Blog post #12: Extra Credit

I had used blogs before RTF 305, one was to keep in touch with my family and friends while I was away during the summer. I had another for an AP English Composition course which we used to turn in our writing assignments and critique other student’s pieces. Using the blog for a class is great, it’s very simple to use, and it’s easy to incorporate examples (i.e. links to articles, pictures, videos, etc.), and I like using them because I am able to keep track of my work. There were really no difficulties which I encountered.

The prompts which I found interesting were ones where I was able to take a piece of media with which I was familiar and analyze and apply it to what we were presently learning: I especially enjoyed analyzing camera angles and the different formats of television shows, blogs number 7 and 8, respectively).  I found others to be less engaging, normally when we were required to write about a concept with no specific direction, such as cultivation theory or globalization. I felt that aside from the short definition, they could be extremely subjective, and I was not always confident in what I was writing.

I would recommend using blogs in the future courses of RTF 305, and other courses as well; they are extremely useful for students and teachers alike. However, in the future, I would recommend more communication through the blogs. I would have liked to see feedback from the TAs on my posts instead of discussing them in our section meetings.

Yes, you can use my blog in a paper or report.

Blog post #11: Globalization

     Globalization is the process by which cultures are gradually integrated with one an other and regional culture slowly becomes subversive to another. This is evident though many different facets: business, music, food, and film. One could say film is where American cultural imperialism is best illustrated. Cultural imperialism, of course, being the promotion of one culture over another, usually a powerful culture over one with less [power].
     All over the world American films can be seen, almost disproportionally over regional films. When I was staying in Ireland over the summer, I went to the local video store, nearly all films on display were American, the ones people were renting were American, and the ones being promoted were, yes, American. I was also taken to a movie theater. The features: Toy Story 3, Twilight, and assorted other American films. Not a single Irish made film or films featuring Irish actors. This would lead one to believe that Ireland does not produce films or have decent actors, but that's not the case. The country actually has produced many actors and directors who are recognized on an international level. However, despite the regional talent, preference is given to "foreign" films (specifically American film). On the Irish Film and Television Academy website there is even a statement referring to the premier of TRON: Legacy (an American film) in Ireland.
     When there is such an overwhelming presence of American film, it's difficult for other countries to establish and maintain a film industry which produces films relevant to their own regional culture.


Here are recent Irish Box office numbers: notice all the the films are of American origin. 

Blog post #10: The Man Your Man Could Smell Like

Advertisements which I find to be especially effective are the recent advertisements of Old Spice. Why are they so effective? They employ a character which women want and which men want to be like. Isaiah Mustafa, now forgetting that his name already sounds inherently awesome, Old Spice is sure to use his sex appeal to draw in a female audience. He is depicted either in only a towel, or shirtless in most incarnations of their advertisements. He even directly addresses women and states he is "the man your man could smell like," insisting that their current significant other smells inferior. By making this assertion, he is made more desirable to women, who at this point must think "yeah, my guy does smell pretty bad--do tell me more mysterious attractive shirtless man." Sex appeal is essential to their message--if their actor was in any way "inferior" in appearance, their message would not be as well received and viewers would be less inclined to listen to their advertisement. Because really, who wants to listen to an unattractive male tell you how to smell nice. Now, another important component of their advertisements is their ability to make men feel inferior, and hence envy the man who uses their product. It creates a fear that if a man cannot do all these amazing things then at least he can smell like the man who does these amazing things, so of course after viewing this commercial every man becomes insecure until they are able to go pick up some Old Spice and smell like a man. The commercials effectively target men because they challenge their masculinity; when a man's masculinity is challenged, they feel a need to prove themselves--in this situation, by buying Old Spice scented body wash. It's like children on a playground: when you relentlessly taunt a child, "I bet you can't go ALL the way across the monkey bars," that child will feel an inherent need to prove the contrary, and have the opportunity to say "I can too!" With men wanting to be this man, and women wanting their man to be this man, it's clear why Old Spice's marketing is affective. It is able to appeal to two different demographics in very vulnerable ways: women with sex appeal, and men with challenges to their masculinity. *It should be noted that after watching this commercial, my brother went to CVS and immediately bought three bottles of Old Spice. Why three? I guess he's extra manly, or....well, never-mind.

Blog Post #9: The three act structure of The Lost Boys

     Professor Ramirez-Berg explained the template for nearly every Hollywood produced movie: the three act structure. Act one sets up the action, act two introduces the conflict, and act three has the conflict and resolution. Of course there are always deviations from this norm, such as the repeat action structure, or the five act structure commonly used for tragedies, but as stated, most films follow the linear three act structure.
     An example of the three-act structure is the film The Lost Boys. The first act, the set-up, quickly explains how Michal, his brother Sam, and his mother have come to live in Santa Clara--the "murder capital of the world," with their grandfather. The first act also introduces Micheal to the vampire gang, and Sam to the vampire hunting Frog Brothers. The first plot point comes when Michael is tricked into drinking blood by David (the perceived leader of the vampires). This action is the first step in turning him into  vampire, and leads into the second act. The conflict arises out of Michael's increasing vampireish tendencies (such as sleeping all day, having no reflection, and his thirst for blood), and Sam's resolution to help change Michael (and eventually other "half-vampires") back to normal. The second plot point comes when Michael leads them to the gang's cave, where the Frog Brothers intend to kill all the vampires, but instead only kill the smallest after his death awakens the others. The third act involves Michael, Sam, and the Frog Brothers preparing for the impending battle with David and the remaining vampires at nightfall. The climax, logically, is said battle in their Santa Clara home. As you can see, Joel Shumacher's The Lost Boys clearly follows the Hollywood three act structure as described in Professor Ramirez-Berg's lecture.

The scene where Sam discovers Michael is a vampire:

Blog Post #8: Episodic Format of Community

The episodic sitcom format affords great freedom to writers and viewers. Shows which implement
this style do not have sweeping seasonal character arcs, and viewers can easily begin watching any show during the season and grasp what is happening in the story. A problem for a character is highlighted for one, sometimes two episodes, then the show moves on to the next plot-line. By the next episode, what happened previously is rarely referenced, and can largely be disregarded as it's not essential to the current episode. Episodes very rarely tie into each other, and each is essentially their own story, they just all utilize the same characters. This gives the writers more opportunity to feature the life of each character and develop their traits whenever they see fit--instead of relying on season-long arcs to reach the same realization. And a viewer can miss an episode, but understand the next. This is not to say that episodic sitcoms cannot feature character growth and development. General stories can be found throughout a season, they are just not the predominant story of the episode.
     One example is the show Community: during the season premier, Chang was trying to get into the study group. He tries to do so for one more episode, then the story is largely dropped.
After this situation, nothing more has been done with Chang trying to earn the groups affection:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=73sdlRGqC6I (It will not embed, so please watch at the link).
His character is given other stories, and the main characters in the study group are more prominently featured. Other examples are Jeff and Brita's/Amy's relationship or Shirley's divorce, both situations were large parts of one story, then quietly referenced in other shows without any development to that specific storyline.

Here is what I find to be a fantastic example of a scene whose consequences will never be mentioned, and if so only in passing:


*Everyone, please watch Community. It's a great show with a unique premise, and I can't have any more of my favorite shows get canceled...seriously."

Blog Post #7: The Camera Work of 28 Days Later

Danny Boyle's 2002 thriller 28 Days Later features incredibly compelling camera work to convey the completely isolated mood of the film. The film begins with an introduction to the "rage" virus. A close up on a television is playing violent news reels, then the camera pans back to reveal multiple televisions with the content, then back further to reveal the subject to which this content is directed--a monkey. The use of reverse shot progression, from specific to general immediately disorients the viewer: they are unsure of what is going on, where they are, why they are being shown this, then the meaning becomes more clear as the scene progresses. Slowly, more information is given via the medium and long shots: the viewer can now see that this is in a lab, and there are cages and cages of monkeys, all very upset. Then the shots revert back to close ups, specifically on the faces and upper bodies of the monkeys, being sure to show them scream and pound their fists against their cage. At this point, the motives of the scene are still uncertain; the shots meant for identification are providing extremely limited insight into the surrounding area, and this confusion sets the tone for the remainder of the film.       

The reverse shot progression is also prominent in the scene immediately following, when the Jim is introduced to the film. An extreme close-up first introduces his face, and then there is a medium shot showing him in a hospital bed, then back to a close up of his face. The alternating shots leave the viewer longing for information: "Why is he in a hospital?" "Is anyone else there?" "What is he doing?" Information is clearly being withheld. As he walks out of the hospital, we see medium shots of Jim walking alone through streets. Through extreme long shots, we can now see that the city is London, and appears to be completely deserted. The leak of information through the reverse progression signifies the complete isolation Jim feels, as he realizes that he is absolutely alone, and the sheer confusion that ultimately arises from this realization.

These are the first six minutes of the film, which show the scene's I'm talking about:

Blog Post #6: Stars of the Studio System

     The studio system dominated Hollywood production from the 20s until the 50s. Unlike today’s system, the studio system involved complete ownership over all aspects of film creation: the actors, writers, producers, and theaters. Having actors on contract was especially important—better actors drew larger audiences. Occasionally these actors were traded between studios, but most often they were exclusive to one specific studio.
      Essentially, studios trained audiences to expect certain types of films when billed with certain actors. When someone saw Judy Garland, Clark Gable, or Humphrey Bogart, listed as a film’s star, they knew what to expect from the movie. This predictability limited the creativity  of the studios—as they could churn out fundamentally identical movies and continue to make a profit—while it also limited the abilities of the stars as they were typecast and shoved into the same role over and over again.
      This is perhaps most apparent over the career of John Wayne. He is now referred to as the quintessential cowboy. Relentlessly, he was cast as the heroic cowboy in westerns. Yes, this did transform him from struggling bit actor to a “star” with the success of “Stagecoach.” Despite the fact that he had made westerns for years prior, his breakthrough film forever relegated him to the role of Hollywood’s cowboy.