Matt Damon Rips Sarah Palin

This recent CBS exclusive interview of Matt Damon which caught fire several weeks ago in light of Presidential nominee John McCain’s appointment of Sarah Palin as the Vice Presidential candidate has permanently found its place in American popular culture. Over 2 million people saw this interview on YouTube. The piece works as a standalone short film because of its mass appeal and the candid testimony of a hailed Hollywood celebrity.

The actual content of Damon’s spiel is not the issue of concern. To the average viewer, Damon’s fighting words should be considered of no greater value as compared to the already unreliable voices of the liberal institution of loud-mouth Hollywood which includes the likes of Brad Pitt, Ben Affleck, George Clooney and Angelina Jolie.

But the reality of the culture established by YouTube proves that popularity is often a prerequisite to getting one’s video noticed. Sometimes this notion of popularity is earned by the filmmakers themselves after they have generated a fan base. For instance, the “Leave Britney Alone” girl and the “What’s Next” guy have secured a large fan base and even managed to establish cyber-celebrity status. But Damon is already a brand name. And while he may lack credibility, he is far more interesting than your average Jane Smith voicing her opinion.

The most compelling aspect of the film is that it occurs in one single take. The camera never moves once. For a medium that was established for the purpose of motion pictures, is it feasible to even label Damon’s interview a successful short film? Or should we just remember the piece for its interesting sound bytes (i.e. Damon considering McCain’s VP selection as from a ‘bad Disney movie’)?

In the future, when people do a web-search for Matt Damon’s interview concerning his views on Sarah Palin they won’t be looking for radio clips or press releases because it’s the video that they will remember. It can be discussed and argued that maybe such videos devalue the short film form by diluting the art form to merely a static source of celebrity gossip. But look for these videos to increase in volume and popularity over the web as many celebrities are finding the ease with which they can channel such opinions to an infinite number of people.

This also establishes a dangerous precedent. It proves that even though the internet may seem a level playing field of exposure for one’s opinions or art, a person’s popularity in the physical world is inherently far more likely to carry them far into cyberspace. Can you say Paris Hilton?

La Lettre

La Lettre (The Letter)
Directed by Michel Gondry, France, 1998. 10:19 minutes.


La Lettre, which marked Gondry's first attempt at dialogue, was commissioned by Canal +, a French television program, as a part of short film series broadly titled "En attendant l'an 2000" (Waiting for the Year 2000).

The film is, for the most part, very simple. Two brothers have a conversation in hushed voices, during which they discuss the imminent New Year, photography, and the younger brother’s love for his classmate, Aurélie. The dynamic between the brothers is typically...well...brotherly. The older brother (who I thought was strikingly reminiscent of Buzz McAllister in Home Alone) is gangly and appears to have just begun to develop a smear of a mustache. He makes Stéphane feel insecure for not yet having kissed a girl, pressuring him to make his move on Aurélie before the year 2000 and dramatically making out with the air to demonstrate the proper kissing technique.

The interesting part of the film (which is also where Gondry’s style really peeks through) begins when Stéphane’s brother goes to bed, and Stéphane, waiting for his photo to finish developing, begins to drift off. He then has a vivid surrealist dream in which he is at a New Year’s party and everyone is chanting for him to kiss Aurélie. But a giant camera is where his head should be, and as the two get closer to each other, he bumps heads (cameras?) with her and knocks her to the ground. To add insult to injury, then the Eiffel Tower falls on him. It’s every kid’s biggest fear, a fear so consuming that even viewers well beyond pre-adolescence cringe with embarrassment of the I’m-so-glad-that-wasn’t-me variety. And as for the symbolism, it’s obvious: Stéphane has been distancing himself from social situations by passively taking pictures of people and events (e.g. Aurélie) instead of actively participating (e.g. kissing her).

The next day, Stéphane races over to Aurélie’s house to pick up a letter she’s written for him, certain that in it she’s confessed her mutual love for him. Tragically, however, Aurélie has written that it’s Stéphane’s brother she “fancies,” and the film ends with Stéphane sadly removing the pictures of her from his wall.

This film piqued my interest partly because of the dream sequence, but also because of the photography theme—specifically, the use of negatives. Aurélie’s image projected on the wall of Stéphane’s hallway is obviously a negative, but she appears to him in his dream as a negative image—the only negative image in the entire dream--as well. And finally, at the end as Aurélie’s voice reads the letter addressed to Stéphane, there is a sweeping view of houses, which appear as negatives until just before the last line of the letter, “Enjoy your vacation.” I’m coming at this as a Lit major, so I can only come up with a nauseatingly corny interpretation: that Stéphane’s image of and love for Aurélie is, visually and literally, undeveloped. But what do you all think it means? Does it mean anything or is the use of negative images a purely aesthetic addition to the film? Or better yet, does it have to mean anything?

Trilogy of Terror

TRILOGY OF TERROR (Amelia Episode)
Directed by Dan Curtis, USA, 1975, approx. 25 minutes (entire movie 72 minutes)

Arguably one of the most famous short horror films to come out of the 1970’s, Trilogy of Terror was powered by the writing of Richard Matheson (a prolific author and screenwriter who penned I am Legend among many other things), the directing of Dan Curtis (probably best known for his work with Dark Shadows), and the on-screen appearance of a murderous, sputtering, demon-possessed doll (some 13 years before “Chucky”).

Trilogy of Terror appeared on ABC for the first time in March 1975, and featured three original stories, all acted by Karen Black. The first two segments, entitled “Julie” and “Millicent and Therese,” while interesting and creepy, never quite generate the sense of explosive power of the final segment, “Amelia,” which features the aforementioned doll, specifically a Zuni hunting fetish doll which comes to life and stalks Black (Amelia) throughout her apartment. In this way, the first two episodes soften the audience up for the final act.

The story begins with Amelia at home with the fetish doll, a gift for her new boyfriend Arthur (an anthropology professor). Amelia calls her mom to break their usual Friday night date which displeases mom. Amelia, who reads out all we need to know about the doll through the phone (including the solemn warning to not let a gold chain about its waist break) then proceeds to set the expected in motion, when she sets the doll down, accidentally loosening the chain, as wanders off to take a shower. She comes back to find the doll missing, heads into the kitchen to discover one of the knives gone, and then eventually comes face to face with the angry demon doll, fully possessed and in full hunting spirit. Amelia tries a variety of methods (beating, drowning, stabbing) to dispatch the little indefatigable gremlin, but only manages to get rid of it when she chucks it into the oven. Problem is, the evil spirit is impervious to fire, which she discovers when she opens things up to check on the damage.

There’s an amazing sense of horror that the filmmakers are able to provoke with their limited ABC budget through the clever use of a claustrophobic set (we’re stuck in that apartment throughout), the aural effect of both Amelia’s screaming and the creature’s incessant growls, and a series of intense images. Among the latter are the dripping-wet doll clambering out of the bathtub with a knife securely tucked into its fangs, its kitchen knife flashing and probing under doorways, and the obligatory camera angles from a doll’s eye perspective chasing Amelia through her apartment. The most effective image, though, apparently suggested by Black herself, is the ending one. Amelia, who has been possessed by the evil hunting spirit, has called mom to come over to the apartment, and is patiently waiting in the middle of the darkened room. The camera slowly closes in on Amelia, who is crouched on the floor, stabbing a much larger kitchen knife into the floor again and again, until her face fills the frame. At this point, her mouth opens and the audience sees a fresh set of sharp, very familiar fangs.

The effect of this film is incalculable but significant - a short cruise through the IMDB or Amazon pages on Trilogy of Terror reveals a host of comments along the lines of “this film scared the bejesus out me as a kid and I’ve never forgotten it.” Amazon even offers a Zuni doll replica (for only $44!) to relive your favorite moments from the movie. While I don’t remember if I specifically saw this when it first came out, I actually remember quite well the school bus ride of the next morning and the bleary eyes of many a fellow student who couldn’t sleep after seeing it.

The 1970’s seemed to be a prime time for horror (both in the theaters and on TV), and there are websites devoted to listing these out and recounting them. There was something about that postwar period, right after Vietnam, when the nation's filmmakers captured a sort of national angst, and it was readily available to a large percentage of the population even on TV. Much of the horror of that time involves possession and the devil, and Trilogy of Terror is very much about that, presenting a dark portrait of a battle fought and lost.

I suspect that I didn’t see Trilogy of Terror when it first came out, because I had already been too badly frightened by another TV horror movie which aired in January of that year, titled Satan’s Triangle, which featured a boat-load of passengers getting bumped off by the devil in the Bermuda Triangle. It also featured a very similar ending, of a smiling face revealing murderous intent. I would have reviewed that if it was available and if I had the courage, but I believe Trilogy of Terror is a great representative of a decade rich in horror shorts.