Watching films is not as intensive now as it was two years ago. Neither do I want to see films that much, nor are there any films that one is in a hurry to see. So, in my case, everything about cinema is taking a back seat, retreating to a corner, curled up there, in silence.
There are some films I’ve seen recently that I wanted to write about while I was in the mood, the residual heat, and that little impulse, but in the end I didn’t get around to it. I promised my friends that I would write about them, that I would write about them, that I would write about them, that I would write about them, that I would write about them, that I would write about them, that I would write about them.
I was tired of the movies. Strictly speaking, I was tired of some of the films. Many of them are just everyday pastimes, and I can’t bring myself to review them with any enthusiasm. Or rather, no more interested than in talking to my friends over a glass of wine or playing with my son.
Modern cinema is mixed up with so many things that it seems to be muddled, mixed up, muddied. The taste has changed. As a result of my work, I have a couple of films on hand for commercial partnerships, and the head of film merchandising says that they have scripts that can have plot details altered to suit the cost of commercial input.
These films, which are due to be released at the end of 2017 and early 2018 respectively, have big casts and are all hundreds of millions of dollars in production, but these films are not really much different in essence from the Xiaomi 4s or iPhone 6s. Sometimes, I really admire those veteran writers who write mobile phone reviews. If they were to switch to writing movie reviews, perhaps Chinese movies would be as big and impressive as OPPO and VIVO phones.
Today I would like to talk about a simple film: Gravity.
To be honest, I’m not familiar with director Alfonso Cuaron, I’ve seen one or two of his films before, but I wasn’t particularly impressed either. But what I remembered from that day when I saw Gravity is, three years later, surprisingly clear. That day, probably because it was a weekend lunchtime show, there were only 3 people in the entire Hall 7. Technically, there were only 1.5. I brought my two 3.5 year old boys, one free and one half, adding up to one and a half tickets, but I was treated to a packed house.
This movie-going experience was a bit special. I remember that the two little ones didn’t talk loudly or move around because of the large, empty seats in the screening room, they watched the whole film quietly. I can’t remember if there was one or two occasions, I think, where they went to the front row and tried to reach out and touch the space station on the screen. From start to finish, the astronauts and the station had their full attention.
The film tells the story of astronaut Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock), who has a strong will to come back from the “debris storm” that hit the US space station. In the film, another astronaut, Matt Kowalski, played by the hunky George Clooney, plunges into the depths of space to rescue Ryan. This episode takes place roughly in the first 20 minutes of the film, and thereafter, the film is done almost solely by Bullock.
This simple, pure and concise to the extreme space disaster story has generated numerous associations and critical acclaim. Some consider it to be a space version of The Young Ones, others another interpretation of The Shawshank Redemption, and even three years later others consider The Revenant, starring Leonardo, to be almost an enhanced version of it.
So much so that we find that this simple film has a rich and unexpected connotation, with the average viewer experiencing the wonder of a walk in space through the immersive visuals of the film, as well as appreciating how lonely and beautiful weightless, silent space can be.
But those who have been lost and reborn from their perilous situation feel the same, so much so that they choke up and cry silently. The “storm of debris” in outer space between the universes becomes, in their eyes, a constant occurrence in their lives: lost loves, lost lives, lost jobs, lost orphans, bankruptcies, divorces, disabilities, terminal illnesses, and the vastness of space on the other side is now so close to them, so close that it is comforting to the body and mind.
It seems that the film went on to win seven Oscars, one of which was for Best Actress. Sandra Bullock’s performance is, without a doubt, textbook, panic, loss, exhaustion, despair, struggle, fear, pain, honesty, every octave of emotion, all played to a wonderful degree.
If in The Wilderness Hunter Leonardo’s rivalry was black bears, dead horses and storms, wounds, hunger and the flames of revenge, Bullock’s object of the film is the void, emptiness and the ebb and flow of her inner world, and her performance is a natural reflex after digesting the role, a natural outburst after she has fully committed herself to it – natural and unmistakable.
Later on, I watched Star Trek, Mars Rescue and other films with similar themes in the same cinema, but unfortunately, I never found the feeling that Gravity gave me again, possibly because that viewing experience was too special, or perhaps – later on – the films were too complex.
Today’s films are really too complex.
All the elements are stacked together, love, suspense, thriller, nonsense, science fiction, we have stacked all that can attract the audience, laughing points, tearing points, painful points, triggering points; we also started selling how many minutes and seconds and frames of footage to advertisers when we first created a film; also, in order to take into account the different age groups of old, middle and young audiences, we have again mixed Matt Damon, Andy Lau and Lu Han mixed and matched, with a bite of American hamburger, a bite of Hong Kong style BBQ pork rice and a spoonful of sweet cheese, and then what?”
And then what happened?
Then all of us filmmakers learned to refuse to make a simple but great film; all audiences learned, to refuse to see a simple but great film.
Like a film like Gravity.
The reason I’m adding this little essay, or running commentary, a few years later is that I can’t forget it. From time to time I think of that day, the beautiful day, the day when I indulged in a simple but great film, the day that carried that wonderful and subtle feeling into the present. Later, I always admonish myself: if you are tired of complicated and bad films, why not go and watch something simple and great?
