#aestethics

Black Swan (2010), directed by Darren Aronofsky, is a masterpiece on film. I could spend hours, days, weeks writing about everything I love about this movie. Of course I can, it’s probably my second-favourite film of all time. Unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of that time, and this is just a simple blog about the aesthetics of cinema. So, this is me setting the stage early (pun intended), there is no way I will be able to cover every hidden symbol or colour choice in this movie. Though I do want to discuss some of my favourite and recurring aesthetic motifs that link to the larger themes and messaging of the film.

These motifs will be discussed in their own dedicated blog posts as follows:

Broken Mirrors and Our Mirrored Selves

Winged Creatures, The Butterfly and the Swan

Stolen Lipstick: Femininity, Sexuality and Womanhood

I’m really excited to discuss a movie that means so much to me, and hopefully, it will not take me too long to post each section.

"I felt it. Perfect. It was perfect." - Nina Sayers

Just like Nina's final performance, Black Swan (2010) is a perfect movie with timeless visuals that remain instantly recognisable even 16 years after its release.

Part 2: The False Meaning of Christmas (Commercialism)

So, back in Part 1, I discussed how the aesthetics of The Grinch (2000) represented the bombastic and comedic side of the Grinch, the main character within the film. If you haven’t read that blog post yet, I would definitely recommend doing so, as it’s a nice, lighthearted piece of reading.

Whereas in this second half, I will be discussing how the aesthetics of The Grinch (2000) also represent another side of the Grinch: his irritation and cynicism. Particularly his irritation and cynicism surrounding how the Whos have been celebrating and conducting Christmas. To do this, as previously explained in Part 1, I will delve in-depth into one section of the film to represent my thesis: that the aesthetics of The Grinch (2000) typify, well, the Grinch. Which is why it's actually quite ironic that in this second half of my blog, I’m actually going to be delving into scenes which don’t actually include the Grinch, yet still perfectly articulate his irritation and cynicism, and these scenes are the beginning sequence of the movie, which takes place just after the title card.

These opening scenes and their aesthetics are very important, as they act as an introduction to Whosville, the Whos, and the Whos’ culture, alongside establishing the tone and visual language of the motion picture. And this movie crushes this brief flawlessly. From the beginning, the aesthetics of this film are incredibly immersive in placing the audience within the magical micro-world of Whoville, alongside giving us effective insight into the Who society. The sets are colourful with Christmassy greens, reds and golds. The first Whos we are introduced to are a surreal-feeling marching band playing loud music through the busy streets of Whoville. Every building has Christmas lights and snow-busted Christmas trees, while every Who in the beginning is bursting with energy and vigour. Then we quickly transition inside to a busy store filled with Whos excitedly purchasing gifts. However, these scenes are not warm and fuzzy, like how you would expect a Christmas film to shoot a present-buying scene. Instead, these scenes are overstimulating with loud sound effects of tills opening, clustered camera shots overpopulated with Whos, disorientating Dutch angles, and topped off with a scene where a father struggles to find his own child, who is holding a mountain of presents. We are almost immediately made to feel a degree of discomfort, cynicism and irritation at these scenes, as our visual and auditory senses are being overwhelmed by these scenes of the Whos aggressively buying an over-the-top amount of Christmas presents, while seemingly lacking what makes gift-giving and Christmas in general feel sincere and truly beautiful, which is the process of retrieving gifts that we know will mean a lot or symbolize something about the gift receiver. The scene doesn’t feel like we are watching the Whos affectionately getting gifts for their loved ones; rather, we feel as if we are witnessing the twisted nature of a Christmas shopping trip smothered in commercialism and devoid of sincerity. This is visually illustrated by the fact that when Cindy Lou is holding a large heap of presents, all we can see is mostly the products, as it is the buying, selling and profit linked to the presents which are at the forefront of how the Whos prepare and celebrate Christmas, as outlined in the dialogue between Cindy and her father.

Cindy: “Dad, doesn’t this seem like a bit much?”

Lou Lou: “This is what Christmas is all about.”

Not community or experiencing joyful moments with those you care for, it’s the purchasing of products which is the ‘true’ meaning of Christmas for the Whos. This is pure commercialism, expertly visualised, when profit and commerce overshadow inherent worth, like Christmas's spiritual meaning or artistic integrity. This is irritating to watch, especially within the context of a parent teaching that this is the ‘true’ meaning of Christmas to their child.

After this exchange of dialogue, the opening scenes continue with the till going even faster and faster, with more money going in, and the cashier struggling to keep up with demand. Then we cut to outside the store, where a stampede of Whos are running with presents in hand to another vendor on the call of a Who loudly proclaiming that for the next 5 minutes, there will be a 99% discount on products. It’s chaotic and oozes with cynicism as the aesthetics of the film repeatedly emphasise just how lacking in sincerity the Whos really are with their gift-purchasing, which appears to be motivated by a culture of greed and commercialism rather than care, consideration and altruism.

And this is the exact viewpoint and feelings about the Whos, which the Grinch has. Although not always made explicit within the narrative, the Grinch is annoyed and cynical about the Whos for how they celebrate Christmas because of the effects of commercialism. The Grinch is frustrated by the increasing loudness of their celebrations, which is brought on partly because of the increasingly elaborate decorations and sales promotions which take place around the Christmas period. This is a sign of commercialism as the Whos are prioritising excessive commerce over tradition and quality. Furthermore, the Grinch is cynical of the way the Whos celebrate Christmas because he knows that the Whos don’t really care about or need the gifts they are buying, as so many of them end up going in the trash, which is located within his mountain home. This, too, is a direct consequence of commercialism, the oversaturation of buying and selling beyond its need.

Hence, it is clear that the Grinch, the aesthetics of this movie and the narrative of this film are all working together to consolidate the point that the way the Whos celebrate Christmas is irritating and should be met with cynicism. Ultimately, the message of this motion picture is that commercialism is the false meaning of Christmas, and the true meaning of Christmas is camaraderie and community.

With all that being said, these last few months writing blog posts have been so much fun and have really helped me improve my writing style. I hope to write more blog posts about movie aesthetics within the upcoming year. But for now, there is one thing to say:

 Happy holidays

 Part 1: A Bombastic Bad Banana You Can Root For

Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000), or The Grinch for short, is a motion picture that never holds back. The costuming, the sound, the set design, the performances, the dialogue, and even the prosthetics are all operating at an 11 on the immersive fantasyland-mometer. The movie’s style is the literal definition of ‘with all guns blazing’.

“With great but reckless determination and energy”.

And I love it for that. Every part of this film is the perfect accompaniment for the performance of the titular character, the Grinch, a being who happens also to be consistently coming out with all guns blazing, particularly in his pursuit to ruin Christmas for the Whos. In fact, I would go as far as to say that the movie’s aesthetics act as a mirror image of the Grinch. He can be bombastic, funny and quirky in a charming sense, while also being irritable and cynical at times – just like the aesthetics of this motion picture. To better explore these different aspects of the film’s tone and feel, I’m going to do a deep dive into two parts of the movie, which I believe best illustrate how the aesthetics of The Grinch (2000) reflect, well, The Grinch.

To do this to the best of my abilities, I am going to have to split this blog post into two parts. Within the first section, I am going to be focusing on the bombastic, funny and quirky side of the Grinch and how that is manifested in the look and feel of the scenes where the Grinch enacts his plan to ruin Christmas. Then, in part 2 of my blog post, I will be focusing on how the movie uniquely portrays cynicism and irritation, particularly irritation directed at commercialisation. With all that being said, let’s fully dive in.

A Very Green Santa:

For a film called ‘Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas’, it makes sense that such an elaborate part of the movie would focus on ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’. This segment of the flick literally kicks off with the Grinch doing what he describes as a ‘double-twisting interrupted forward-flying two-and-a-half with a combo tuck and pike’ down into a chimney while dressed as Santa before releasing an eclipse of moths into a Who’s elaborately decorated living room to eat a collection of oversized Christmas stockings. The scenes following this one show a montage of the many cartoonishly evil ways the Grinch is sabotaging Christmas, such as sucking up their presents and even their Christmas trees with a large vacuumous tube and stealing their Christmas feast, which looks like it was made out of plastic. These scenes are bombastic, cartoonish and littered with hilarious lines from the Grinch. And just like in the rest of the film, the lighting is immaculate. The colourful Christmas lights add so much warmth and charm to the Whos’ homes, and the Grinch himself, as the red Christmas lights radiate off his red Santa costume. The lighting even gives him further dimension and colour to his green complexion, which helps him to stand out even when he has his face directly through the middle of a green Christmas tree. The sound is also very well utilised, with the tempo of the backing track increasing when he is being mischievous and decreasing when Cindy Lou Who is on scene as a calming presence, contrasting to the Grinch’s chaotic energy.

It is within these scenes that we arguably see the Grinch at his most extreme, as he is literally breaking into the Whos’ homes with all guns blazing, literally somersaulting down their chimney, to steal all their Christmas decorations and food. Yet we still like the character. Partly this is because of the good character work done through the writing and performance by Jim Carry, but it is also arguably down to the aesthetics matching the feel of the character. The comedic set pieces, the camera work, and the sound all make us as the audience, feel as if we are on this bombastic heist with him; we are a part of the fast-paced action. Which is incredibly exciting and therefore easy to root for.

Furthermore, it is also easy to enjoy the ride of the Grinch stealing from the Whos because the aesthetics of the film don’t dwell on the morality or gravitas of his actions. The Whos' homes are cartoonish, their food looks like plastic, and their decorations are garish and therefore, his actions against the Whos seem to lack severity, as everything he is taking or destroying feels and appears to be artificial and doesn’t hold true meaning for the Whos. On top of that, it is also easy for us to believe as an audience that the Whos do not hold sentimental value to these decorations and food because narratively their take on doing Christmas is purely commerciaised, and therefore they would have probably just bought bigger and shinier decorations next year (if they hadn’t have learned the true meaning of Christmas at the end of the film). Hence, we do not feel sorry for the Whos, as the set design and prop design of these Christmas Decorations and food all lead us to not sympathise with the Whos. Instead, we are meant not to worry about the implications of the Grinch's cartoonish antics and to just enjoy the bombastic ride in all of its glory, with its hilariously comedic set pieces and impressively beautiful festive lighting.

And that’s the power of strong cinema aesthetics that match and support the narrative and nature of the motion people. We can so easily root for the Grinch, even when he is arguably making cruel choices, because both the story and the aesthetics of the movie place the audience within the framework which best highlights the most likeable attributes of the Grinch while creating a non-event out of his less favourable moments. Hence, the aesthetics of the film both match and at times cooperate with the worldview and characterisation of the Grinch.

Not fully convinced on how important aesthetics are when it comes to supporting the narrative and motivations of the main character, well, I leave you with one task then. Just imagine what it would be like if these scenes didn’t have the same cartoonish, fast-paced and colourful aesthetics. If the scenes were cold, dark, realistic and long. I’m sure the tone and feel would be very different, and arguably, it would be a lot harder for audiences to like and still root for the Grinch. But then again, that might just be me.

I look forward to posting part two in time for the Christmas holiday.

Showcasing random aestethics I've curated on pinterest pt1:

Controversially, I have always been a big believer that The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) is the ultimate November Movie. Not to say that those who watch it on the run-up to Halloween or as part of their regular Christmas movie bundle are wrong; at the end of the day, I’m an even bigger believer in diversity of movie-watching habits. If you want to re-watch Shrek in 3D alone while dining out on an elaborately expensive wine and cheese board, you go for it.

Ultimately, I am not here to convince you to stop watching The Nightmare Before Christmas every other month apart from November. Instead, I’m here to simply elaborate on why I believe the aesthetics of The Nightmare Before Christmas lend themselves to being a perfect November flick.

But first, before I fully dive into the aesthetics of the film, I must discuss a little about November itself. November, much like the majority of the film's runtime, is situated between Halloween and Christmas, two massive holidays with unique, iconic and in some ways contradictory aesthetics. Halloween is bombastic, theatrical and macabre. It is a celebration of all things spooky and monstrous. While Christmas is associated with cosiness, peace and wonder. A time to be jolly, watch bright sparkling lights and wait for Santa Claus. In comparison, November doesn’t have a large-scale, fantastical and supernatural-style celebration. Most of the holidays and observances that take place in November are either less decorative (Guy Fawkes Night, Thanksgiving, and Remembrance Day) or are more grounded in religious and cultural practices (Day of the Dead, the potential start of Hanukkah, and sometimes Diwali). Hence, November can often be understood as a transitional period between these two larger holiday periods. A chapter of reflection and change as autumn shifts to winter. And The Nightmare Before Christmas understands this, that November also has a feel to it, a certain aesthetic. An aesthetic that this film is able to perfectly represent, alongside also expertly representing the style of Halloween and Christmas.

Now, that’s enough of boringly banging on about the real world. It’s now the fun part to fully descend into the aesthetics of this movie. To keep it neat, I’m gonna do this in two sections. First, it’ll be how the film encapsulates the aesthetics of Halloween and Christmas, and then the second section will be dedicated to how the film’s aesthetics convey the feel of November.

How does The Nightmare Before Christmas achieve the feel of Halloween and encapsulate the ambience of Christmas?:

The answer to the title question is probably pretty obvious to anyone who has seen the movie. Within the film, our main character literally lives within a place called Halloween Town, and he goes on a journey to Christmas Town. On the surface level, Halloween Town achieves the feel of Halloween by using both dark and light-hearted imagery. The town is dark and has death imagery like gravestones, but it also has glowing orange pumpkins and a large warm moon. Not to mention the theatrical magnificence the town puts on for their pumpkin king ceremony. In contrast, Christmas Town is bursting with Christmassy aesthetics. In the centre, there is a large Christmas tree adorned with sweet little lights. Around the tree is a cluster of quaint little cottages, looking as if they were made out of gingerbread. And everywhere is covered in sparkling soft snow. At points, you can even see the Northern Lights in the background. The set design for both towns is immaculate and does exactly what it says on the tin.

Going a little deeper, the film has been able to represent both holidays so well because it is a stop motion picture, which has given the film an added, creepy yet also charming quality. Halloween Town looks creepier because the buildings are unnaturally shaped with jagged edges, abnormal curvature and windows which appear to be eyes lairing down upon you. And the townsfolk are creepier because of their distance from humankind. Whether that be Jack’s smile becoming impossibly larger than his skull made from clay, the painted-on look of the major’s two faces or seeing the fabric stuffing that filled Sally’s leg – all of these little textual and craft-based details add to the uncomfortable, otherworldly and strange feel of the townsfolk, and by extension the entirety of Halloween Town. Furthermore, Christmas Town looks even more charming because everything looks small and toylike. The set design isn’t trying to look like a realistic set where full-grown actors could prance around on. The candy cane street lights look like you could pick them up with one hand, and that’s delightful. Everything is so dainty and visually delicious. It is a perfect representation of Christmas.

So, there are really two answers to this section's title question ‘How does the movie do it?’. Well, the movie does it through the use of incredible set design and through utilising the benefits of the medium of stop frame animation, such as the lack of a tie to realism. As this is what has given Halloween Town’s architecture and people their distinctly unnatural proportions and look, it is also what has caused Christmas Town to be so unrealistically dainty and cosy.

How does The Nightmare Before Christmas convey the feeling of November?:

One of the most iconic visuals for The Nightmare Before Christmas is the famous spiralling hill in front of the large yellow moon. The first time we see this visual is when Jack, our main character, is walking up it singing ‘Jack's Lament’, a song where he reflects upon his life as the pumpkin king, confessing that he longs for change. As he is singing, you also see glances of Sally hiding in the shadows of an otherwise empty graveyard. She’s connecting to his song, as she, too, is seeking change. The hill is illuminated by the bright moon, a symbol of change and longing, yet the rest of the scene is dark, empty and melancholy. The music and the setting of this scene work amazingly well together to convey that our characters are transitioning from Halloween into November. A time which is more stripped back than Halloween, less bombastic. A period of reflection and transition as the nights become darker. It is a beautiful part of the movie that evokes popular motion picture imagery of a character moving to higher ground to symbolise them going on a journey or attempting to reach a significant goal.

We return to the spiral hill at the end of the movie, this time with Jack and Sally knowingly together. The hill is covered in snow, which twinkles in the moonlight. Our pair are at peace as although Jack couldn’t pull off Christmas, they have gained the change they craved at the beginning of the film, for now they have each other. Again, it is a beautiful scene where we see Jack starting from the bottom of the hill, where he must climb his way up it, serenading Sally before reaching the summit to embrace her. They have made it out of the transition period (November) and have settled with each other as the snow has fallen in late December.

So, how does the film’s aesthetics convey the feeling of November? Simply, the movie’s music, setting and character placements were able to perfectly visualise the character’s feelings of reflection and longing for change. And once that meaningful change had come, the setting also changed from Halloween to Winter, marking an end to our character’s transition period.

In Conclusion:

The Nightmare Before Christmas is a wonderfully stylised film, and whether you watch it in November or never in November, nothing detracts from the wonderfully well-crafted, creepily charming nature the movie continues to have even 32 years after its original release. If anything, the age has only increased the creep and doubled the charm.