Intro to Film 2025 • Professor Gregory Zinman • Emory University

Author: Kaitlin Keil

  • Why Watching RRR Felt Like an Event

    https://newlinesmag.com/spotlight/decoding-indian-film-rrrs-popularity-in-the-west

    I chose to focus on this article because it centers on the audience and their reactions to the film. What stood out to me most while watching RRR was my own audible reactions, as well as those of everyone around me. I kept catching myself gasping or laughing out loud, and nearly everyone else in the room was doing the same.

    I don’t watch movies in theaters very often, but even when I do, there usually is not much of an audible response from the audience. The only other recent times I can remember this happening in a way that truly impacted my experience as a viewer were when I watched Top Gun: Maverick and Avengers: Endgame. I remember thinking how special that felt, and watching our class react so strongly to RRR gave me a very similar experience.

    I think this only happens when a movie genuinely takes you on a journey. While watching RRR, I felt like I lived six different lives, and by the middle of the three-hour film, I was so invested that it felt impossible not to react to what was happening on screen. It really does feel like an explosion in your mind. There is so much happening at once, good, evil, frightening, and exciting, that you are forced to stay fully engaged and constantly process everything unfolding in front of you.

    The article describes the film as “an epic action drama that feels like a ‘party’”, which I think captures it perfectly. The author includes audience reactions such as: “‘It felt like a Marvel movie,’ said another. “Marvel on steroids, perhaps?’ agreed the third. ‘I loved the characters with superhuman abilities; they just wouldn’t die,’ chimed in the fourth.” That was exactly how I felt while watching it, and it explains why RRR reminded me so strongly of my Avengers: Endgame viewing experience.

    Overall, this resource is useful because it shows how RRR is not just a movie people watch, but a movie people experience together. The audience reaction becomes part of the film’s meaning, turning spectatorship itself into something worth analyzing.

  • “The Art Cinema as a Mode of Film Practice” and “The Hangover”

    David Bordwell’s “The Art Cinema as a Mode of Film Practice” defines art cinema as a distinct mode that rejects classical Hollywood conventions of linear storytelling, defined cause and effect, and psychological clarity. Rather, it emphasizes realism, authorial expressivity, and ambiguity. Bordwell writes about how art films often feature psychologically complex characters, loosely structured narratives, and situations that don’t come to complete resolution. He argues that art cinema films, while more complex, actually present a more realistic version of reality by incorporating the deep complexities and problems left unsolved that frequently occur in real life.

    A film I watched recently is The Hangover (2009), and while the movie is definitely a mainstream Hollywood comedy, it’s interesting to think about how the film adapts specific techniques from the art cinema style. Bordwell writes, “Just as the Hollywood silent cinema borrowed avant-garde devices but as-
    similated them to narrative ends, so recent American filmmaking has appropriated art-film devices”, talking about how mainstream Hollywood films incorporate elements of art cinema. He goes on to list specific examples such as the open ending of Five Easy Pieces (1970) or the “psychological ambiguity” of The Conversation (1974).

    The structure of The Hangover disrupts the typical cause-effect style of classical narrative cinema. All the events of the story are told out of order to keep the mystery of what happened that night alive, and the viewer is subject to extreme restricted narration. The film opens on the day of the wedding, near the end of the actual story, when the groomsmen call the bride to admit they lost the Doug (the groom). From there, the story cuts to two days previous to that as the boys are shown embarking on Doug’s bachelor party. Finally, the film cuts from the beginning of the night right to the chaotic morning after the party, where Doug is missing and no one can remember a thing from the night before.

    This non-linear structure immediately places the audience in a state of confusion and curiosity, mirroring the characters’ own disorientation. Similar to the art cinema Bordwell describes, the film asks viewers to piece together what happened through fragments of memory, visual clues, and subjective perspectives.

  • Documentary Experience and Family Theme: Paris is Burning

    Watching Jennie Livingston’s Paris is Burning (1990) gave me a fascinating perspective on Harlem’s ballroom culture, a world I hadn’t known much about before. I also don’t watch documentaries very often which made this feel like a unique viewing experience for me both content-wise and stylistically.

    One of the elements that stood out most to me was the concept and importance of chosen family. The film emphasizes how the “houses” function not simply as performance groups, but as emotional homes for participants who might not have been accepted in their biological families.They even have familial roles within their Houses, such as mother of the house. I liked the way the participants describe the role of the mother; they talk about how important she is and how she emotionally and financially supports the rest of the family. The House offers a safe haven for many individuals experiencing homelessness or economic hardship, and the sense of belonging feels just as important as the creative expression.

    It was really impactful to hear the stories of the participants and learn about why they loved being a part of the ballroom space so much. A specific moment that resonated with me was when one of the participants talked about how performing made them feel famous, recognized, and loved, even if just for a few minutes. That line stuck with me because it felt so universal. Even though I don’t have any connection to ballroom culture, the feeling of wanting to be seen and appreciated for what you’re good at is something most people relate to in their own lives and fields of work. It didn’t seem like a desire for fame, but a longing to be acknowledged and to feel like you matter in the space you choose to exist in.

    When thinking about this film in terms of genre, I felt that the documentary format made me feel very immersed in the era. The archival style and raw visual quality made it feel like I was genuinely in late-1980s New York rather than watching a movie from decades ago. I know that movies are often immersive and transport you to a different world, but this felt different than a fictional movie. It was more immediate and intimate rather than a sort of escape. Overall, I enjoyed the experience of being immersed in this unfamiliar world.

    Some questions I’m posing to the class: is ballroom “realness” a form of escape, empowerment, or assimilation? Does the camera feel observational, celebratory, exploitative, or something in between? How does the film’s documentary style shape our emotional reaction to the people on screen?

  • Narrative Form in Now You See Me 2

    When reading this week’s Film Art chapter on narrative form, specifically the section about “playing games with story time”, I kept thinking back to the movie Now You See Me 2. This film stood out to me so strongly because of its unique storytelling structure and the way plot twists are revealed.

    I watched this movie, the sequel, before I had ever seen the original movie, so I was probably more confused than the average viewer would have been. But, the film’s narrative is essentially structured as a magic trick in itself, which is fitting for a story centered around magicians.

    The film does an excellent job of building up mystery and suspense while remaining entertaining the entire time. There are quite a few different subplots that run throughout the movie. In terms of narrative form, I’m focusing on timelines and temporal frequency.

    The movie begins in a flashback of the character Dylan’s childhood. It’s a pivotal scene of his father dying while performing a failed magic trick. For viewers who haven’t seen the first film, this scene feels disconnected until the very end, an example of how the film withholds meaning until the right moment, similar to a magician revealing the trick’s secret. However, the scene makes sense from the start if the viewer has already seen the first movie. I was reminded of this scene when reading about the importance of flashbacks, and what part of the movie they are placed in. Putting this at the beginning of the movie keeps viewers intrigued the whole film, as they are waiting to find out what the significance of the scene is.

    Furthermore, the clip I attached is one of the best examples of temporal play in the film. In the beginning, there is a scene where we see the four magicians trying to escape the FBI. They jump down a shoot that they think will bring them to their escape truck, and instead somehow end up in the middle of Japan in a matter of seconds. The audience, sharing the Horsemen’s limited point of view, is completely disoriented. Later on in the movie, the scene is repeated.This time, it is revealed that the entire operation was orchestrated by Walter, the film’s main antagonist. He actually hypnotized and transported them to Japan via private jet during this “instant” transition. By repeating the scene and revealing hidden context, the film “plays games with plot time,” keeping the viewer’s knowledge aligned with that of the main characters.

  • Montage vs Total Realism: Cruel Intentions

    This week’s readings, Sergei Eisenstein’s “A Dialectic Approach to Film Form” and Andre Bazin’s “The Myth of Total Cinema” both attempt to define the meaning of cinema. The two perspectives present very different ideas about the origins and purpose of film.

    In “A Dialectic Approach to Film Form”, Eisenstein argues that the essence of cinema is conflict. He writes about how all art (poetry, music, architecture, etc) expresses conflict, and in cinema this is created through montage. Eisenstein’s view is that rhythm, dynamism, and intellectual engagement arise not from perfect representation of reality on a screen, but from intentional juxtaposition. In the text he uses the example of how a shot of workers being killed crosscut with a bull’s slaughter in Strike is more powerful because it transforms, rather than simply replicates, reality.

    Bazin, on the other hand, believes that cinema is driven by the impulse to perfectly replicate reality, what is referred to as “the myth of total cinema”. His opinion is that each new technological development brings us one step closer to achieving total realism. He writes, “In short, cinema has not yet been invented!”. He claims that the better the technical aspects get, the closer cinema gets to its origins: the dream of recreating the world in its own image, with sound, color, and relief. So, in Bazin’s view, cinema’s history (silent film, black and white film) is a gradual fulfillment of this myth.

    When thinking about these theories in relation to a film I recently watched, Cruel Intentions (1999), I can see both perspectives at play. In line with Bazin’s notion of total realism, the movie leans heavily into aesthetics, attempting to completely immerse the viewer in the late-90s New York City prep school world. Lavish penthouses, Hamptons mansions, and the intricate webs of manipulation among characters create a convincing and recognizable social reality. The authenticity of the setting and behaviors allows viewers to feel as though they are peering into the ridiculous lives of the privileged elite.

    At the same time, the film’s editing and symbols throughout heighten the audience’s emotional responses and ideological tension while watching, underscoring Eisenstein’s idea of conflict and montage as the core of cinema. A representation of this is Sebastian’s journal which has many purposes throughout the movie. It functions as narration, revealing his manipulative schemes while also charting his vulnerability toward Annette. The film intercuts his reflections with images of his changing relationships, creating a clash between self-interest and sincerity that ultimately transforms his character.

    Overall, the movie embodies Bazin’s myth by immersing us in a believable social world, while simultaneously relying on Eisenstein’s principle of montage to provoke thought and sharpen the film’s critique of privilege, morality, and manipulation.

  • All That Heaven Allows: Transitions and Themes

    Douglas Sirk’s All That Heaven Allows, set in a small New England town in the 1950s, tells the story of Cary, a wealthy widow, and her budding romance with Ron, a much younger, less well-off gardener. This love affair causes an uproar among Cary’s superficial country club friends and, more sensitively, her children, who deeply disapprove of Ron.

    The editing throughout the film is very impressive, especially considering the fact that the film was made decades before digital editing existed. Sirk employs plenty of continuity editing to maintain a clear, easy-to-follow narrative. I specifically noticed the use of elliptical editing to condense time. The film transitions us through season after season seamlessly, although the entire movie is only an hour and a half long.

    One specific example that stood out to me was the dissolve on a tree in Cary’s backyard. The shot focuses on the tree in the fall full of bright red leaves, and slowly dissolves into a shot of the same tree, now nearly bare, marking the shift from autumn to winter.

    It’s a subtle but effective way to cue viewers that time has passed, and, in addition, it is a satisfying visual for the audience.

    Beyond editing, the film raises many questions about gender roles. The entire movie is clearly a commentary of the role of being a woman and mother in 1950s society. On the surface, Cary is boxed in by the expectations of being a mother and a respectable, upper-class woman. However, to me, the message seems to goes beyond just pointing out the freedoms that Cary is limited to as a single woman and hypocrisy she is faced with by society.

    In an ironic way, within her relationship with Ron, Cary almost seems to be playing “the man”. She often seems to hold more power between the two of them. Cary is the is the one with money, and social status, not to mention she’s also actually older than Ron. Even though Ron doesn’t seem to care about these things, it still seemed to establish a slight dominance in the relationship. At one point she even asks him, “Do you want me to be a man?”, to which he replies (jokingly), “Only in one way.” This is even visually represented when Ron has his accident and is physically emasculated. He is bedridden, unable to move, while Cary is watches over and takes care of him.

    This scene reminded me of the ending of Rear Window, where Jeff is immobilized and Lisa becomes the active, capable partner. Overall, the ending of the film made me think about what Sirk is trying to suggest about happy endings/happy relationships. In this scene, the entire setting of the house looks like a fantasy world. This is enhanced by the deer in the snow right outside of the window looking in at them.

  • The Grand Budapest Hotel: A Cinematic Gem Dissected 

    Throughout my viewing experience of The Grand Budapest Hotel, I was deeply conscious of the Film Art: Ch. 4:”The Shot: Mise-en-Scène” reading from the week. I tried to pay close attention to the intentional mise-en-scène aspects of each shot. However, after watching this video, I realized that I had mainly been paying attention to the lighting and camera angles in the movie. This quick analysis pointed out many other interesting details that I had missed.

    The Youtube video highlights many subtle mise-en-scène moments going on throughout the film. One technique mentioned that really stood out to me was how the color scheme and aspect ratio of the film shift after the first scene that takes place in the 1980s. The colors in that scene are dull and realistic, demonstrating present day reality, and the scene’s aspect ratio is 1.85:1, which the speaker explains is the conventional aspect ratio of the modern era. Then, when the movie cuts to the story of the author, the aspect ratio shifts to 2.35:1, which was the conventional ratio of the 1960s. The colors also become slightly more vibrant. Shortly after, when Zero begins telling his story to the author and the audience gets transported into Zero’s story, there is another shift. The aspect ratio changes to 1.37:1, which was conventional sizing of the 30s, and the colors become even brighter and more unrealistic. This symbolizes Zero’s warped, nostalgic memories of the past, and the grandeur and fondness that he associates with his time spent at the hotel with M. Gustave. The vibrant and fantastical colors that fill the scenes suggest that Zero may be looking back at that time through rose colored glasses.

    Another part of the video that stood out to me was the mention of Wes Anderson’s use of symmetry. Anderson is known for integrating symmetry frequently in scenes of his movies. However, this is frequently criticized, as people seem to think that the use of symmetry can put too much of a focus on how the shot is put together, rather than the emotional content of a scene. The video points out that in a comedy drama that is “veiled with satire and tragedy”, it goes perfectly with the way that Anderson is attempting to portray Zero’s memories. It is mentioned how the symmetry of the shots go right along with the overly romanticized version of the past that Zero is presenting. Symmetry represents the unattainable, as nothing in real life can ever look as perfect as a planned out, evenly staged film scene. It shows the perfection and cleanliness that Zero associates with the time. The symmetry and frequent use of wide shots in the hotel bring us directly into the inaccurate memories inside of Zero’s head.

    Overall, I really enjoyed watching this analysis of The Grand Budapest Hotel. I thought that this was a concise, well-thought-out video that fit an impressive amount of content into just eleven minutes. I always like to look up book reviews and analysis’ after I finish reading a book to try and get as much out of it as I possibly can. I don’t do this very often with movies, and I appreciated hearing another perspective and getting some new insights on the film we watched.