Error


Did anyone notice that the shot introducing Henri Baurel toward the film's outset is completely illogical? It starts out as a point of view shot; as it tracks through the streets, Baurel (narrating at that moment) is greeted by the people he passes. He comes to a mirror, and a young man steps in front of it while Baurel assures the viewer that it is not him. Then, without cutting to another shot, the camera becomes static, and Baurel enters from frame right. Are we meant to believe that, while looking into the mirror from the location/perspective of the camera, Baurel enters into his own line of sight from another position entirely? It's either that, or he has spontaneously cloned himself. I figure that an Oscar winner for best picture would demonstrate a greater degree of proficiency in its mise-en-scène and cinematography, but I guess these elements are trivial in the Academy's eyes; at least they seem to have been in 1952.

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"An American in Paris" is one of the better films the Academy has ever been troubled to recognize. Yet I find it kind of sad, and ironic, that so many people seem to hold that fact against it, as if somehow to be awarded the "Oscar" meant that a film had to be perfect from each person's perspective. Even a highly technical and perhaps not too imaginative perspective as yours seems to be.

Let's talk about the shot introducing Kelly's character, Jerry Mulligan. The camera shows us vast overhead shots of Paris, then focuses on a street and pans up the street, then dollies up several stories as Kelly says "I live upstairs." But it shows us two beautiful young lovers kissing, and Kelly says "no, no, no, not there. One flight up." Then the camera cuts and shows us Kelly's Mulligan asleep in his tiny apartment.

The sequence introducing Henri Baurel is set up as a parallel to Mulligan's introduction, obviously. And Mulligan's introduction was hardly a "point of view" (POV) shot, unless you think that Mulligan was somehow floating in the air watching himself. Likewise the introduction of the Oscar Levant character follows the same pattern, with the camera floating up to one room and showing us a guy playing with his birds while Levant says, "no, that's not me, he's too happy." Then we have third Baurel introduced and it follow the same pattern. So why assume that Baurel's introduction, which was handled the same way, was a POV shot, when neither of the others were? It's merely a repetition of the same theme, but you've treated it as if it stood alone in the film. In fact these 3 sequences follow directly one after the other.

But regardless, your characterization of the scene itself is not as nuanced as the camera work. The only one of the bystanders who directly looks into the camera is the first. If you watch carefully, which I did just now, the second person (the one who's got paper in his hand) actually bows and glances at the area that would be just behind the camera. Then when Henri does enter the frame in the mirror-shot, he comes from the right, just where the guy was bowing. So what's happening here is a trick from Minnelli -- it only starts out as a POV shot, but then the camera tracks slightly ahead of Henri so that it arrives at the mirror before he does.

The camera in all of these scenes is not a POV, but rather a continuation of the omniscent "overhead" view of Paris that we got right in the first shots of the film. It just happened to coincide, and only for that instant, with Henri's point of view, much in the same way that even a broken clock will give you the accurate time twice a day. This is a far more sophisticated film than the kind that you can easily pick apart for technical "mistakes" like you do with some of the sloppy product that's out there. This is Vincente Minnelli we're talking about, one of the masters of film style. He doesn't follow your "rules" from community college film school.

Did I not love him, Cooch? MY OWN FLESH I DIDN'T LOVE BETTER!!! But he had to say 'Nooooooooo'

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I guess we just don’t see eye to eye on this subject. You are certainly welcome to disagree with me. Based on my experience with film scholarship and film editing, I consider this instance to be an inconsistency in film form. I do agree that Minnelli attempts to maintain stylistic continuity among the scenes introducing the three primary characters; there are, however, a few major problems. In the first two scenes, the characters are introduced in stationary positions (Mulligan on the bed, Cook at the piano). Baurel, though, is, apparently, walking through the streets of the city. This action complicates the “parallelism” between these shots, as the viewer must make sense of the greetings aimed directly at the camera. Secondly, while the first two scenes demonstrate reflexivity (Mulligan and Cook look into the camera), Baurel does not; rather, the people he passes do so, instead. Even if only one of the people on the street look directly into the camera, the audience typically registers this as a point of view shot, based on prior conditioning to this technique (see Making Meaning by David Bordwell, or any number of his essays on Cognitive Film Theory). Most viewers simply forget the shot’s original orientation once they see Baurel enter the frame. Technically, the filmmakers are “allowed” to implement whatever techniques they would like; aside from the rules of continuity editing, there are generally no strictures in the area of motion picture style, but, regardless, this does not change what the shot is ... an inconsistency in form.

Regarding the opening sequence of shots that introduce the Parisian landscape: in my opinion, the fact that a production crew has access to a camera crane does not automatically translate into impressive camerawork, as is the case in the opening shots of this film; indeed, they’re rather basic examples of cinematography. You might note that rather than track from the street, past the window with the couple, directly to Mulligan in his room all in one shot, the filmmakers opt for the easier, less engaging, method; instead, the camera tracks and tilts upwards from the street, cuts to a separate shot (tracking and panning left) outside of the couples’ room and then cuts again to a third shot of the same technique as it finally reveals Mulligan. Also, if you pay close attention to how camera placement relates to editing throughout the movie, you will notice numerous instances where jump cuts occur. This is typically due to poor camerawork (maintaining a relatively similar distance between the camera and subject(s) while simultaneously failing to change the camera angle by more than 30° between subsequent shots), and not enough “coverage” (insufficient footage for the editor to work with in order to create matches on action). A few examples can be found at 14:32, 17:49, and 1:20:41, in terms of their time code positions on the DVD release.

I don’t believe that an Oscar winning picture must be perfect in every respect to “deserve” its awards/nominations. However, I just have trouble with the fact that a film like An American In Paris can win Best Cinematography and a masterpiece in camerawork like Touch Of Evil doesn’t even garner a nomination, simply because it was a B-movie. Speaking of Orson Welles, Citizen Kane (an A-film) possesses much more elaborate camerawork than An American In Paris; not only was it produced ten years earlier by a filmic neophyte (at the time), but it was made for 1/4 of An American In Paris' budget, and, yet, no Oscar was awarded for its cinematography. I guess my standards are simply different than the Academy’s. But, I haven’t known many film theorists and historians to agree with the Academy, anyway.

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I appreciate what you say here, but I don't think it's so much an inconsistency in form as a tweaking of the form. It's a trick, that's for sure, but that doesn't mean it's incorrect or an "error" in any way. It doesn't match up exactly with the previous 2 introductions for various reasons... first of all the way that it works in terms of the audio portions is exactly similar, secondly the character of Henri is more of a wanderer and more a part of the fabric of Paris than the other 2. It makes more sense to have him wandering about, and being recognized by the various shopkeepers, because he is a native Parisian. Plus, I would argue that this is more of a progression than an inconsistency... Minnelli is bringing the camera progressively closer to the city, just as he was when he zoomed in with the very first shots from the cityscape to the streets.

At any rate, I'm sure that "AIP" win for cinematography had less to do with those shots in particular than with the massive ballet near the conclusion, which required some incredible feats of cinematography. The middle part of the ballet in particular, when Caron and Kelly are silhouetted against the blue background and the fountain, are really breath-takingly beautiful. Beauty isn't the same thing as technical proficiency though of course. "Citizen Kane" wasn't photographed by a neophyte, but rather by Gregg Toland. And it didn't get many Oscar noms because it ticked off WR Hearst.

Thanks for the response though, I'll try and look at those specific points you're talking about when I have time. The thing is, though, the Oscars aren't given out by professionals in just one particular field. The actors and directors and everyone else votes on the cinematography award, not just cinematographers. So they are looking more at the effect that was accomplished and not at the methods used to achieve it.

Did I not love him, Cooch? MY OWN FLESH I DIDN'T LOVE BETTER!!! But he had to say 'Nooooooooo'

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These are definitely some solid thoughts. Indeed, as I said in my last response, filmmakers (to a degree) have the freedom to express themselves in their films; so titling my original post "Error" was probably an error in itself, now that I think about it. At the time that I wrote it, I had been growing increasingly frustrated with each Oscar winner for "Best Picture" that I’d been seeing. I just don't find this film particularly impressive. Even the cinematography during the lengthy dance routine at the conclusion is mediocre, at best. This is not to say that staging and lighting aren't well-executed, but, if I recall correctly, the camera remains static and at a wide angle for most of this sequence. In my opinion, in order to grant someone the most prestigious award for cinematography in all of American cinema for a given year, the camera work featured should be somewhat more elaborate and adroit than other films released during that same year; I just don’t find this to be true of An American In Paris.

In any case, I did know that Citizen Kane was "photographed" by Gregg Toland. When I said "produced," I meant that the visionary behind the picture was Orson Welles (at the time, a 24-year-old with only two short films under his belt). Also, if William Randolph Hearst was as prominent a threat to Citizen Kane's success as most seem to think, then I doubt very much that it would have won the Oscar for best original screenplay that year, it being the component of the movie that exposed and angered Hearst most of all.

Thanks for your response.

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Very good point about Citizen Kane.... I think some of its defenders, and I might have been guilty of that myself above, are too blythe to sort of assign blame to Hearst if it wasn't immediately acclaimed as a unique film masterpeice. But that happens only very rarely. Not too many of the best pictures have really won the Oscar. And I suppose the same is true of cinematography, although perhaps less so. I'm not as knowledgeable about the technique of it as you seem to be. I tend to be more overwhelmed or underwhelmed by the total effect of the photography, and not by the technique of it. Or let's put it another way -- if the technique is simple but the effect is beautiful, would we call that sublime or merely efficient? If the camera were to dance about in the ballet sequence, would the added complexity of the shots make the photography more impressive? Or only more impressive in a technical sense, not more impressive in terms of the beauty or efficiency of the image. From my experience, I've noted that directors and DPs will move the camera around more when you're photographing a poor dancer than a good dancer, as in a way to compensate or make up for the dancer's lack of style. For example in George Sydney's "Viva Las Vegas", he moves the camera around more and changes the angle more for Elvis than he does for Ann-Margret. Too much camera movement can detract from the effectiveness of the dance, of course depending on circumstances. If the camera moves around a lot while Gene Kelly is dancing quickly, then it basically negates the dancer's movement, almost cancelling it out. And then there's the fact that the less often you use the crane or the movement of the camera in general, the more impact you get out of the moments when you do. It's sort of the opposite of a basic cut or edit in that way I guess.

But perhaps on the most basic level, there's a necessity to keep the camera fairly steady and to not use a lot of cuts in these types of dance scenes because doing so was a cheat to the audience. Kelly was into doing good 30 to 90 second segments of the dances with no editing at all, so that the audience could see that he wasn't tricking them but could actually do the dance. If you move the camera too much, the audience will start to think that they're being tricked somehow as well, because at that moment their attention is supposed to be focused on the dancer, and the camera movement comes across as a distraction or a sleight of hand. The audience wants to see the performer up close, really doing the moves and having the timing and rhythm down perfectly. So there's a forced almost documentary like or theatrical aspect to dance sequences in general, and it's up to the film-makers to overcome that. They usually do that by couching or positioning the dance sequences carefully throughout the movie, so that the rhythm of the larger picture prevents the static nature of the camera in the music sequences seem less obtrusive. But Minnelli couldn't do that with the "American in Paris" ballet because of its length and its placement in the film at the climax. So he did actually move the camera more than was often done in that time during the sequence, but he managed to do so in a way that never lost focus of the individual performers. He was combining the best aspects of the Busby Berkeley era, the whole geometry and composition of the shots for camera that you couldn't do on stage, with the more up-close and personal style that was favored by stage-to-film stars like Kelly, Astaire and Ethel Waters who he worked with in those early years. So that you can see Kelly's face and all the details of his body clearly while he does his dance, but you can also see the geometry of a larger setting. Since the camera isn't doing much movement and there's very little shift in perspective, everything has to be done in a way that adds graceful style to the fundamental patois or whatever you want to call it that you have in front of you.

Did I not love him, Cooch? MY OWN FLESH I DIDN'T LOVE BETTER!!! But he had to say 'Nooooooooo'

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