A Feast for the Eyes

The first film I ever saw on the Big Screen was 'ANTZ', released by Dreamworks in 1998. Now I'm feeling old...

Amongst it's many memorable scenes, one of my personal favourites is when Z (voiced by Woody Allen) and Princess Bala (Sharon Stone) get stuck to a piece of gum on the underside of a giant sneaker. When of course, the person attempts to remove the gum with a penny (we never see anything of this person besides their leg, which is ginormous!) what the ants see is the copper face of Abraham Lincoln hovering over them like a UFO. For all it's dark, cynical humour, 'ANTZ' offered up a unique perspective on the world, the viewpoint of the ant, one which is summed up in the words of Z when, upon witnessing the ominous Abe asks:

"Who the Hell is that?!"

What's great about this film, (and I have to admit looking back on it I was a little surprised by some of its mature subject matter) is that Dreamworks really created a world for these ants to inhabit. It's a film rich with imagination and visuals. Everything in the ants' world is super-sized - even their adversaries the termites. By the way, I think the battle between the ants and the termites in 'ANTZ' was the first real battle I ever witnessed on screen. It was gory and epic, and to a young boy, it was the most violence I'd ever experienced in a film. But what is interesting about this particular animated battle scene was that, unlike even some live action wars that I've seen in recent years, it really didn't try to promote or glamourise violence. Z is overwhelmed, during the course of the fighting he loses his only friend amongst the ant soldiers, and ultimately all this needless death is as the result of a purge set in motion by the evil General Mandible. What 'ANTZ' said back in 1998, that many films have ignored today, is that war is often the result of selfish ambition, and it's the individuals who suffer for it.

Now that I've got that off my chest...

I was talking about the way Dreamworks created a rich world for the audience on screen. That's really the reason anything is done in film, it's for the audience. That was Hitchcock's belief. Make the film as pleasing to watch as possible. Make it an experience. A feast for the eyes.

When I was little we would go to the cinema, me, my mom, my dad, and my sister. We still do today, but back then it was different. We don't go to see animated movies anymore, and we're very selective about the movies we do watch. If you're going to spend that kind of money, it had better be worth it.

We don't go for the sake of childhood, 'cause we're all grown ups now... okay, so I'm lying a little bit.
But let's be honest, if you grew up in the 90's and early 2000's like I did, you'll now there's a difference between going to the movies today and what it was like 20, even 10 years ago. When I was small, going to the cinema was all about the combo, the booster seats and the smell. Cinema has a smell. You'll only know it when it takes you're breath away, and I mean that in a positive sense.

It's like Lucy when she was entering the wardrobe for the first time in 'Narnia: The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe', the first thing she notices is the smell. It smells like pine, even when everything around her is fur and coats and coat hangers. 'Why does it smell like pine?' she wonders. Then she pushes a little further and she feels the pine needles. That is what it was like going the movies growing up. You can tell the smell of the movie house even when you're two shops away from it in the mall. The popcorn, the salt, whatever kind of fabric cleaner they're using on the seats, even the smell of electricity used to power the bloody thing. The glowing movie posters. All this contributes to the smell. You're already halfway into this magical wardrobe.

Then you feel the combo in your hands. The popcorn, small, a slightly larger Coke, the straw, and no combo is complete without chocolate. Trust me. Grab your booster seat, make sure dad's got the tickets, and you go inside. Straight into darkness. Perhaps the trailers are already playing when you get in. That's okay, you haven't missed anything. The snow is falling in Narnia. Then the movie begins, now you know you're in another world.

That sense of wonder's died down a little bit in recent years. Whereas before, the films were like the giant picnic from 'ANTZ', now many of the films are rapped in plastic.

Today's films promise 'Insect-topia' to their audiences but instead all we find is 'some kind of forcefield' separating us from the meat of the story, the juice in the characters. With CGI, and motion-capture, films today put on a spectacle. In other words, yes, a feast for the eyes, but a feast we can't enjoy simply because that's all it is; a visual, a spectacle, not made to be enjoyed, just looked at. I can't tell you how many times I've been disappointed by today's films because that's all that they're giving me. It leaves me... starving. 

I'm starving for story. Movies with meaning. Films with fulfilment. I get there's a line to be drawn, we obviously can't draw all our sustenance from the movie industry. But for goodness sake, I want the experience back. If not for me, then for the next generation. That's really what creates the experience isn't it? We go into the movies to enter another world. And no world truly exists without story. 

As C.S. Lewis put it, "We read to know we are not alone."

If I may offer up my own spin on this idea:

"We watch to know we are not alone."

You see, we can have all the right ingredients. We can check everything off on our list. We can have the popcorn, the soda, the chocolate, the straw, the booster seat and the ticket. We can throw CGI and 3D at the audience, but in the end we've accomplished nothing. We've experienced nothing. We've felt nothing. We've gone nowhere, and we've met no-one. If there's no story, no world to visit, no characters whose journey we're invited to walk, then what's the point of the movies? What's the point of film? What's the point of television even?

I hope you're reading this with a story to tell...

Because the audience has seen the plastic, and they're asking us as storytellers, "How do we get in?"

I hope you and I can tell a story that can answer that question:

"This way..."