America(n) Falls

It could be said the the ordinary level of stress associated with writing a blog post (moderate but temporary) is heightened considerably when writing on a film made by the man who grades it. However, this task is made considerably easier when the author actually enjoyed the film in question. Fortunately, I find myself in this position as I unpack my experience with the experimental triptych film American Falls (2010) by Phil Solomon.

American Falls, for those readers who aren't Professor Solomon, is a journey over Niagara falls and through American history. The film is somewhat of a highlight reel of history, featuring a variety of documentary media of key events and players. It is not, however, the all out celebration of American independence and culture one might imagine.

The three reels incorporated in the triptych film were all chemically treated, giving them an almost sepia tone quality. This chemical process also produces a great variety of texture on the film stock that, when coupled with standard processing errors (or perhaps marks also created by the chemicals?), gives the viewer (or at least me) an impression of both the film stock and the image within it burning. This burning texture is especially visible when the two side reels show scenes of water pouring over the falls. To me, this burning was the key that unlocked the deeper meaning of the film; the overtaking of cold rushing water by flames is taken literally a great and powerful force burning. When coupled with the title American Falls, we can understand that image represents the perversion of the great experiment that has been the United States of America. Once this metaphorical base is established, the meaning within the rest of the film can become more clear (and it also helps if you view it with Solomon's live commentary).

The critique embedded within this film is also illuminated by its soundtrack. In the opening of American Falls, the viewer hears the loud sounds of rushing water, accompanied by warped strings that fade in and out. This manipulation of music carries on throughout the film. During the section on the Great Depression, the soundtrack features a slowed down and tooled version of "God Bless America" that makes it sound ghostly. At one point only the center reel shows images, and shows a line of men waiting for bread or a job that could be straight out of an early Warner Bros. musical. When the side reels come in, they show a sign declaring "No Men Wanted." The conflict between the words of the song and the images on screen signify the gravity of the hardships of the great depression. Later, the soundtrack yields to the sound of wind as the film transitions into the Dust Bowl. The sound and image here, of houses spinning around in dust, have the same effect as on the previous sequence.

Later in the film these same types of conflicts between sound and image, as well as the individual qualities of the sound and image, represent critiques of American politics, economics, and social norms. This is why I believe another title for this film could be (if I may) "America Falls." Although it isn't necessarily a prophecy of doom or a diagnosis of our problems, American Falls points out a difficult truth: That Our country is imperfect. That Its history is marred by original sin and characterized by difficult and questionable compromises. And finally, maybe most importantly, that if we do not change our direction, America falls.

Terrence Malick: "The Voice-over Kid"

The first Terrence Malick film I ever watched was Days of Heaven (1978) in my film intro class at CU Boulder. I remember being entranced by the cinematography, the soundtrack by Ennio Morricone and the prowess of the actors. I was also struck by the voice-over narration. While many scoff at the heavy East coast accent of the child narrator, I thought it was enormously entertaining. A student in my class asked about the narration, to which the professor gave a lengthy explanation that resulted in my understanding that voice-over narration is essentially Malick. However, after viewing Malick's The Thin Red Line (1998) and Tree of Life (2011) in a class that focuses on the sound track as an essential part of film, I now understand that voice-over narration is only a small piece of the captivating sound design in Malick's work. In order to explain this, I will focus only on the sound of Thin Red Line, not for lack of respect for Tree of Life, but for respect for the richness of Malick's war drama.

The Thin Red Line centers around a unit of American soldiers on active duty in the pacific during the battle of Guadalcanal in WWII. Throughout the film, there are various narrations, although the most powerful is one with a slight southern drawl who seems to understand perfectly the gravity of their situation. These narrations are punctuated by a string heavy orchestral soundtrack composed by Hans Zimmer and a great variety of effects mixing on ambient sound and sound effects.

A scene in which this sound mix can be fully appreciated, and just happens to be my favorite, is the sequence in which the American soldiers approach the line and capture a Japanese command post. After a voice-over monologue, presumably by Adrian Brody's character, a soft ticking sound starts to come in the background. The ticking is then joined by a quiet, high pitched, staccato woodwind notes playing on octaves. A short voice-over then begins, and is then accompanied by low strings. The sounds of preparation for battle are heard along with their images; guns are loaded, bayonets are affixed to the tips of rifles.

Then, as the men advance into the fog (metaphor?) we hear the sounds of footsteps and branches along with the occasional bird. Suddenly a bullet whizzes by, before being followed by another. These bullets are made more intense by the absence of the sound of gunshots. Shortly after, though, the solider we've been following shoots into the fog (definitely a metaphor) and we hear his rifle at full volume. The sound continues to be score dominated for a few more seconds before the Japanese soldiers mount a full assault.

After an initial barrage of human voices and gunshots, the voices fade and the mechanical sounds of battle (bullets, bayonets, and grenades) are emphasized. Throughout this time, the score continues its inspiring yet sorrowful string melody. As the battle progresses these strings get louder, and we hear the sounds of battle grow more and more faint as the Americans continue to assert their control. Then the ticking rises again to promises before the southern narrator asks, "Where's it coming from? This great evil..." Meanwhile, the strings continue to drive the soldiers forward, with silence in the background.

Shortly after, the ambient noise comes back, and we again have diegetic sound and monologue, as one of the American soldiers talks to a dying Japanese soldier. At this point, the strings change and take a higher tone before being assaulted by a dissonant horn line. The strings power through, however, still at their high pitch. The back ground sound then fades away again before we hear a Japanese soldier, sobbing and clutching his dead comrade as an American looks on.

The power of this sequence is almost a revelation in cinema. The expert shooting and soundtrack give the viewer both an intense and complex sensory experience. More importantly, however, they cause the viewer to sympathize with the American cause while also sympathizing with the Japanese soldiers. This is a challenging emotional place for the viewer to be situated, yet it is an important one to engage with.