Dear Filmmakers,
I'm writing to ask you a favor.
No more Aha moments.
You know what I'm talking about.
That moment in a film when the protagonist suddenly has a revelation about their life, and breaks down in some form or another--in some instances, right down on their knees in the middle of the street (Shame).
What I most admire in acting and film-making is restraint and balance. So when you allow one of these moments to creep into your work, you take a piece of art and turn it into a Hallmark movie.
One crying scene is all it takes.
Or, in the case of The Descendants, kissing your comatose wife's forehead and whispering something sweet to her right before you walk away.
Really, Alexander Payne--I expect better of you.
Why did every director this year suddenly get so sappy?
I enjoyed Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close but I would wager that if you added up all the moments in that movie a character spends crying or raging against death, it would take up more time than all of Moneyball.
Moneyball--now there's a movie with restraint. You don't see Brad Pitt breaking down on the baseball field railing against the system.
Maybe we should call it the Sean Penn syndrome. Penn's "IS THAT MY DAUGHTER?" line from Mystic River has become known for that moment when a movie goes too far emotionally. Yes, a man realizing his daughter's just been murdered might be that hyperbolic, but on film it just comes across as...well...too much.
--Or maybe "not interesting" is a better term.
Watching someone grapple with grief and rage, while holding back tears is interesting. Watching them overpower eight men while busting a vocal cord? Not so much.
Usually you don't have too many examples of the Aha Sean Penn moment in any given crop of Best Picture nominees, but this year is rife with them.
Even though there's no display of tears, Hugo is one big sentimental lump. Ditto for The Artist, although its concept allows for some melodrama.
This year, can we try returning to subtlety? The benefit of film is that you're able to capture the slightest movements of human emotion.
Take advantage of that.
I understand that there's a certain appeal to putting moments on-screen that are larger than life, but sometimes--
Life is enough.
I'm writing to ask you a favor.
No more Aha moments.
You know what I'm talking about.
That moment in a film when the protagonist suddenly has a revelation about their life, and breaks down in some form or another--in some instances, right down on their knees in the middle of the street (Shame).
What I most admire in acting and film-making is restraint and balance. So when you allow one of these moments to creep into your work, you take a piece of art and turn it into a Hallmark movie.
One crying scene is all it takes.
Or, in the case of The Descendants, kissing your comatose wife's forehead and whispering something sweet to her right before you walk away.
Really, Alexander Payne--I expect better of you.
Why did every director this year suddenly get so sappy?
I enjoyed Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close but I would wager that if you added up all the moments in that movie a character spends crying or raging against death, it would take up more time than all of Moneyball.
Moneyball--now there's a movie with restraint. You don't see Brad Pitt breaking down on the baseball field railing against the system.
Maybe we should call it the Sean Penn syndrome. Penn's "IS THAT MY DAUGHTER?" line from Mystic River has become known for that moment when a movie goes too far emotionally. Yes, a man realizing his daughter's just been murdered might be that hyperbolic, but on film it just comes across as...well...too much.
--Or maybe "not interesting" is a better term.
Watching someone grapple with grief and rage, while holding back tears is interesting. Watching them overpower eight men while busting a vocal cord? Not so much.
Usually you don't have too many examples of the Aha Sean Penn moment in any given crop of Best Picture nominees, but this year is rife with them.
Even though there's no display of tears, Hugo is one big sentimental lump. Ditto for The Artist, although its concept allows for some melodrama.
This year, can we try returning to subtlety? The benefit of film is that you're able to capture the slightest movements of human emotion.
Take advantage of that.
I understand that there's a certain appeal to putting moments on-screen that are larger than life, but sometimes--
Life is enough.
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