My Feels on the Class Films*

*These feels are subject to change, especially since I am a fickle woman.

We have watch several different kinds of films in class.  I liked quite a few of them; pretty sure there was one that I loathed, but I do not know how to rate them on a numbered scale.  I think it would make more sense for me to talk about them in the order we watched them so that I can recollect my reactions upon watching each one.

1. Sherlock Jr. (1924) - this was a fun one.  Not particularly that high on my list, but I did enjoy it.  As far as slapstick comedy goes, it was definitely more enjoyable than Family Guy.

2. Freaks (1932) - this was the first film of this class where I got emotionally invested in what was going on.  It is a crooked, clever sort of horror film; moderately high up on my list.

3. Detour (1945) - this one was a letdown.  I really like film noir, but this particular film was boring and the main character was so whiny.  I think I initially hated the femme fatale character, but looking back, I think I was just annoyed that the film was not as "cool" as I expected, especially since this unit was covered on my birthday.  This is very low on my list.

4. Awara (1951) - I really liked this film.  One of my favorites in the class, this film was pretty to look at, the characters were interesting, the story was overall well developed, and the best part was the music.  I still don't agree that Awara is necessarily a musical, but the songs were nice anyway.  I want the soundtrack.

5. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (1967) - this one was...alright.  Initially, I really liked it, but now that I think about it, I don't like it as much as I did.  I remember it being a lot slower, and while it is a very good Western (a terribly underrated genre), I also remember not focusing on it very well while watching it.  It might just be me, though.

6. Killer of Sheep (1977) - I don't know what to say about this film.  I didn't hate it; it was a strange film, though.  Rating it is difficult because I can't find much else to say about it, so I'll just place it in the corner of my list until it decides to tell me what it wants.

7. Spoorloos (1988) - I have a love/hate relationship with this film.  I want to love it because the premise is so interesting and the characters are very intriguing, but they also bother me, especially the "bad guy" of the movie.  I want to like him, but he irritates me for some unknown reason; maybe it's the way he's written?  This film is the see-saw on my list.

8. My Own Private Idaho (1991) - another love/hate relationship, although I know the reason for this one.  I want to like the film for its originality and creativity, but I have seen so many different queer films that this one seems kind of bland in comparison.  Not a bad film; not that low on my list, but I do think there are much better queer films out there.  Here's a short list of better ones (because I happen to love queer cinema):
The Trip (2002)
Wilde (1997)
Bad Education (2002)
Torch Song Trilogy (1988)
Maurice (1987)
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (1997)
NOT David's Birthday (2009; that one is so boring)
Okay, I should stop talking now...

9. O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) - my other favorite from this class.  This film had very nice cinematography, a great cast, and AGAIN with the awesome music!  The atmosphere of the entire movie was breathtaking as well.

10. Wendy and Lucy (2008) - I liked this film.  Just liked it; I was afraid that it was going to turn into one of those "art" films that clearly try too hard, but no.  This movie defied my expectations in a good way.  It's sort of in the middle of the list.

11. Moonrise Kingdom (2012) - I really liked this film, too, mostly because it was a nice, little sort of whimsical escape for me from the fact that we are near finals and I don't feel prepared for any of it.  Yet, this film made me sad; I wish I could just up an leave my home. But no. Priorities.

12. Frances Ha (2012) - I want to like this film.  It is a good movie, but it kind of pissed me off; it was a reminder that we cannot just up and leave our homes and abandon our priorities.  It was a reminder that dreams are almost always compromised.  And this reminder came. Right. Near. Finals.  Thanks, Frances.  Thanks a lot.  This movie is only temporarily low on my list; it'll probably climb up once I start summer vacation.

Moonrise Kingdom: Voyeurism and Bummin' Cigarettes

This is a particular screenshot displays a wide shot of a woman, who is Suzy's mother, on her bike asking for a cigarette from a cop (Bruce Willis) who was smoking one next to his car.  There is a frame around the scenario in the shape of binocular eye-holes, because they are being watched by a little girl, Suzy, who is off-camera, making this a voyeuristic scene.

The two adults are centered in the binocular's frame, but they are far away.  The two adults are sort of close to each other, in how close they are standing/sitting near each other, and with the fact that Suzy's mother is taking a cigarette from the cop that he was already smoking.  Suzy's mother is also turned away slightly from Suzy's view; this is suggestive of some secretive behavior, as if she is trying to be careful not to be seen.  The cop in particular is partially hidden by the front of his car, and the word "Police" on the car is being blocked by a huge bush.  This could be read as a sign that justice is being breached in some way (hint hint).  There is also lighthouse cleverly placed more in the foreground and it is facing Suzy's mother and the cop, which is mimicking Suzy's position from where she is watching them.

Wendy and Lucy: Not Your Average Chick Flick

Wendy and Lucy (2008) is obviously a huge turn away from a typical Hollywood chick flick.  When I say "Hollywood chick flick", I am talking about the kind of film that is supposed to be all about how great it is to be a woman, but 90% of the time, that greatness only applies if you are white, rich and in high school or college, and your only goal in life is to feel pretty and get a hot boyfriend.  Clearly, this is not what Wendy and Lucy focuses on.

While Wendy's plot is very different from a typical Hollywood chick flick, I would like to focus on the technical, or cinematographic differences here, since that is a huge factor in why Wendy actually feels different from a traditional chick flick.

For starters, Wendy is very minimalistic.  Looking at a typical chick flick, say, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, where noise is constantly playing in the background.  Usually, it's a combination of pop music and really loud background noises of cars or busy students walking through high school halls.  Wendy is a relatively quiet movie, and there is (nearly) no musical accompaniment.  Traditional chick flicks are also full of stark colors and have a crisp quality to them, whereas Wendy's images are muted, slightly grainy, and the camera is allowed to go in and out of focus at times.

Camera movement itself is also very restricted in Wendy and Lucy; there are several scenes, especially when Wendy is the only character on screen, where the camera is fixated, and the scenario is left free to move along.  Characters and props move in and out of frame and focus.  Contrast that to the traditional chick flicks, in which the camera is always focused on a character, or the characters are almost always right smack in the middle of the frame.  The camera will also follow characters in order to keep everything related to the context in the frame.

With these qualities, traditional Hollywood chick flicks have a romanticized and "plastic" feel to them.  Wendy and Lucy, on the other hand, is a much calmer, quieter film, which helps it mirror real life.  This isn't to say that romanticized chick flicks are "bad", but it is nice to have a reminder of what life really can be like, especially for young women.

They See Me Yodelin', They Hatin'... All Just Because I'm White and Wealthy

I was sad to see John as a bad guy...he's such a good man...

O Brother, Where Art Thou (2000) is an interesting and witty blend of Ancient Greek literary myth and traditional American folk culture.  The visual symbolism is especially strong; for example, there is a strong relationship between the color white and wealth, with wealth cleverly not being limited to monetary value.

Let's start with the main boys running away from prison.  While resting in the woods, Pete finds that Everett (George Clooney) stole from his cousin.  Even though Pete's cousin betrayed the boys, he gets very upset with Everett anyway.  The camera zooms in and focuses on these two as they start a yelling match while Delmar continuously offers some cooked gopher to them until gospel-like singing slowly creeps into the audio.  Everett hushes Pete as the camera circles around the three convicts and backs away, revealing a flood of church singers dressed in all white, heading towards a river for baptism.  The singing grows louder and clearer.  The camera moves upwards and behind the boys as they merge with the choir until they reach the river.  Here, Delmar and Pete allow themselves to be baptized; both are relieved to have their sins forgiven and are grateful for a "clean slate".  Pete and Delmar have gained hope and spiritual relief, which can be interpreted as a form of wealth.

Later on, the boys meet a wandering guitarist named Tommy, and decide to put together a musical "gig" to round up a few bucks from a radio host.  The camera makes a sort of long crane-shot and slowly pans downward to Everett and friends drivng up a dusty road and parking in front of a powdered-white shed.  The entire exterior of the shed is white, including the roof and door, and the interior is almost equally as pale.  This is the very building that the boys record the one song that ends up a huge hit and gets them pardoned from jail time at the end of the film, as well as making them a lot of money (well, that part is implied, anyway).  They have gained, at this point, a guarantee of monetary wealth (even though this is unknown to them).

Jumping ahead in O Brother, Everett, Delmar and Pete are traveling down a gravel road when they spot women bathing in a nearby stream.  This is where the film has an interesting take on wealth, since the boys begin to lose different forms of wealth.  Anyway, the women themselves are wearing mostly white.  The boys creep up to them into the stream, and Everett and Pete try to introduce themselves.  The women appear to not care as they just keep singing.  The camera makes various cuts to each of the boys as a woman seduces each of them; these cuts, added with the women's lulling song, keep up the hypnotizing mood of this scene, and the audience can see the boys falling completely under their spell.  Cut to Delmar lying down on a huge, flat rock with his limbs spread out, he wakes up confused and afraid.  He sees Everett lying across from him, but there is no Pete; only his clothes remain spread out.  Delmar frantically wakes Everett up, and while the two try to figure out what happened to Pete, they find a toad in his shirt.  Delmar automatically believes that Pete was turned into a toad and brings the amphibian with him while Everett tries to tell him otherwise as they escape the stream.  The boys have lost a friend (presumably) and a sense of hope, while gaining sadness, which can be seen as a negative form of wealth as well.

Everett and Delmar eventually meet Big Dan Teague (John Goodman), who is dressed in mostly white.  The two friends chat with him about Bible sales in a mostly white fine restaurant until Big Dan invites them to eat outside with him in order to discuss business venues some more.  Cut to the boys picnicking out next to a huge tree while Big Dan stands up, takes off his white jacket--a slight premonition that wealth is about to be lost--and breaks a large branch off the tree.  The boys expect that he's going to use this branch for a demonstration, but instead, Big Dan uses it to beat them into the ground and take all their money, killing "Pete" the Toad in the process.  It's pretty obvious what Delmar and Everett have lost here: actual money and a friend.

In a few scenes later, Everett runs into his ex-wife and children in a small shop.  This is where he

Yeah, I made a bad pun! So what? You wanna fight?!

confronts his ex-wife's fiance, Vernon Waldrip, who is conveniently dressed in all white.  He is a symbol of all the wealth that Everett has lost or has lacked: money, family and a loving partnership.  This walking reminder of his failure proceeds to get in a fight with Everett after Everett calls his ex-wife/Waldrip's fiancee a succubus, and Waldrip wins the match with Everett getting thrown out the shop and banned by the owner.

Later on, Delmar and Everett are reunited with Pete, and the three boys stumble upon a KKK gathering, with white robes everywhere.  They are performing some ritual for a lynching, and the boys notice that they have their lost friend Tommy in their clutches.  The camera cuts from a frightened Tommy that gave up on struggling away from the members who have him to a Color Guard member being dragged into some bushes.  The boys emerge from the same bushes dressed as the KKK Color Guard, and proceed to follow the members who are dragging Tommy toward the hanging rope.  They catch up to Tommy, and while they are letting him know that they will rescue him, one of the other KKK members stops walking.  The camera zooms in on him as he turns around, and he lifts his hood to reveal that he is, in fact, Big Dan.  Big Dan calls the boys out and rips their hoods off; the boys are so dirty that in the dim firelight, they look African American.  Everyone freaks out as the head of the mob lifts his hood to reveal himself as a politician who appeared toward the middle of the film.  This scene creates a very powerful criticism about monetary wealth and the kind of people that the majority of it goes to: scam artists and politicians who end up as horrible people. (Don't worry; the four comrades make it out O.K.)

Jump to the very end of the movie, where Everett is seen wearing a stark white shirt; this is the first time he wears a shirt so bright.  He is reunited with his family, is a member of a very successful musical band, and has been given political power.  He has gained all kinds of wealth, and the movie seems to end on a more or less happy note.

If Shakespeare Directed Brokeback Mountain...

My Own Private Idaho (1991) is a New Queer Cinema film that takes a stylized, almost fantastical response to the gay community's persecution and exile from society during the AIDS epidemic.  It has a lot of common tropes with other queer films, such as the abstractly, sensually-shot sex scenes and a hateful or misunderstanding old father.  However, the film introduces these tropes in a somewhat new fashion, a fashion that works...and doesn't work.

One particular scene is when the character Bob "Pigeon" comes back to town and goes back to a house that an elderly woman owns to sleep and do drugs.  Scotty (Keanu Reeves) wakes Bob up, only to have Bob find that he was robbed of his cocaine.  Bob angrily storms out through the halls of the house, yelling at the top of his lungs in a very grandiose and humorous fashion.  The camera takes a few moments here and there to cut to the protagonist, Mikey (River Phoenix), snorting Bob's cocaine.  Bob does not even question Mikey; he instantly blames his assistant and the elderly woman, who hilariously replies off-screen, "Don't worry, Bob, we'll get your coke!"  He then gets caught up in long-winded, Shakespearean couplet exposition about how he used to be a good guy, but after he met Scotty, he became a dirty, old, fat thief who stalks coke lines and gay bars.  During this part, Scotty is responding to his accusations with rhyming couplets as both men are strolling through an unfinished part of the house.  The uncovered wooden beams and floor and bland glass windows help mimic the look of a stage play, complete with incredibly hammy acting.

This scene was interesting for two notable reasons.  The first one is the (likely intentional) comparison between New Queer Cinema and Shakespearean plays.  Both are about grandiose, fantastical analyses of society and often include shots at politics.  They also both explore the idea of "forbidden love" and how the lovers get around those borders.  The other reason this scene peaks the audience's interest is because of the way the Bob "Pigeon" character is portrayed.  Most other queer films, such as The Trip, Maurice, Bad Education and Torch Song Trilogy often want the audience to feel sympathy with the good-looking, usually young men.  But here, the movie tries to play on pathos with the older, fat, sweaty and obnoxious character; this is a character type that is usually the villain and sometimes goes hand-in-hand with the misunderstanding father character.  Bob is here to remind the audience that not all gay men look like Abercrombie and Fitch models.

The only thing that sort of killed this otherwise amusing scene was all the exposition.  It only half-way works because this is a call-back to Shakespearean plays, but it is really annoying since many other scenes beforehand included dialogue and monologues that were nothing but exposition.  Generally, it is better to show the audience what happened rather than have a character just spell it out in paragraphs.

Spoorloos: Horror or Just Suspense?

Spoorloos (1988) has been considered a horror film by many critics, but, similar with Freaks, I'm not so sure I agree with that claim.  While I feel that the third act of the movie definitely falls into the horror category, most of the film comes off more like a drama or suspense film.

The third act of the movie incorporates enough "scary" elements that mirror the horror genre.  I mostly talking about the ending bit where the protagonist, Rex, wakes up to find that he has been buried alive.  This scene calls back to the idea of eternal loneliness, which was what Saskia's biggest fear was.  This scene makes the audience feel uncomfortable as it focuses on Rex screaming for help and trying to pry his way through the coffin or crate, and then, quite out of nowhere, he starts laughing.  But his laughter is an uncertain one; it sounds like he is on the verge of crying, but he does not actually cry.  The audience does not typically know what to do if they were ever in this kind of situation, so the uncomfortable-ness builds up to a sort of fear. Not just for Rex, but for themselves.

The reason I stated that the first two-thirds of the film are not necessarily horror is because these kinds of horror elements are not represented as strongly.  The audience is allowed to observe Rex's fall into mad obsession, but only at snippets at a time, such as the scene where he goes to his computer and Saskia's name shows up all over the screen, replacing the names of his past girlfriends.  Other than that, the movie creates a lot of suspense and drama (especially the scenes with Raymond planning his abduction), but they are not presented as "scary".  These scenes come off more like a character analysis; the audience is put in a position of observation and evaluation.  Fear is not as important here.

Killing Sheep is Difficult

If anything lost me, it was this dog mask...

Killer of Sheep (1979) is an American drama film by Charles Burnett about a man dealing with his jaded working-class life and family.  It is critically praised all across the board and is considered a huge breakthrough in African American film.  It's also a difficult film.

This isn't to say that the film is difficult to understand; I knew what was going on for the most part and I did not get lost very often.  It also is not difficult due gut-twisting scenes of violence and other immoralities; there are virtually none of those (unless the parts in the meat factory count).  It is a difficult film because it is difficult to pay attention to.  Why is that?

I think it has to do with the way the narrative is laid out.  Generally speaking, traditional American story-telling in films (or in any media) is told in a linear sense, with a clear beginning, middle and end, and with a very obvious protagonist, antagonist and conflict of interest.  The audience does not get that kind of story here.

Killer of Sheep's story is told in the fashion of traditional African tribal legends and fables, such as the Igbo people's stories found in the novel Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe.  Often with these types of stories, there is a vague overarching plot with varying subplots.  These subplots are told in an episodic, non-linear fashion, and the point of view often switches from character to character, making identifying a definite protagonist a bit tricky.  The "episodes" don't really end, either; they tend to leave off on open-ended notes, but often are not actually finished.  (This could be so that the next orator can add his or her own sort of "ending", with hopes of continuing an oral narrative chain.)  There is also a heavier emphasis on the characters' actions, as opposed to the traditional American stories, where the emphasis is on the characters' reactions.

Telling the story this way may be the film trying to juxtapose African Americans' livelihoods and their heritage.  It is a neat way of looking at narrative in general, but it may be hard to invest in if it breaks every rule of story-telling that the audience grew up with.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly Showdown

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966) is arguably the most well-known Western film from Hollywood, and with good reason.  The writing, acting and directing is done well enough to keep the audience on the edge of their seats with every duel.  Let's take a look at my personal favorite standoff: the final one (be warned; there will be some spoilers here).

Towards the end of the three-hour-long film, we have a final showdown among the good "Blondie" (the Man with No Name), the ugly Tuco, and the bad Angel Eyes.  They stare each other down in the middle of a dusty graveyard where $200,000 is buried.  The problem is that only Blondie knows which grave the money is buried in.  He takes a rock, writes the name on the bottom with his cigar, and places it in the center of a rocky circle.  This is all done in almost complete silence as the camera cuts back and forth between Blondie walking calmly to the circle and Tuco and Angel Eyes looking at him with hatred and greed.

The music, an ominous reprise of the main theme, starts to play quietly as the trio slowly takes their places around the circle, spreading out and keeping their eyes on each other and the rock with the name.  Tuco is trembling and looks very nervous, Angel Eyes has a grim scowl on his face, and Blondie is calm and confident.  As the trio slows to a stop in three equally spaced-out positions, the music begins to crescendo, and the camera draws closer on each of their faces.  Here is where the suspense starts to really build.  The camera begins with a medium pan shot of all three characters, and then drops to close-ups of each character at a time.  The close-ups grow more intense with the music, and soon the audience is seeing just the characters' eyes and their hands near their guns, with the cuts happening quicker and quicker.  Tuco's hand is trembling a lot, suggesting growing nervousness, Angel Eyes slowly moves his hand across his belt, and Blondie's hand is still as a statue.  This keeps going for quite a few minutes as the audience is left guessing what will happen; it has been clearly established that each of these characters are very quick and very skilled shots, so it is really difficult to know who will shoot first and who will come out of this alive.  Suddenly, the music swells and then...!

Nothing.  The music quickly quiets down and the camera fixates on Angel Eyes' gaze for a moment, still in a close-up.  He then finally decides to draw his gun.  In a speedy second, the camera cuts to a medium shot of Tuco drawing his gun, then to Blondie pulling his trigger, and then to Angel Eyes falling to his death.  This part personally made me jump; the random slow-down of the music and camera tricked me into thinking that nothing would happen and the three would put aside their differences, but then the bullets started flying!

The duel ends with Tuco realizing that his gun was empty as Blondie continues shooting at Angel Eyes' corpse until it conveniently falls into an open grave.  Tuco yells at Blondie for taking his ammo and trying to get him killed.  Blondie just strolls past dust clouds towards the rock, picks it up and reveals that he never wrote the name on there, like a boss.

Awara is a Musical...kind of?

Awara (1951) is a Bollywood film about the son of a rich judge growing up in the slums and turning to a life of crime.  The 2+ hour-long story is told in flashback, with the film beginning during the court scene that resulted from all the drama.

There are several songs in the film, which could lead to the audience classifying it as a musical, but I'm personally on the fence with this topic.  While a musical typically has--what else?--musical numbers that the cast will break out in dance and sing to, the songs are there to provide much more than just cheesy, distracting entertainment.

The songs in a musical are supposed to progress the story along, explaining the situation or how a character feels about said situation.  This is where Awara sort of falls flat.  While the songs do explain the situation or a character's feelings, most of them are sung after the situation or feelings have already been explained through normal dialogue, making the songs seem unnecessary.  In the beginning of the movie, we see the protagonist, Raj, growing up in the slums with his poor, single mother.  He is kicked out of school and is forced to turn to crime in order to provide money for his mother.  This is all shown in detail in very long scenes.  Then, more time progresses and we see Raj as an adult, singing about how he is a tramp and was forced to take up a life of crime.  This song is about something that the audience already spent 30 minutes watching in detail. 

This would not be so distracting if the song took place during the scenes when he was growing up.  Take another musical, for example, The Nightmare Before Christmas.  When Jack Skellington sings about finding Christmas Town, he's singing as he explores the place and its wonders.  This is a lot more effective because it saves time and moves the story along, so the song does not seem pointless.

Awara is a very strong Bollywood narrative with pretty visuals and interesting characters.  While the songs are nice to listen to, I do not think they were all that necessary, or at least, were not used effectively enough.

Detour and the Anti-Hero

Tom Neal: moping as hard as he can for the entire film.

Detour (1945) is a film noir about a guy who gets caught up in a very unfortunate instance: he is the only witness to a mysterious death of another man, and could easily be framed for murdering him.  His solution?  Run away from town to a larger city where no one knows him!  And pick up a feisty, ridiculously bossy femme fatale on the way!

The main character of Detour is undoubtedly an anti-hero, yet he is portrayed in a different way than most modern anti-heroes.  Nowadays, anti-heroes are more glorified in some way; they often have a tragic back-story and yet seem to remain strong through their smart-wit and "total badassery", which is usually what wins over the audience (think of the Dark Knight films, or just Batman in general). 

But here in Detour, the anti-hero is portrayed in a rather pathetic light.  The film really emphasizes the fact that the audience should feel sorry for this character, especially since he was not responsible for the other man's death, and he was technically tricked by Vera (the femme fatale mentioned above) into accidentally killing her.  He is also completely pushed around by her throughout the film.  Seeing a male character pushed around by a female character, especially in the forties and fifties, is a relatively uncommon thing that occurs in film. 

This anti-hero is depicted as meek and helpless, which are traits not normally associated with a "hero", yet also differ from the modern anti-hero.

Is Tod Browning's Freaks a Horror Film?

While Freaks (1932; depicted left) is not anywhere near the same kind of film as Nightmare on Elm Street or Hellraiser, it still qualifies as a horror film.  It is a...different kind of horror.

From what I understood, the intent of the film was to show that "ugliness" and "freakishness" comes from the inside, regardless of one's outer appearance.  This is explicitly shown via the beautiful Cleopatra's mistreatment of the dwarf Hans, who is considered a "freak".

However, the course of the story reveals a different side to that moral.  Bringing in some spoilers, at the end of Freaks, Cleopatra gets mutilated by the "freaks" as an act of revenge, thus becoming one of them.  While that may read to some as, "Her inner monstrosity has shone through," what does that say of the other "freaks"?  Did they really have to act with violence and cruelty?  To me, the ending reads as, "We all have a monster inside us; some just wear the monstrosity like a badge", making the film a pretty cynical one.

For those who have not seen this movie: they are staring at his third arm.

Films like this can also cause the audience to react with "monstrosity"; I caught myself enjoying the fact that Cleopatra "got what was coming to her".  Freaks is similar to films such as The Dark Backward (1991; depicted right) and The Devil's Carnival (2012), in which the audience sympathizes with the underdog protagonist and eventually feel the effects of the negativity that is aimed at said character.  The audience then responds with such intense animosity towards any other characters that are cruel or violent towards the protagonist.  Personally, I think that a film that can bring that kind of attitude out of an audience is definitely "horrifying".  What are your thoughts?

Sherlock Jr. and Visual Stunts and Gags

Sherlock Jr. (1924) is a short film, starring Buster Keaton, about a young man who works at a cinema but is also studying to be a detective.  The initial thing that got me in the introduction of the film was the moral which, in short, was, "Don't try to do two things at once, you won't do either of them any justice."  Story of my life right there.


Sherlock Jr., being a "silent film," relies heavily on visual gags and stunts in order to carry the plot along or tell a joke.  Many of these gags rely on situations that are so ridiculous and exaggerated that the audience cannot believe (in a sense) that they are happening, creating a sort of situational irony. One of these is the scene where Keaton's character is running on top of a moving train, only to jump onto a water pump and accidentally pull it down causing the water to pour out as a massive waterfall onto him.  Firstly, running on top of a train: who would do that?!  The fact that Keaton's character even got himself into such a situation is ridiculous and hilarious in itself.  What makes it funnier is that his escape form the train only resulted in more bad luck: being under a mass of moving water.  It is not that he got wet, however, it is because the water pump seemed painful.

A lot of comedy relies on violence as well, especially in modern day comedies, be them films or television shows or cartoons.  In Sherlock Jr., many of the gag situations also pose a physical, violent threat to the characters, such as the falling axe trap that activates when one sits on the chair below it.  There is something about (mostly non-fatal) physical humor that instantly hits most audiences' funny bones.  I personally think that it is because, as a rule of comedy, something needs to be thrown under the bus, be it literally or metaphorically.

Introduction for Going to the Movies: 20th Century Film

Hello, I'm Janusia Figueiredo.  If my name is too much for you, I also go by "Janee" (it's pronounced like "Johnny", but with a French-like rolled J).  Some people know me, most don't.  Here's what I generally look like:

So gorgeous, I should be a Victoria's Secret model.

I'm a third-year Fine Arts major at DAAP, at the University of Cincinnati.  I currently commute from home and work at Macy's up at the Kenwood mall.  My general interests include anime and manga, Western comics and cartoons, music, video games, and of course...films.

I'd like to think that I have a broad interest in films; the ones I like range from Tim Buton's The Nightmare Before Christmas (which, arguably, is my absolute favorite movie), to Better Off Dead (with John Cusack), to Pedro Almodovar's Women On The Verge Of A Nervous Breakdown.  I have yet to see any "classics" such as Citizen Kane or The Godfather, and I really want to see them.  At least, before I die.

I'm taking the Going to the Movies Spring 2014 class because, even though I like movies, I don't really know much about them.  I want to learn more about camera techniques, visual effects and screenplay writing.  I'm pretty sure I'll get that out of this class.