ON THE NECESSITY OF POETRY IN FILMS
by Patryk Rebisz

I re-watched George Cloone's directorial debut, “Confessions of Dangerous Mind.” He understood that the film better be remarkable or he might never - despite his fame - get a chance to direct again. Cleverly he also understood that a good film needs to have a strong form so he worked with his cinematographer to give the film a very specific, over color corrected, look (apparently inspired by washed out colors of 50s and 60s films – though here looking very un-organic and digital). The film was penned by one of the finest American screenwriters – Charlie Kaufman – one of the few writers that hope to go beyond storytelling in American cinema. This desire he expressed in writing himself (and his alter ego) into “Adaptations” where one side of him struggles with desire to write about ephemeral moments of life – petals of a flower – and another who just wants to enjoy the pop-culture trash of action films. The film ends with an elaborate chase sequence through the marshes of Florida – with those scenes he admits that in America to make film about nothing but poetry is impossible.

And yet he attempts to do so again in “Synecdoche, New York.” This film was also Kaufman’s directorial debut. In it he re-creates a life sized replica of New York City inside a warehouse. Unlike Clooney, Kaufman didn’t have enough directorial know-how to even attempt to comprehend necessity for strong form. The over color corrected images of “Confessions of Dangerous Mind” was Clooney’s attempt to infuse his film with the “Other,” an element of strangeness that would raise the film above the banality of simply telling a story. Kaufman was so distracted by his script that he didn’t even bother coming up with anything other than standard TV-like scene coverage.

Strong form lets relatively mediocre films like “Last Tango in Paris” raise above, while weak form (the typical coverage so familiar to us from television) forces the story to be about nothing else but the story itself. One can presume that if the story is as “unique” as “Synecdoche” than equally strong form is not necessary. Yet it isn’t so. Strong form implies that the filmmaker has “lived” the scene. It shows that the scene is not born out of intellectual exercise but is supported by living experience. Strong form shows the maker’s perception, that the maker didn’t just “live it” but also was paying careful attention to how that living occurred. The strong form is a result of paying attention to life. Strong form though is not as simple – as Clooney has learned from his directorial debut – as boldly coloring of the images. Clooney’s answer to “strong form” problem is a very American answer. “Citizen Kane” ravishes the senses with its bold framing and deep focus photography – but in essence it simply “wows” the eyes without a clear reason why it’s necessary for the story. There is nothing behind the glossy images. Yes, the boldness of cinematography has influenced an army of future cameramen and directors but the meaning of those images shouldn’t be overstated. They are the equivalent of Hollywood explosions – empty images produced to excite the senses.

Neither "Citizen Kane," nor "Confessions" have the vital element of great films: the “irrelevant” moment of poetry. Those moments that don’t add anything to the story but are VITAL elements without which the story would simply be a story and nothing else. Incidentally those “irrelevant” moment of life so necessary to be inserted into powerful film need to be fully conscious on the part of the filmmaker.

In “Three Colors: Blue” there are shots of extreme irrelevance. A woman contemplating life stares as cube of sugar soaks up the coffee, or how the inverter teaspoon bounces inside the coffee cup. Those moments do not add anything tangible to the story but yet those are the elements that exactly portray the unspoken – the pain and feeling of loss in heart of someone who’s lost their whole family in a car accident and thus has nothing worthwhile to live for. No amount of dialogue or acting can express the pain and solitude that those few “simple” shots have expressed. Specifically because the director understood that, he let his cinematographer shoot those moments in extreme close-ups – this is the form – he didn’t simply shoot a shot a of woman in sorrow sitting in a cafe staring at her coffee cup – he found a visual representation that build that state of mind.

Those moments don’t simply happen but are a direct result of the filmmaker’s visions. Anyone can direct a properly shot scene with proper coverage but only a few people who have taken their time to fully understand what a given scene is ACTUALLY about can add nuances (often from their personal life repertoire) that give life to the scene. Ultimately it’s those nuances that make the film.