Woody Allen's "Another Woman" (1988) begins with a shot that is the whole movie in miniature. As followers of the Opening Shots Project know, that's one of my favorite approaches, and I think "Another Woman" is one of Allen's best movies.
A woman (Marion Post, played by Gena Rowlands) appears at the far end of a dark hallway and strides toward the camera, passing in and out of light. She is wearing a long coat, and she puts a scarf around her shoulders as she walks. She's a woman who knows where she's going. We don't get a good look at her until she moves into medium close-up, adjusts an earring and comes face to face with herself in the mirror. (Bergman reference intentional.) Her reflection is obscured from our point of view, but for a moment we see her look directly into her own eyes.
Marion, who has recently turned 50, thinks she knows herself and what kind of life she has led. But what she encounters when she steps out the door will overturn her establish notions of who she is and what she has done with her life: her memories of the past, her marriages, her lovers, her friendships, her relationships with her own family... Everything she though was solid and certain is swept out from under her feet and she goes into free-fall. With wit and insight, the movie details her unexpected investigation into what she's made of herself. And as the illusions crumble around her, she notices her mother's tear stains on the last line of a favorite poem, Rainer Maria Rilke's "Archaic Torso of Apollo," which reads: "... for here there is no place that does not see you. You must change your life."
The opening shot is accompanied by Marion's voiceover, placing us inside her head from the start: "If someone had asked me when I reached my fifties to assess my life, I would have said that I had achieved a decent measure of fulfillment both personally and professionally. Beyond that, I would say, I don't choose to delve. Not that I was afraid of uncovering some dark side of my character. [Cut to straight-on close-up -- more or less from the mirror's point of view.] But I always feel that if something seems to be working, leave it alone." The movie is the journey from there to the final image in which, adjusting to a new understanding of herself, she is no longer in motion, but seen in a moment of reflection with just the hint of a wistful smile on her lips: "... and I wondered if a memory is something you have or something you've lost."
(The film's language is quite stylized -- deliberately stilted, but also playful in the ways it reveals the characters while subtly undermining their seriousness. It's almost like a psychology department academese via Mamet.)
Allen is known for building time into his production schedules for extensive re-shoots. (The film before this one, 1987's "September" was entirely re-shot and partially re-cast after Allen didn't like.) Because his films are so modestly budgeted, he can usually afford to work this way. The opening of "Another Woman" is so note-perfect, however, that I was surprised to learn that the writer-director couldn't decide how to start it. According to an article at the Turner Classic Movies web site, which quotes interviews with producer Robert Greenhut and production manager Joe Hartwich in Julian Fox's book, "Woody: Movies From Manhattan":
Allen also changed his mind several times about the film's opening. At one point he wanted a tracking shot to follow Marion walking down the street carrying groceries for her new apartment. After crews spent two hours setting up track for the camera shot, Allen changed his mind. Instead of the outdoor shot, the film opens with Marion in her apartment.
Well, he found the right solution. "Another Woman" begins as it has to. The image feels... inevitable.
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Thanks for this! Allen is one of my favorites, and I agree that this is one of his best. Sad to see him so self-deprecating in the media, saying things like he's never made a good film, or his films won't be remembered - even if it is just part of his persona. Films like this (not to mention Annie Hall, Husbands and Wives, Crimes and Misdemeanors and too many of his other films to count) prove him wrong, at least in my mind. Now if only he could find that spark in some of his more recent releases.
Thank you for highlighting Another Woman.
It has become fashionable for quite some time to simply bash Woody Allen without any concern as to whether his films are worthwhile or not. I'm not going to argue the value of Curse Of The Jade Scorpion or Melinda And Melinda, but boy you got it right with Another Woman.
The middle part of another unofficial Allen trilogy starting with September and ending with Crime And Misdemeanors, Another Woman deserves note for doing something few films then and especially now even attempt. It tries to show us the interior life of a middle aged (or older) person.
Who cares about that you ask? Well, you should only live so long! Some people can only succeed by being "young" all the time; this is not an achievement and bespeaks of a severe cognitive dissonance. Why on earth would you put your faith in a person who eschews such obvious reality as getting old?
Such thoughts don't occur to you after watching a Spielberg film, even one of his so-called thoughtful ones. I was in my late twenties when I saw Another Woman and I still remember it vividly.
The performance by Gena Rowlands is worth the price of admission alone, but toss in Blythe Danner, Gene Hackman, Mia Farrow, Ian Holm, Betty Buckley, Harris Yulin, John Houseman, Martha Plimpton and Sandy Dennis and the film is worth watching just for a master class in film acting.
Considering a film critically by looking at its opening shot is no more weird than applying any other specific criteria and I do enjoy reading your comments no matter what they are on, but many times “Opening Shots” are settled upon affairs frequently shot by the second unit director so their import is debatable.
How about looking at the thirty-fourth shot of each film? What would that inquiry yield?
At the top right of this page: "Young man, let me explain something to you: Every shot in a picture is the most important shot in a picture." -- Ernst Lubitsch. I don't think Mr. Emerson is experiencing, to borrow a term you used, "cogntive dissonance" in dedicating a series of blogs to the opening shots of films. But the ontology of film--so multifaceted: never just causal-centric or purely a matter of narrative, but that and the form that appropriates the narrative proper; not to mention the limitless possibilities in the realm of associative logic that film is good for--is best critically analyzed from the perspective of medium specificity. Film is very much a medium of expression and, common to all types of human expression, order and syntax not only strengthen the message but are inextricable from it. The first shot of a film is very much like that opening paragraph in an essay: it's a thesis statement. Consider the first thing Jim says about "Another Woman" -- "[It] begins with a shot that is the whole movie in miniature." And, thusly, the thirty-fourth shot you inquired about would have to be inextricably interconnected with that first and opening shot--and for that matter the last and closing shot.
Michael writes: ... but many times “Opening Shots” are settled upon affairs frequently shot by the second unit director so their import is debatable.
That may well be the case, especially in films that open with a montage sequence ("Dog Day Afternoon" and "Manhattan" come to mind), and those aren't usually the kinds of opening shots we've discussed in the Opening Shot Project. BUT, that's not to say that something shot by the second unit couldn't have an absolutely vital role in setting up the film -- if only because it has been chosen as the first image. The whole point of the project is to find and describe interesting shots and interpret how they function as beginnings. Eventually, somebody (could be the screenwriter, the director, the editor, or some combination thereof) made the very important decision to place a certain shot at the start of the film -- the first image that will be presented to the audience. That's a serious choice. First impressions do count for something!
I enjoy the overt stageyness of the film and the shot above. I remember another where Marion and her stepdaughter are talking on the sidewalk and facing the camera and it might as well be a play. The arch-ness of it all lends the film a unique quality. I felt like I could "see" the actors, but since they're playing characters so perfectly matched to their mannerisms and dealing with issues relevant to their ages it made the film as a whole feel more honest, more personal, rather than phony. Does that make sense? A lot of Woody Allen movies feel this way to me ("Alice," "Whatever Works").
Another Woman is one of my favourites as well. Gene Hackman is perfectly utilized ("I wrote of you very beautifully"). But what do you think Marion is thinking in that last shot? That she has a passion she didn't know about? Something we're not supposed to know, like the whisper in "Lost in Translation"? I'd like to hear some ideas.
Jim -
Thanks so much for this. "Another Woman" has long been one of those films where I never cared how overlooked it has been - it's been a very treasured, personally loved film for me. It's amazing how unpretentious it manages to be, despite the implications of the subject material.
"The film's language is quite stylized -- deliberately stilted, but also playful in the ways it reveals the characters while subtly undermining their seriousness."
Perhaps the dialogue would sound less stilted in its original Swedish.
I certainly recognize Woody Allen as a considerable talent, but this film looks and feels like 2nd rate Bergman. He even got Sven Nykvist to shoot it fer chrissake. The only thing missing was a character namd Johan.
It's very difficult, if not impossible, to discuss this film as a stand alone work. We're essentially deconstructing a xerox of another filmmaker's style and content.
I haven't seen every Bergman film but I've seen a lot of them and they're usually about failure to connect, solipsism as an innate human trait, etc, and although Allen has spent his time on that, I don't think Another Woman - certainly one of Allen's most hopeful dramas - is an example...the whole premise of the movie is that Marion hears her deepest thoughts and feelings coming out of Another Woman. I think you're thinking of Wild Strawberries when you say this movie is a xerox of Bergman's content, and yes that movie was about a man looking back on his life in a new light, but he was much older than Marion and he was punished with regret whereas Marion seems to me to be looking forward in that final shot.
As for your accusing Allen of aping Bergman's style, I think this movie's colour scheme is similar to Autumn Sonata's, but beyond that - and beyond Nykvist - it would take a lot more time to compare shot compositions, editing, etc, than I have right now. But I don't think Another Woman is any more or less a stand alone work than any other movie by any other director who's been influenced by another.
Opening Shots is one of my favorite features on this blog. The concept itself is beautiful and you always do a bang-up job. The greatest hits of Opening Shots would make an amazing art book.
I think I love ANOTHER WOMAN about as much as you do. The connection of the stylized dialogue to someone like Mamet is right on.
For me, a big part of what keeps it from devolving into mere Bergman pastiche (arguably like SEPTEMBER or INTERIORS) is the casting of Gena Rowlands, who isn't the first actress you expect to see in a Woody Allen film.
This only makes me sad that none of the great early Allen films are on Blu-ray. Here's hoping that Criterion's burgeoning relationship with MGM results in a boxset or that Fox at least gets its act together and starts putting them out.
I think "Another Woman" is one of Allen's best movies.
Amen. I'd like to join the chorus here in thanking you for highlighting this one, Jim. Just watched it again about three weeks ago with my wife (both of us well into, and passing, midlife) and even though I'd seen it twice before was never as moved as I was this time. The formal drama and its conventions exist only in the classic drama of the stage so this film feels like a breath of fresh air in its stagy formalities. What a beautiful film.
I'd love to do an opening shot write-up at some point but I have so many favorites it would be difficult to decide which one to do.
Mr. Emerson,
Obviously, in some films the opening shot is there for a specific point. And yes there are films whose first shot is just the beginning of a montage that is important too.
Many, many films, some of them even great classics simply begin with the logo of the film company that produced them. Some begin with quotes from literature. Some with notes of music.
I know people who firmly believe that the quality of an opening title sequence is the best way to determine if the film is any good or not. It is safe to say that most films rarely open with just a single visual shot but usually employ some form of audio component as well as text.
The placement and font choice of the titles is very important also.
It is not knocking the Opening Shots project to simply observe that it is just one way to peer into the mysteries of the art form we call film.
I suppose my reluctance to agreeing with the Opening Shot theory totally comes from an argument I had with someone way back in the early 1980s when they told me that the opening shot of Death In Venice was smoke and then went on to rail about how the smoke seen then told you all about the film.
I pointed out (although my memory could be faulty now) that the opening shot from Death In Venice began with smoke but then pulled out to reveal an entire ship sailing in the sea.
The opening shot was not smoke, it was a shot beginning with smoke and ending with a long shot of a ship. I could not get this man to grasp that and his invective and anger towards me for disagreeing with him pollutes my thoughts to this day.
Oh well, keep writing Jim, like I said, I love your stuff and I read it all the time.
Thanks, Michael. I was simply addressing your comment about the second unit. Certainly nobody would say you can judge a whole movie by its opening shot (though sometimes it may indicate what you're in for). That's why I always insist that the analysis of it consider 1) the shot as a whole (that is, what happens during it -- not just the first few frames); and 2) how, in retrospect, it works with the film as a whole. I don't remember enough specifics about the opening of "Death in Venice." I'll have to take another look at the film sometime...
Cory,
What, just because Lubitsch said it don't make it right. Lubitsch was a director, what would you expect him to say?
"Every shot is the most important in the picture" is one of those meaningless statements that sounds like it's important, but collapses to mush upon reflection.
Ever hear of the Kuleshov Effect? That pretty much blows Lubitsch out of the water. Got to hand it to the Russians and their perfection of the montage technique.
And before you get angry, I happen to love Ernst Lubitsch. Ninotchka and To Be Or Not To Be are two of my favorite films of all time.
Won't get mad. Promise. But, in defense of my appropriation of the Lubitsch quote--not intended to be a salient name drop--, (quality) movies are comprised of tightly interconnected images that ligate or, maybe a better term, unify as a gestalt for the cognitive audience so that they can make sense of it: whether, as I offered before, in the realm of causal logic (films present scenarios that comprise narratives catalyzed by events and character actions) or in the, almost always viable, realm of associative logic (aleatory, juxtaposition-without-copula cinema being the intransigent exception to this: e.g., the films of Stan Brakhage).
I'm not certain that the "Kuleshove Effect" necessarily discredits what Lubitsch says, because, in fact, it is, again, the audience's perception of the interconnectedness of shots that makes such an effect possible.
Alas, this may still be up for debate. What points do you have to buttress your opinion that Lubitch's statement is merely a hollow, grandiloquent token to some dude?--that is, if you agree with me now that even the "Kuleshov Effect" is congruent with what Lubitsch says. (?)
But there are two kind of shots: shots that are framed and lit in a unique way that make you think about them as shots, like a Fuller-esque tight close-up, and shots that present something to you without commenting on it, like an establishing shot of a house. I would say most movies, except maybe those by the most precise directors, consist of both kinds of shots, the opening shot is usually the second kind, and to me it seems the framing and camera placement of the second kind of shot isn't so important.
I don't know if shots can be so simply and so generally categorized. Just as well, I don't think that reflexive shots (those shots "that are framed and lit in a unique way that makes you think about them as shots") are necessarily more important than simple establishing shots. And I definitely disagree with you that framing and camera placement of this "second" ilk of shots "is not so important." In fact, I would say that in most cases establishing shots should be me the most precisely framed and subject-distanced of shots.
You're right. I thought immediately after I wrote that that what I said was stupid.
Cory,
The only thing I can offer from the top of my head are the kind of extraneous shots I see all the time in films and TV.
In many films (comedies especially), shots will be held for way too long, or there will be a very slow transition to account for (hopefully) audience laughter. Wonderful when the jokes are funny, deadly when they are not.
Then there are the many useless and often annoying cut-aways, noddies and buffer shots put into the picture not to unify the "gestalt for the cognitive audience" but to simply camouflage mistakes made by the director and cinematographer.
Frequently it is the editor who actually saves the film and makes it watchable, but we all know that.
Film is, and always has been, way more than simply a "visual medium". You want a visual medium, stick to painting.
To look at film as solely a visual medium is to miss the point of cinema entirely. A better quote for Mr. Emerson’s blog to have would be from Sergio Leone where he says that at least 40% of a movie should be sound.
And there are very few film directors more "visual" than Sergio Leone.
We spend a LOT of time talking about sound 'round these parts -- see recent posts on the sound design of Skip Lievsay, Ren Klyce and others. But from what you say here, I think you're misinterpreting the Lubitsch quote. The story goes that Lubitsch said it after someone complained that he was spending too much time on an insert shot. To an artist like Lubitsch, whatever he was working on at the moment was the most important thing -- even if, later, he decided not to use it. It's a statement about artistic concentration that tells you something about Lubitsch, his working methods, and why his films are the way they are. He was not saying that all other directors made films the same way (since he obviously knew they did not -- he became the head of Paramount, after all). Nor was he saying that every shot in every film ever made is of equal importance -- just that he felt that way about his own films.
RE: "extraneous shots I see all the time in films and TV," "shots...held for way too long," "the many useless and often annoying cut-aways," "camouflage mistakes," etc.
It would appear that you are talking about films that fail, that simply don't qualify. I might as well assume, then, that you care about the integrity of form just as much as I do.
RE: "Film is, and always has been, way more than simply a 'visual medium'. You want a visual medium, stick to painting."
I don't believe I said that film was exclusively visual, but that is what we are talking about: the integrity and expressive prowess of shots and editorial design toward uniformity, etc.
Mr. Emerson,
Forgive me. I know that you appreciate the need for carefully thought out sound in films and that makes you a rarity among film critics.
I am still totally amazed whenever I sit down with critics at festivals or roundtables or lectures and even when talking to filmmakers themselves by their often complete lack of knowledge or appreciation for sound and music and how important they are for the success of a film.
Not surprisingly, the worst people are often the cinematographers and the production designers. Blofeld's volcano rocket base in the James Bond film You Only Live Twice certainly looked big, but the echoing sound effects added dimension to the set and the sound effects of all the henchmen running around, not to mention the sound of the rocket itself sold the illusion.
By the way, I think it was John Huston (again my memory may be faulty) who once relayed a story on how a director could keep the studio executives out of their hair via an insert shot,
He said shoot an insert shot of a doorknob or a clock or a coffee pot boiling immediately as soon as you get to the set. This way when the executives arrive, they will see on the production report that the first shot was printed at say 9:15 AM and then they will think you are on schedule and leave you alone.
Andrew -
Frankly, I believe you've made a good case for me here with your examples, though I realize that was not your intent. If you notice the similarity in content, the borrowed look, must we even bother with a shot by shot comparison? It is no accident that he chose Nykvist to shoot the picture or that he built a cinematic relationship with him over time. Allen has called Bergman "the only genius in film" and, in his more serious efforts, has attempted to walk around in Bergman's shoes. It's kinda like Tom Ripley.
Allen worships Bergman in the way that DePalma does Hitchcock. Certainly, they've distinguished themselves as directors, but not when their films pine to be nothing more than approximations. I have trouble watching Another Woman in the same way I do DePalma's Obsession. Not the worst night at the movies, but one gets the feeling there is no there there.
I also pointed out differences in content. Would you at least agree that Another Woman is more hopeful than most of Bergman's work?
There's a lot of anguish in Bergman's work, but I don't necessarily find it hopeless on the whole. Scenes from a Marriage is particularly pained and exhausting but, in the end, quite liberating. Cries and Whispers, on the other hand, is depressing as hell. So, it really depends.
If you found Another Woman to be hopeful, then who am I to argue otherwise. I found it to be a self-conscious, stagy exercise in approximation.
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