The tong hackman is a little orange-blonde tattooed biker, most often dressed in a pair of black shorts, sandals that match his hair, and nothing else. He picks up a girl who has split with her motorcycle-riding boyfriend and becomes the Poutiest Girl in the World. They shack up on his father's land in a one-bed structure covered with a clear plastic tarp. She throws tantrums and torments him. There is a lot of drinking, smoking, fishing and cell phoning. He attacks his business with methodical professionalism, hacking and beating those who can't pay their debts to his boss. A gang of others arrive with machetes to take their revenge. Things get hot, and the boss tells him to get out of town to Guangzhou and hide out for a while. But what about the girl?
That's a basically accurate plot description of Yang Heng's "Sun Spots," a striking Chinese film that received its world premiere here at the Vancouver International Film Festival. But now let me come at it from another direction entirely....
"Sun Spots" consists of 31 static shots, nearly all of them full shots or long shots, deep-focus exteriors in which the often spectacular view stretches far into the distance. Roads, rivers, bridges, paths run through them. Because the camera does not move and all the scenes play out in full-figure tableaux, the compositions are not re-composed (into medium shots, reversals, close-ups, etc.), as they often are in films where the blocking of the camera and the actors is more intricate. The suspense of watching the film comes not so much from what will "happen" next as what other elements will enter or exit the frame on the aforementioned paths that extend offscreen, and how the shot will end. Neither of the main characters speaks. Indeed, all the film's dialog could probably fit onto a single Twitter page.
As David Bordwell (with whom I saw the movie) writes: "We have been here before. After twenty years of masterpieces by Hou, Kore-eda ("Maboroshi"), and Jia Zhangke ("Platform"), this style [of Asian minimalism] risks mannerism." And yet, in crystalline focus on a big screen, the film is a mesmerizing. I was feeling a little sleepy during the previous picture, Kore-eda Hirokazu's alternately saccharine and disturbing "Air Doll," but I was rapt throughout "Sun Spots," as though I never even blinked. Even when your mind drifts, watching a man crouching and smoking beside a river, there's so much to notice. Like: When did that bundle of sticks float into the frame? Will he notice it, too? What will he do when he does?
Sometimes, as in the shot I've just described, there's an unexpected payoff. Other times, the shot just ends inconclusively -- or seems to, until the consequences of something that happened in or out of the frame (or between shots) are referenced in the next one. You begin to detect patterns -- lines of communication (roads, phones, eye contact) that the characters use or don't use, that allow them to connect or prevent them from connecting....
What is the film "about"? (It's about 112 minutes, that's what!) Perhaps it's about the vastness of the landscape and the smallness of the humans inhabiting it. Perhaps it's about watching -- and watching movies, how we put "stories" together shot by shot, piece by piece. In a chronological narrative one image prepares us for the next, which elaborates on the previous image, and so on. By slowing the process way down, we become acutely conscious of how the film does that, and how we participate by asking questions, anticipating events, drawing connections, reading body language...
* * * *
¹ If you include the titles as the second shot, it's 32. David Bordwell estimates that the Average Shot Length of "Sun Spots" is roughly 3.5 minutes, or about 205 seconds (the final shot is around nine minutes). For perspective: The average number of shots in contemporary American movies is about 1,000-1,200, with an ASL of somewhere between 3 and 6 seconds. (It varies by genre, of course. Action films tend to have more, and shorter, shots overall.) DB also reports that among the films with longer ASLs he has seen this year are "Inglourious Basterds" (roughly 6 seconds) and "Goodbye Solo" (roughly 12.5).
The article above makes Sun Spots sound intriguing and I hope I'll get the opportunity to see it soon. Until I do though, a few general questions: I'm wondering why in terms of shot length, there seems to be an uneven distribution of criticism at the extremes. There are certainly fans of the Paul Greengrass school of film editing but there are also plenty of critics. I think there are valid arguments against the style of microshots such as confusing geography and spatial relationships. I also think the philosophy that a director ought to let the audience see the movie is also true. To me though, it just seems logical that there ought to be issues with an approach at the opposite end of the spectrum. I realize for example that Tarkovsky is widely considered as a brilliant filmmaker. I mostly agree, however calling the length of some of his shots excessive is in my opinion a fair criticism. Tarkovsky proponents often respond that his long shot length is a consciouss, artistic decision. The same consideration seems to rarely extend to directors like Greengrass. My point isn't to compare the Bourne movies to films like Solaris. I just wonder if sometimes long shots are valued for the sake of being long shots. Could the same things in Sun Spots that were said in 112 minutes be said in 92 minutes?
JE: Good point. I think there are a number of things to consider here. DB observes that there is a trend in international "art cinema" (particularly in Asia) toward long takes, just as the trend in commercial movies has been toward shorter, "snatch and grab" shots. Perhaps one is a response to the other, or perhaps these developments are occurring independently. Is every second of every shot in "Sun Spots" necessary? Again, it depends on how you define "necessary." A movie with an adagio tempo like this one requires that you slow down your movie-watching metabolism to synch up with it. It's funny to think of somebody coming out of "Sun Spots" saying: "It could lose about 15 minutes!" But I can imagine that, too. Contemplative films like this one are entirely different experiences than, say, action films that are designed to keep the story hurtling along at highway speeds. I'd say each has its place, and individual films and artists who employ these techniques more effectively and imaginatively than others. Example: Henry Jaglom has been known to inflict upon us long takes of improvisation by desperately flailing actors -- so that, in the name of "spontaneity," the scene becomes about the struggle of the poor abandoned performers to get through the scene rather than anything their ostensible characters might be saying or feeling. That, I would argue, is not an effective use of the long take.
In response to Nick, I would say that for me, movies are about becoming absorbed in an alternate time and space. A long take allows the viewer to fasten onto the image (or the specific time and space being portrayed) without being kicked out of it. I'm not saying that all short shots do this. It's all about how the particular moment in the movie is executed and what it's trying to accomplish. I wouldn't say (even though I have no way of knowing) that the use of long shots in Asian cinema is reactionary. I just see it as a common tendency in Asia that shows a strong love and understanding of the core appeal of movies. In a great or good film, extremely long takes are usually used for specific effects. Cache instantly comes to mind, particularly the final two shots. Both of these shots are very long, but their length is actually explained in the plot. The second to last shot (looking out of a barn house, if I remember correctly) is shot from the exact same angle as an earlier scene at that location. Furthermore, the opening of The Tenant is almost always in motion, spinning in circles, always providing our eyes with new information. In this case, it could be possible to completely forget how long the shot is, while being distracted by all the sites that are provided.
'Sun Spots' sounds like an exciting film, can't wait to see it. I think you are correct in saying that "this style [of Asian minimalism] risks mannerism". A lot of this "Asian minimalism" (a particular fringe) is applied in dubious ways and have created some of the most hollow Chinese films I have seen in a while (i.e. Tian ZZ's 'The Go Master', and some assorted pseudo-depth recent HK films).
The key, I suppose as in Tarkovsky, is to have something to say (at root). The expression of this then flows quite naturally. The drama is meant to unfold at a distance from the viewer, but this makes sense only if the filmmakers are reassured of the viewers' sensitivity to the drama; it must be something that that viewer can be concerned about.
The maturation of Chinese cinema (5th to 6th generation [the 5th which I think is already "dying out" artistically]) is not merely a movement towards contemporary film making, but also a movement towards contemporary issues of concern. The gradual liberalization or relaxation of "what can be said" about modern Chinese society enables films like 'Sun Spots' to be made. From your brief description, it does not sound like the most sanitary of subjects.
Another interesting film recently from China (well ... 2006) is Jia Zhangke's 'Still Life'. Nothing is forced, it all just seeps in.
p.s. The screen grab in your post somehow reminds me of scenes from Malick's 'Badlands' (substituting the motorcycle for a car).
Woops mistake. I agree with Bordwell (not you)!
It is also disappointing to find that the chinese name of Sun Spots is only given on the VIFF webpage as 'Guangban'. Since this leads to irrelevant search results on google, it would be nice to have the film's name in Chinese characters.
JE: That's OK. I agree with Bordwell, too -- that's why I quoted him!
Here are some interesting quotes from critics such as David Bordwell, Jonathan Rosenbaum, Scott Foundas, and Susan Doll from an appropriate and illuminating, albeit interminable, group-conversation about the nature of Bela Tarr's films, which, like the films of Hou, Ozu, Mizoguchi, Antonioni, Tarkovsky, Ackerman, Jansco, and Kor-Eda, seem to have a patient, observant, and refelctive style divergent from the fast-paced, and relatively spatially and geograpahically less concerned films of Eisenstein, Vertov, Michael Bay, Darren Aronofsky, the Ridley bros., Guy Ritchie, Fernando Meirelles, Peter Greengrass, and Park Chan-wook.
DB (David Bordwell) :: 'It seems there was a tradition of Hungarian cinema of the sixties that is really dominated by a couple filmmakers, like Szabo and Kovacs but particularly Miklos Jansco. Jansco is making some very experimental films in terms of long takes, with complicated very intricate camera movements and so on, and he has the same kind of career arc [as Bela Tarr]. In Tarr's case, you can see in teh films after "Almanac of the Fall" that he seems to be pushing this idea of *how long can I sustain a shot, how complexly can I mount that shot, how intricate can my characterizations and psychology be within this overall confines of a long take.*'
SD (Susan Doll) :: 'Whenever I think of Bela Tarr, my shorthand for remembering the gist of his style is "faces and places," like when he said to David Bordwell, "The face is the landscape." I've also read critics who have said that his landscapes are like characters, so we have the faces being places, and the places being faces. Can you expand upon that? Either his use of characters and the unique look of the actors--the way he emphasizes them and their presence--or comment on his use of locations.
SF (Scott Foundas) :: I think it's related to the duration of the shots and the use of the camera, because you rarely ever feel in one of his films, particularly in one of these later films, that the movement of the camera or the length of the shot is being dictated by anything other than the characters and the physical presences on the screen. The camera is moving with them, is dancing with them, not just when it's a dancing scene. He is really sort of immersing you in this world, and everything feels very organic and nothing is done to show off, or is a kind of style trick. It really is like your've living in these spaces. You have time to really become immersed in those physical spaces, and there are other filmmakers who have experimented with length and space this way. Especially when I was watching Werckmeister Harmonies today, I was thinking of the films of Chantal Akerman. The long scenes in "Jeanne Dielman" of peeling potatoes until you are claustrophobically immersed in that basement apartment. You have time to notice things, it's a kind of metabolism. I don't feel like these films are slow or fast, or too long or too short. When you are watching them, you connect with that rhythm, and that's part of this idea; that you notice things about spaces and landscapes that you don't in a movie that has a kind of agenda, that's separate from what it should be in terms of speed and cutting.'
JR (Jonathan Rosenbaum) :: 'There is a very important moral or ethical dimension to thel ong takes of faces, or even landscapes, because it's about being implicated in what you are watching. There are a lot of ways this happens. I think the point is that all of the characters in Satantango certainly are vile individuals, terrible people, but you become complicit with them by being with them for so long... I think that's what he, [Bela Tarr], wants in some ways. He wants you to feel like whoever is on the screen is you or is us, and therefore, what does that mean? It's interesting that the very first shot of his newest film is one of hte longest shots he's ever done, and it's a point of view shot. It is what the leading character is seeing from a tower, and you don't know that till the very end. You're just seeing this tiny, tiny slow camera movement that is moving up and around and across this tower. I think the idea of being implicated in what the people are doing and seeing and so on is very important.
' Part of what is so fascinating about those shots is yes, you are distanced, you have plenty of time to think about what you're watching, which is very important. Most movies don't give you any time to think; Tarr's movies give you lots of time to think and pleasurable ways to think... The idea of implication happens for me because of this.
' The very fact that you give this much of your time to a film, gives you an investment in a certain way, and the investment for me gets translated into the idea of being implicated. That doesn't mean taht you aren't distanced because during those long takes, you ahve plenty of time to feel both complicit and to be thinking about whatever it is that you're thinking about."
DB :: 'Also the way he stages the takes... I think it's really very prominent in the beginning of Damnation, where you get this spectacular landscape, and when the camera pulls back, we see our protagonist from the rear in silhouette. THis is a common device he uses. And, when he wants to show you someone looking at something, they turn from us, and we don't see their face. [
SF :: 'But I would argue that that's what makes you complicit. The shooting of the actors from behind and the constant movement through space make the films very voyeuristic for the audience.'
JR :: 'You could also see that there is a weird triangulation going on. The camera movements ar not in sync with the narrative. It's like a fugue: There's the camera movement and then there's teh narrative, and then there's a third thing, which is the trajectory of your mind, the thoughts and meditations you ahve on all of this. And it seems to be that all three have an equal weight... So when I'm talking about moral implication, that is only one thing. But, it does seem to me that when you are thinking about why you're spending so much time with these people, the idea of a moral implication will eventually present itself in one form or another.'
DB :: 'There is also a fascination with textures--the way rain creates patterns in the mud. And, I think this goes for faces too, like in the early films where the faces themselves have textures. It seems to me that links him to the minimalist tradition you're talking about because when we're watching the title character "Jeanne Dielman" do what she does, like peeling potatoes, its about the way she scrapes the knife against the potato. I think when you get a minimalist style like this you are supposed to downshift to a degree and start to notice things that usually go right by you, like the spider webs and the bottles catching the light a certain way.
'Tarr says those are stories as far as he's concerned. In interviews, he says those are stories as much what happens to the characters. But was with Tarkovsky, who is great on details like liquids and milky kinds of substances, once you've downshifted your attention, the world the cahracters live in and the landscapes become terribly tangible. I think that's another thing that justifies the length of the take... if you shift down from the human scale a bit, there is a whole world to see, and the way it pays off the human action can be suggestive.'
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(CONT'D)
SD :: ' About the longtake... what is cinematic about the long take? A lot of directors, I'm thinking particularly about the Soviet filmmakers of the 1920s, have said that the art of films is in editing. In Tarr's films we have the opposite of that. We have a different approach to filmmaking and editing because of the heavy use of the longtake. So what is cinematic about the longtake? How would you argue with those whos ay it's less cinematic because there is less editing?
DB :: 'Well the argument the Soviets made, and it was interesting in their historical context, was to say taht the problem with long takes... is that you can't direct the audience's attention efficiently enough. The classic example is the film theories of Lev Kuleshov. FOr example, a man is goin to commit suicide at his desk. We see him open the drawer, then we see him pull out the pistol [and we are supposed to infer he has shot himself because of the shots we have just seen]. But [if it were done in a long take], the person who is watching the film could s tudy the pattern on the wallpaper or the bird in teh birdcage [instead of focusing on the action]. Kuleshov used this argument as a justification for why American films were better than contemporary Russian films of the late teens and early twenties. In an American film, you would see the man in a medium shot so you could see his facial expression, then there would be a cut to a close-up of his hand opening the drawer, then a shot of the gun, then he reaches in... the audience is riveted to the screen. Editing makes sure you are following the action in a precise way.
'It's fascianting to think that the revival of the long take, and waht we might call festival cinema or art cinema, goes along with the accelerations of editing in Hollywood cinema. Since the fifties, sixties, seventies,--particularly from the sixties one--editing in Hollywood cinema has become incredibly fast [culminating in something like "WAR," starring Jason Statham and Jet Li].
'But at the same time you have the Bela Tarrs of this world and the Hou Hsiao-Hsiens of this world, and so on. It's almost as if filmmakers in other kinds of filmmaking contexts have registered this desire to rivet the attention of the audience, to seize the audience...[by] aiming for a contemplative cinema. We want a cinema that puts the brakes on, slows things down. What we have to start doing if we want to study film history and the aesthetics of film history is to look at how different filmmakers are taking this other path towards longer takes, more complex camera movements, and complex staging--those kinds of things that are really just as cinematic because they are also on the screen and they are also apart of the cinema, but they relate to films in different ways.'
JR :: '....You can also see long takes as a kind of editing because the point is that Tarr is choreographing all these events, and they are all in a particular order....so there is an itinerary just as much as if you ware juxtaposing one shot with another.
'And,....there is a very important way in which off-screen sounds sometimes become very important. That can be seen as a kind of editing. Or montage, at least to think of it in Eisensteinian terms... '
SF :: ' When you say long take, there is a range of htings from Andy Worhol filming the Empire State Building for six hours to somebody like Tarr or Theo Angelopolous wehre the way the shot is choreographed is constantly directing your attention. In "Werckmeister Harmonies" there are sceneswehre the camera is always hitting these precise marks, where someone is coming in the room says a line and then it moves to a two shot. There are some long-take directors that are very fixed, and everything is coming in and out of the frame, and you really have a lot of freedom to look at what you want to look at. But, I think that Tarr is much more actively directing your attention within those shots because of his elaborate choreography compared to the more tableau style of some long-take directors, like Ozu for example.
SD :: 'is this current Tarr-like fascination with long takes a European sensibility, and is that really a slap in the face to current American or Hollywood films with their out-of-control hyperkinetic editing? The average Hollywood film these days has 1100 shots per 100 minutes whereas "Werckmeister Harmonies" had 39 shots all together in 145 minutes. Is this a reaction on the part of these European filmmakers to Hollywood's fascination with hyperkinetic editing, a technique taht excites the audience but doesn't always benefit the narrative?'
JR :: 'Maybe the distinction should be made with people whose model of viewing is television versus people who view films in theaters, because it seems to me taht Hollywood directors like Brian De Palma have also used really long takes. It's almost this macho thing; I can do a longer take than you can. There is a whole tradition in American cinema in terms of long takes.
But the sense of bombarding us with fast editing reminds me more of what you get in TV commercials.'
There is a lot more but sadly my fingers are tired.
Now, if you want to read the rest I'm certain a link can be provided by a google search of "Talking About Tarr: A Symposium at Facets," which is what I was copying from.
I think that Bela Tarr is one of the most important names in the cinema today and his films, as well as those of Alexander Sokurov, Abbas Kairostami, Hou Hsien and Theo Angelopolous, should be studied more in terms of how they shoot their films. Just as well, I wish that more films would dissolve the historically-persistent fascination with narrative in film... narrative, narrative! Sadly, it's almost all we've got.
I love the suspension of narrative that Tarr and other filmmakers invest in. And I think that is becaus I perceive the cinema as being comprised of conscious aesthetics of images in motion and although I love to hear and see great stories I think I'd have to side with Bela Tarr and other filmmakers like Robert Bresson in terms of what the capable of getting the motion going in the cinema. Film, for me, has something that far exceeds the parameter of the conventional novel, which is a far less universal a form of communication.
@Cory- Thank you for posting that. Very thought-provoking discussion. The Soviet take on long shots was particularly interesting.
As someone else once said: No good film is ever too long.
I look forward to this one.