In the documentary film, The Graduates (2013), director Bernardo Ruiz and editor Carla Gutierrez formed not only an informative, but an artistic film. The Graduates details the lives of six Latino, high school seniors and how they achieved their goal—to graduate—when faced with social expectations, educational limitations, and personal struggles.
Throughout the first segment, viewers follow the stories of three young women who not only have to deal the stigmatized role of their race, which has severely affected their school systems, but the personal hardships in the form of teen pregnancy, homelessness, and gang violence. The remarkable editing of the film weaves all three stories together; the past, present, and the future that each one aspires to is all told simultaneously. However, instead of the solely direct and upfront approach that some documentaries take, The Graduates takes the informative message and crosses over into the artistic side of film. One instance of the film’s figurative portrayal of the issue at hand can be seen in the intermingled shots of birds in the first segment. These shots symbolize not only the girls’ instinct to drop out and financially support their families, but also their desire to fly off, find themselves, and succeed. A particular shot shows a number of birds on power lines and what grabs the viewers’ attention is that the mass of birds does not fly off together, only a few do while the majority remain in place. This shot is beautiful, and telling, because it shows how the girls and boys in the film are making a difference and defying the social limitations impressed upon their race. In short, the girls are flying up and above the low expectations placed upon them by society. At another point in the film, one of the parents expresses the emotional heartache of not seeing their child spread her wings.
One of the girls, Darlene, became pregnant and now has a young son. As Darlene arrives at her mother’s home, the mother is happy to see her daughter and grandson, but once the interview with Darlene’s mother begins, the happy front begins to dissolve. In this shot, the editor includes the long and heavy seconds of silent footage as viewers see a tear roll down the mother’s face. The editor could have skipped over this part and cut to the dialogue, but the impact would have been lost. The shot shows viewers, up close and personal, the true emotion of the situation, which holds a strong presence and may even be more moving than the mother’s words.
All in all, through meticulous choices in the editing process, viewers not only learn about the major issues faced by Latino youth, but see and feel the effects of the situation along with them.
Monthly Archives: April 2014
Pulp Fiction (1994): The Forbidden Apple of Film
Quentin Tarantino’s famous movie, Pulp Fiction (1994), starts off with the definition of “pulp /‘pəlp/ n. 1. A soft, moist, shapeless mass of matter. 2. A magazine or book containing lurid subject matter and being characteristically printed on rough, unfinished paper” from the American Heritage Dictionary, New College Edition. The film itself lives up to both of these definitions, as its various narratives and genres do not give the film a definitive place in the norms of cinema while its presentation of extraordinary clippets from each character’s day to day life are ultimately left unfinished. The key to Tarantino’s film is its ability to touch on several different genres in a new, exciting, and unnerving light, all surmounting to a major hybrid genre.
In the very first scene, the film employs in medias res, showing viewers a crime drama surrounding a couple who appear to be the archetypal Bonnie and Clyde. The couple both tease and praise one another, finally resolving to rob the diner where they are currently eating. However, before the result of this spontaneous crime can be discovered, the film turns to Jules Winnfield and Vincent Vega. As Winnfield and Vega discuss burgers, the metric system, and Europe, the pair seem like normal partners, possibly law enforcement or body guards. Once the pair get out of the car and move to the trunk, the audience realizes that Winnfield and Vega are actually assassins for an allegedly possessive and powerful man named Marsellus Wallace. The film has now taken on that of a dark comedy with this new addition of the gangster genre. The assassins, the mysterious suitcase with gold inside of it, Wallace’s seeming power of persuasion with Butch, along with Wallace’s properties–a night club and a humongous mansion–are all patterns and icons of the gangster film genre. Furthermore, the first appearance of Wallace mirrors that of Don Vito in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather (1972).
The film goes on into the depths of addiction as Vincent Vega both begins and ends his night accompanying Mia Wallace, the boss’s wife, with drugs. Sandwiched between the addiction is a touch of romantic comedy as the two get to know one another. The iconic imagery of the past that encompasses the nostalgic restaurant where the two have dinner, reiterates Tarantino’s film as a tribute to past cinematic classics, but ultimately holding within it something new and inventive: Vincent and Mia.
In the very next narrative, Butch’s past is explored in the light of the war genre, with a notable nod to animation in the television show young Butch is watching. As Captain Koons takes the young Butch through Butch’s ancestry of warriors and the importance of his great grandfather’s golden watch, dark comedy reappears once again in the awkward inclusion of where Butch’s father hid the watch during his imprisonment in a prisoner-of-war camp. As the film moves into Butch’s present situation, the sports genre including the determined and prideful boxer–reminiscent of On the Waterfront (1954), Rocky (1976) and The Raging Bull (1980)–take hold as Butch defies Wallace and not only wins the fight but kills his opponent in the process.
After Butch safely retrieves his great grandfather’s watch, killing Vega in the process, he feels that he has achieved a clean getaway. However, after seeing Wallace on the street and subsequently running him down, Butch and Wallace are both physically injured from the iconic, action-movie car crash. Ending up in a pawn shop, the plot takes a dark turn into the horror genre with the iconic image of a rapist hillbilly that had been previously reinforced by horror films such as Deliverance (1972). Butch ends up rescuing Wallace, which resolves their dispute on the terms that Butch must never return to Los Angeles.
Once again, the movie turns back to dark humor, going back in time, as Vega accidentally shoots Marvin. The two assassins now face the threat of imprisonment, since their car is covered in brain matter and blood. Taking safe haven in the home of Jimmie, Winnfield and Vega face yet another problem: Bonnie. Bonnie, Jimmie’s wife, is coming home soon and will divorce him if she finds out Jimmie is harboring his friend, Winnfield, a murderer, in their home. Through mise-en-scène, the reputation of the pair of assassins is transformed from its former, professional state to bloody suits that show their sloppy imperfections, ultimately dressed in comical and dorky clothes of Jimmie.
Finally, the ending scene shows Winnfield and Vega having breakfast at a diner…the same diner that the Bonnie and Clyde couple are about to rob. After discussing and disputing divine intervention and its role in Winnfield and Vega’s miraculous survival of five gunshots, the story is brought full circle. As Winnfield believes the event was God’s doing, he states that he will now quit the business and let God guide him into his proper place. On an overall scope, the final moments of the movie make Winnfield the central character, who goes through trials and finally finds redemption through sacrifice. As Tarantino works in this hero aspect, Winnfield does not die, but gives the criminal couple mercy–something he never does–while putting down his pride, willingly giving the couple fifteen hundred dollars.
Quentin Tarantino’s 1994 film, Pulp Fiction, strings together several different plots and narratives through dark comedy and other genres, creating a hybrid genre. If one had to name this hybrid genre, it could simply be called the film genre. Tarantino’s goal in Pulp Fiction is to show the effects of film on the audience; how viewers continually care about and are entertained by, situations regenerated in new and astonishing ways, which is the essence of film.
Defining Max Fischer: Rushmore (1998), Wes Anderson
Wes Anderson’s dark comedy, Rushmore (1998), revolves around an ambitious, lovesick, young boy who wants to make a name for himself. As fifteen-year old Max Fischer struggles between conforming to social norms and defining his own identity, Rosemary Cross becomes the object of his desire. Not only does Rosemary represent a way for Max to gain the acceptance of his male peers through sexual deeds, but Rosemary also serves to fill the compassionate maternal role that is critical to Max’s identity.
Even though Max was accepted into Rushmore, he has not yet been accepted into Rushmore’s social system, as he is usually left uninvited to parties and daydreams of being praised by his peers as a genius. In the very beginning of the film, Max’s impressive involvement in the clubs at his school sharply contrasts his failing grades. The two factors not only serve as an example of Max’s attempted conformity–interaction over education–but of Max’s search for an identity.
One day, while reading a library book on underwater adventures, Max stumbles upon a note that quotes Jacques-Yves Cousteau, “‘when one man, for whatever reason, has the opportunity to lead an extraordinary life, he has no right to keep it to himself.’” This quote fits Max perfectly, as he is known to succeed and share it with others–through his creation of numerous clubs–rather than be content with, or even find appealing, the personal success that comes with getting good grades. Tracking down the book’s previous owner, Rosemary, Max is automatically head over heels when he catches sight of her.
Right after meeting Rosemary, Max hangs off of her every word and even reverses his victorious banishment on Latin because he misconstrues the language’s importance to her. Max also tries to win Rosemary’s favor by transforming the baseball field into an aquarium–which ultimately gets him expelled and strips Max of the remaining piece of his identity: Rushmore. Through these acts of misplaced charity alongside those of destruction–Max’s jealousy of Rosemary’s former Harvard classmate and his foiling of the relationship between Rosemary and Mr. Blume–Max’s sexual desire for Rosemary is apparent throughout the film. However, his maternal need is less apparent; this is because Max does not consciously realize it. As the film goes on Max becomes depressed at one point, leaving public school and resigning to take his place as the son of a barber–this is the lowest point for Max’s identity.
Through tiny steps that begin with regaining his trustworthy and true friend Dirk, Max, by the end of the film, gains the support of his peers through his war play and even starts a romantic relationship with one of his classmates. As the film closes, Rosemary congratulates Max and they share a dance, signifying the compassionate and maternal role that Rosemary has taken in Max’s life.
The Overlook Hotel is Not to be Overlooked: The Shining (1980), Stanley Kubrick
Stanley Kubrick’s psychologically-overbearing horror film, The Shining (1980), has been loved and hated, and hated and loved, by viewers ever since its release. One of the major themes of the film is identity, which is explored through Jack Torrance with the assistance of the head chef Dick Hallorann. In addition to the dynamics of the narrative, Kubrick also employs several technical aspects of cinematography to heighten the intensity of the theme.
Jack Torrance, a former teacher, and struggling writer, agrees to take the job as caretaker of Overlook Hotel from October to May. Jack goes into the job believing it will release him of the strain that has accompanied the physical labor of his odd jobs and allow his mind to recharge and write. But how can an author create deep, resonating characters when he is losing sight of his own identity?
When taking a tour of the hotel with his new employers and wife, the couple are always in the middle in terms of blocking, with Jack’s wife in front of him.

The shots not only foreshadow the mystery of the hotel that the husband and wife are currently being safeguarded from–by the hotel managers–but Jack’s position behind his wife and his new boss imply that Jack has not gained the confidence to take charge and make decisions.
Once the head chef of the hotel, Dick Hallorann, is introduced, it becomes clear that Dick immediately knows how to connect with Jack’s wife and son, as he asks Wendy if Winifred is for “Winnie” or “Freddie”–automatically trying to pinpoint which nickname she identifies with. Danny, Jack’s son, has an even closer connection with Dick due to their special psychic abilities. During the conversation between Dick and Danny in the storage room, Danny slowly starts to open up to Dick, whereas the only other scene involving Danny alone with a male character is when he speaks to his father and questions his father’s intentions. Dick ultimately serves as a foil to Jack and exerts evermore care and concern for Danny throughout the film as Jack’s diminishes.
The onscreen space of the shots, specifically of the lounge where Jack chooses to begin his writing, further the feeling of solitude and take away from Jack’s overall personality and character as it gets lost in the shot.

In addition, several shots that portray Jack through a mirror also emphasize this point, because even though viewers see through the mirror, Jack never actually looks at himself, like his reflection is not there or unrecognizable.
The final scene of the film, which reframes from a view of the hotel’s main hall to a picture of a ballroom party from July 4th, 1921, solidifies Jack’s permanent loss of identity. Jack, who has now passed away from exposure in the hotel maze, is at the bottom center of the picture. The picture appears to change and add a new face every time someone dies, but that is not the case. Dick, who was killed by Jack, is not in the picture. Dick’s absence combined with the ironic date–the day of independence–drive the point home: Jack has been stripped of his identity, succumbing to and becoming apart of, the Overlook Hotel.

