Sunday, November 18, 2007

Short and Sweet

The television was, some feared, the harbinger of doom for the film industry. One reason the television's aspect ratio was made boxish was to prevent movies from easily going to the television. Most films have pretty wide aspect ratios making it fairly rectangular.

Now, of course, with televisions becoming wider to match film ratios, films survive by getting on television.

At times, you don't realize a trip to the movies is controlled by many factors. The films themselves are almost always longer than an hour and a half, but shorter than three hours. An hour and a half or a little more is typical for a comedy, and two hours plus more common for dramas.

Most movies have to introduce the characters, action, and tell a story within those time constraints. An hour or so is just enough to do that. It contrasts greatly with ensemble shows on television, where you have many episodes to flesh out characters and relationships.

For example, Star Trek: The Next Generation had seven seasons to introduce their characters. And if people want to grow attached to the characters, you can't kill them off (which is sad that STTNG felt the need to have the "danger of the week" where the ship might blow up or characters might be killed, but, of course, aren't). Such ensemble pieces often struggle with strong, memorable characters. These are characters you become familiar with.

The weakness of this form is often seen in the big screen, when many of the minor characters are jettisoned, partly because of their acting skill, partly because the story or director is not skilled enough to juggle so many people (not everyone can be John Sayles).

The films that make it to the megaplex often have big budgets, big name actors, and tell fairly mainstream or genre pictures.

On the other end of the spectrum is the short film. Short films are often the product of film school students. Making an hour and a half film is extremely laborious requiring lots of people and lots of time. However, even a short film of twenty minutes is not nearly the "fire up the digicam and roll" experience one might imagine.

Twenty minutes is also really short to develop characters, to develop history, to have a semblance of a plot. It can be done, of course, but usually something has to go, and that something is typically both plot and characterization. Furthermore, the acting sometimes suffers, though typically, there is a glut of pretty good actors out there.

I was watching a short called Night Swimming
on TV. You'd kind of call it a coming-of-age film, but really, it's almost too short for that. One teen, whose father wants him to apply to college, is having second thoughts. His best friend is dating a girl who seem hot for one another. The two decide to head to a concert in New York City. The girl can't go because her parents won't let her.

Already, this summary shows some of the cracks of film-making. The director/writer needs a way to have the two guys be together for a quiet moment, and yet needs to stress the importance of the girlfriend, and thus, the awkward idea that she can't make it to the concert.

As they go, they end up going off the beaten path (partly because it's more scenic), and the car breaks down. With technology, one could use cell phones to call (though I've discovered some places are pretty rural, and calling out can be an issue), so this evokes a time where cell phones weren't so ubiquitous. They decide to hang out the evening until they can figure out what to do in the morning.

At this point, there is a rather odd artificial plot element added. A gunshot is fired. After all, they are in the woods. Perhaps someone is hunting. And one guy says there's some psycho out there. This turns out to be a bit of a red herring, but it adds tension to the rest of the film, because of all the old conventions of people getting killed.

After a while, it's revealed the loner teen whose dad wants him to go to college has long had a thing for his best friend. It's implied that something possibly goes on that evening as they sleep in the back of their SUV. The next day, Otter (the main character) gets up, and his friend has found the hunter, whose willing to give them a drive back. He looks creepy, and there's a thought something might go on, but again, more movie imagination. Already, his buddy is starting to distance himself from the experience.

Once they head home, his buddy is no longer interested in being together, though Otter wants it to go on, realizing it probably can't go on. He eventually places the envelope for applying to college in a mailbox (how quaint), and decides to get on with the rest of his life.

Now, compared to a longer film, this one barely has time to get to the key point of this film which is the quiet moment where one guy (Otter) finally admits to himself and his best friend how he feels. But a short film can hide some of the faults of a longer film. You'd be hard-pressed to imagine how they might stretch this film to standard feature length. That length would require a completely different plot, or something highly creative to work.

For a twenty minute film, however, there are smaller things to notice. The drive in secluded upstate New York, the sun shining in the trees, a small pickup truck, the music. Indeed, these elements, evocative of a time and place, trite as the may be, work better in short films. Short films are likely to lack in originality, mostly because the directors are often inspired by something important in their lives, often taken from films they've seen.

Even so, I'm willing to forgive a lot for shorter films because they are the stepping stone of directors, who often try to tell personal stories. You aren't likely to get genius, but you are likely to get reasonably good acting, reasonably good production values, and the germ of an idea trying to peek its head through.

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