtitle. Cripes! This piece'a shit is gonna be a two-parter! Yes, this is The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, coming to theatres in 2012 to tell you exactly half the story, so Peter Jackson will be able to wring us for admission fee again in 2013 and double his winnings. What an asshole! In all seriousness, this is probably a good thing. I said above that The Hobbit is a very concisely written book. This means that you can't really cut too many corners in leaving things out of an adaptation before the seams start to show, so it's nice to see they're making sure they have plenty of room to get all the important stuff in there (though the cynic in me wants to say that ticket revenues did probably play a role in the decision...). Still it does mean we'll not be getting to see some of the fun stuff just yet, especially big bad dragon Smaug, who as word on the street has it will be voiced by mister Benedict Timothy Carlton Cumberbatch - also known as the literal Holmes to Martin Freeman's Watson in the BBC's aforementioned Sherlock, so that should give that series' fandom an opportunity to have some fun.

But yeah, that's the trailer for The Hobbit for ya. I ended up rambling about it a bit longer than I thought I would but I hope it's given a bit of insight into what I hope and expect the film to be. And while I've been relatively critical I certainly am looking forward to this movie - c'mon Pete, don't fail us, we know you've got it in you!