Knife in the Water (1962)

Along with Orson Welles' Citizen Kane, David Lynch's Eraserhead, and Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs, Roman Polanski's 1962 film Knife in the Water is considered one of the greatest directorial debuts of all time. Though the story is straightforward enough, the film contains some seemingly peculiar stylistic choices. While not all of these aspects are necessarily expressive in nature (though most of them are) because they deviate from the classical Hollywood narrative, but are likely just the product of a different culture—in this case, Polish culture in the early 1960's. Even with these non-traditional elements (or perhaps even because of them), Polanski is very effective in telling his story.

Knife in the Water tells a fairly simple tale. A married couple, Andrzej and Krystyna are driving out to a lake for a relaxing time in their sailboat when they nearly strike a young man who is hitchhiking in the middle of the road. Immediately, Andrzej's temper flares at the young man's insolence, which certainly foreshadows the tantrums thrown by both of the men later in the film. The couple invites the young man to sail with them, and after spending a stormy night in the cabin of the boat, the two men begin taunting each other when the young man's coveted knife—the knife that seems to be his only possession—is accidentally tossed into the lake where it never be recovered. A scuffle ensues and the young man ends up falling into the water. After the couple does not see him resurface, they assume he has drowned and begin arguing amongst themselves. As Andrzej swims off in anger, the young man returns to the boat and he and the woman copulate. The film closes with the woman trying to convince her husband of her affair with the young man, and his refusing to believe her.

The narrative of Knife in the Water is similar to those of classical Hollywood in that it is simple, but it differs in that there is no clearly defined antagonist or protagonist. Throughout the film, both Andrzej and the young man are capable of filling either role. Also atypical is that the true motives of each of the characters are uncertain, to say the least, which makes the film less predictable and more suspenseful overall. The setting of Knife in the Water is also anything but standard in that it not only takes place almost entirely in one location, but also because that location is a sailboat in the middle of a lake. The isolation of the characters from the rest of society that results from this adds a subtle tension to the story because one gets the sense that anything can happen on this boat and that those on the boat will not necessarily be held legally or socially responsible for their actions. This single setting reflects the minimalistic style of the film, which is also found in many other aspects. One example includes its use of subtitles. There are noticeable gaps in the subtitles wherein whatever the character is saying is presumably supposed to be implied or unimportant enough to garner translation. The non-diegetic music in Knife in the Water is not minimalistic in frequency of use, however it seems to consist solely of a short bit of blaring, saxophone-heavy jazz music that is recycled repeatedly, and in this way its soundtrack as a whole is rather minimalistic.

The camerawork in Knife in the Water is surely its most expressive aspect. Right out of the gate, odd camera angles are noticeably prevalent, such as a shot from behind a person, through their legs, and a shot that seems to be setup on a character's shoulder. Though they are not the same angles that are generally used for this purpose, those shots seem to be a means of expressing Andrzej's psychological strength and overall confidence and the young man's contrasting vulnerability, respectively. Another expressive use of camerawork exists in the somewhat frequent use of a shaky camera, particularly while depicting events on the sailboat. By replicating the effect of being on the boat with the characters, this technique enhances tension by reinforcing the feeling of chaos created by the uncertainty of the characters' motives and intentions. Countering this expressivism but adding to the suspense is Polanski's use of long takes, which convey a sense of real time and space.

While the story of Roman Polanski's 1962 film Knife in the Water takes no genius to comprehend, its departure from the classical Hollywood narrative is found in subtle features such as ambiguous characters and their ambiguous motives, and, really, an ambiguous conclusion. Many stylistic features of the film, particularly expressive camerawork, contribute to its deviation from the norm and reinforce the overall suspense and tension of the film. Without question, Polanski effectively tells his story without resorting to the cliché and stale filmmaking methods of classical Hollywood.

Sequence analysis: Fargo (1996)

In his 1996 film Fargo, director Joel Coen's overall style is predominantly realistic, though, as with most of his films, it also contains expressionistic elements. Virtually every aspect of the film, from shot composition to editing to sound use, conveys a sense of realism, which is clearly what Coen was attempting to create. The few expressionistic elements of the film are quite subtle and might be overlooked with attentive viewing.

The sequence in Fargo in which Police Chief Marge Gunderson's investigation begins occurs relatively near the start of the film. A large portion of the action of the film takes place before this sequence, however, and this action is the reason that Marge is brought into the story in the first place. Before this sequence, William H. Macy's character, Jerry Lundegaard, is seen making a deal with two shady men (played by Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare) in which they will kidnap his wife in exchange for a car. Shortly after this, the two men follow through with this task, and on their way out of town, the men are confronted by a cop, whom they end up killing, along with two men in another car who witness the ordeal. The firstly mentioned sequence follows, and the rest of the film chronicles Marge's laborious piecing together of the crime.

The sequence featuring the beginning of Marge Gunderson's investigation has many functions, including one that is quite crucial. Narrative-wise—and the most important function of the sequence in general—is the introduction of the character of Marge Gunderson. Whether the audience realizes it at the time or not, Marge is not only one of, if not the main character of the film, but also becomes the primary antagonist in the story, hindering the success of Jerry Lundegaard in reaching his goal of making enough money to buy some land, as well as that of the two kidnappers (and eventual murderers).

The primary function of this sequence, however, is one of characterization. Not only does it introduce the character of Marge Gunderson, but it also tells us a few things about her. First, that she is dedicated to her job, as indicated by her willingness to hop out of bed very early in the morning after being called into work. This also shows that there are few others who share her job in the area, which means that she works in a small town. Second, that the job to which she shows dedication is one as a police officer, or, more specifically, a police chief. This is determined by the police uniform she wears, as well the fact that she is investigating a crime scene. Third, that she is pregnant. The shot of her getting out of bed and walking toward the camera, as well the shot of her standing up and walking away from the kitchen table both make this fact very plain. However, if a viewer failed to recognize this from those shots, he or she would then realize it when a wave of morning sickness overcomes Marge while she examines the crime scene.

The sequence also characterizes Marge's husband, Norm, as well as her partner, Lou, to some degree. Norm is seen as very loving of his wife as well as fairly selfless, in that he is willing to wake up when his wife does in order to make her breakfast. Based on the duck carvings and paintings that open the scene, as well as Norm's seeming lack of intent to get out of the house, it is possible to induce that he is some sort of artist who works from home. The sequence also establishes the motif of Norm and Marge's fondness of eating together and lying in bed together, one of which they are doing in every single scene of which they are both a part. As for Lou, though his character is not especially developed or round, the thoughts that he expresses in this sequence portray him as a man of questionable intelligence, which provides a nice contrast to Marge, and emphasizes her smarts.

The mise-en-scène of Fargo—and that of the sequence in which Marge Gunderson begins her investigation—obviously plays a very large role in establishing its realism. The film was shot entirely on location, and this is not difficult to notice with the seemingly endless snow-covered landscape that surrounds every part of the action of the film. In fact, it could be argued that this snow plays at least some role in the development of the plot, as the two men in the car who witness the crime scene of the murder of the police officer likely would not have lost control of their car under normal conditions. Had this been the case, they could very well have reached the police in town before the murderers escaped, and a different story might have developed.

Also in regards to the mise-en-scène of this sequence is the expressions on the actors' faces, particularly those of Marge and Lou. Both are notably deadpan, especially the latter, while the former also communicates a bit more emotion. The props in the scene mostly exist in the Gunderson household, which seems nice enough, though reasonably modest. The props are what one might expect to see in the household of a working-class couple, under which wildlife painters and small-town police chiefs would certainly exist. The costumes that are worn In this sequence are of the same ilk. The fur-lined trooper hats sported by Marge and Lou are sensible, (and, in fact, these hats have gone on to be marketed as Fargo hats) and their preference of economy over convention is pragmatic and therefore it, along with the aforementioned props convey, perhaps even subconsciously, a sense deeper sense of realism.

Another aspect of Fargo that points it in the direction of realism is its extensive use of natural lighting in outdoor scenes and low-key lighting in most indoor scenes. In the sequence in which Marge Gunderson is introduced, the first two scenes, which take place in the Gunderson household, feature fairly dim key-lighting, which reminds the audience that they take place very early in the morning. They both feature use of one or two lightbulbs, and this is a reflection of the (perhaps exaggeratedly) simplistic life that the Gundersons lead. The very next shot is almost blinding compared to the light in their house. From this point on, the lighting in the remainder of the sequence is all natural. Joel Coen needed not to reflect the light of the sun to equally illuminate the scene, because the pervasive snow does the trick. While this use of natural light would be considered realistic, in this case, it could also be perceived as slightly expressionistic in that its extreme brightness and the resulting contrast are symbolic of the innocence of the small town of Brainerd, in which the crimes take place. In fact, upon viewing the murder victims, Marge Gunderson herself states that she would be “very surprised if [the] suspect was from Brainerd.”

This sequence also features one of the very few uses of non-diegetic music in the film. The minute or so of music at the very beginning of the sequence is a reprise from the film's theme, and mostly serves as an aid in the transition from the ghastly murders committed just prior to the warm, pleasant bedroom of the Gundersons. Beyond this, the sound in the remainder of the scene is all diegetic and realistic, consisting primarily of dialogue, as well as some on-screen sound effects, such as a closing door or a speeding car. The first shot of the police car driving down the long stretch of highway as well as the similar last shot of the sequence would be opportune moments to include some upbeat pop/rock songs, and if Fargo was the product of one of many directors who is not Joel Coen, those opportunities may very well have been seized. Luckily, Coen did not add distracting music to these shots, which significantly contributes to the realism of the sequence, along with the film as a whole.

The editing in this sequence of Fargo featuring the introduction of Marge Gunderson is yet another realistic aspect. As is typical with most of the Coen brothers' films, Fargo features predominantly minimalistic editing. The first two shots of the sequence, the first in the Gundersons' bedroom and the second in their kitchen, each consist of a single, long shot with a small amount of camera movement. These long, unobtrusive shots gives the audience a sense of real time and space within the scene. As the sequence progresses, there is a fair amount of shot/reverse shot while Marge and Lou investigate the crime scene, and while they drive away in the police car. However, this is done very tactfully and still in a minimalistic way. The cuts are made only when absolutely necessary, such as when one person in a conversation is too far away to be heard clearly unless a cut is made to a closer shot of them. These two types of shots pretty much entail the variety of different shots in the entire sequence. All of this once again reinforces the realism of the film. Another notable aspect related to the editing in this sequence of Fargo the graphic relationship formed between the very end of the bedroom shot, which is essentially a close-up of Marge's pregnant belly, and the very beginning of the kitchen shot, which ties together Marge's pregnant state and her affinity for eating (which is assumed to be the result the fact that she is with child).

One of the most memorable features of Fargo is the heavy Minnesotan accent that most of the characters possess. While Joel Coen, and his brother Ethan Coen, who co-wrote and produced Fargo, would certainly have the knowledge to make the accent realistic, as they were born and raised in Minnesota, it is generally accepted that the accent is at least slightly exaggerated. The Coen brothers have been criticized for the decision to portray Minnesotans in this manner, but they clearly have a reason for doing so. One simple reason is for comedic effect. The repeated uses of “yeah” pronounced like “yah,” as in “Yahweh,” is funny in a silly way. But the accent could also be considered one of the most expressionistic aspects of the film, albeit a very subtle expressionistic aspect. The seemingly limited vocabulary of those from Brainerd, the fact that those people are always upbeat, and the simple manner in which they speak reflects the simple and somewhat unusual lives that they appear to lead.

Although Joel Coen's 1996 film Fargo is, by most contemporary judgments, a bit strange, it is truly grounded more deeply in reality that most modern films have the courage to be. With almost every aspect of it being overwhelmingly realistic, and a few subtle expressionistic elements scattered throughout, it is not hard to say that Coen's overall style is one of realism, and that it is an especially remarkable film not only due to its quirky and incredibly well-developed characters, but also because of this realism.

Citizen Kane (1941) and There Will Be Blood (2007)

The pursuit of the American Dream (and the cost that accompanies achieving it) has been a theme in many of the greatest works of art of all time, and film is not an exception. While Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood and Orson Welles's Citizen Kane have this exact theme in common, they both convey it in different ways, often using contrasting techniques. One is revered among nearly everyone involved in the production and academia of film, and the other is hardly debated among those crowds today, three years after its release. Surely, though, there is much to both of these films that is worthy of analysis and appreciation.

When Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood was first released in December of 2007, several critics immediately compared it to Orson Welles' 1941 directorial debut, Citizen Kane. Of course, the link between the films to which nearly all of the critics pointed is the similarities between the stories of each film's respective protagonists, Daniel Plainview and Charles Foster Kane. Perhaps the most obvious similarity between the two protagonists is that they represent what can happen when anyone achieves great success, wealth, and influence (i.e., the American Dream): downfall of the soul and total isolation; at the end of There Will Be Blood, Plainview sits in the private bowling alley of his expansive, empty mansion, with blood on his hands and vodka on his breath, and nobody but his butler to hear his utterance of the film's last words: “I'm finished”; at the end of Kane's life, he too is alone in a similarly massive home, sharing his last breath of “Rosebud...” with just his butler (though news of it would quickly spread throughout the land).

There Will Be Blood's Daniel Plainview (played by Daniel Day-Lewis) and Citizen Kane's Charles Foster Kane (played by Orson Welles) essentially fall into their fields of business by luck, mostly. Plainview sets out to be a silver miner but suddenly becomes a self-proclaimed oilman after he accidentally strikes oil. Do not be fooled, though: Plainview works very, very hard to make his eventual fortune, but that luck is what he owes his wealth to, as one can only do so much to increase one's odds of finding silver or oil. Kane is lucky in that he is adopted into money. Of course, once he establishes his place as publisher of the New York Inquirer, he then works hard to gain influence and respect in the community and across the country. Once Plainview and Kane settle into their respective occupations, they both put in an immense amount of effort to escalate to the top of their fields.

The stories of Plainview and Kane are paralleled yet again in that they both make promises to the communities in which they establish themselves. Plainview promises the residents of Little Boston a plethora of improvements to the town that would result from the placement of an oil well there (e.g., schools, roads, irrigation systems, etc.). Kane goes so far as to write out his promises and publish them in his first issue of the Inquirer, under the headline of “Declaration of Principles”. Outside of the stories, the characters of Plainview and Kane share another similarity: they are both loosely based on one or more historical figures. There Will Be Blood is loosely based on the novel Oil! by Upton Sinclair, which is loosely based on the life of oil tycoon Edward Doheny; in a roundabout way, Daniel Plainview is loosely based on the life of the aforementioned Mr. Doheny. The character of Charles Foster Kane, though, is a much more direct representation of the famed newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst. So direct, in fact, that Hearst was very bothered by the existence of Citizen Kane and attempted to block its release.

Ultimately, both Plainview and Kane fall victim to their undying ambitions. Surely this drive brings them their successes, but only because they would not let anything stand in their ways, resulting in many personal, physical, emotional, and psychological sacrifices. Plainview abandons his adopted son (though it is quite clear that his only reason for adopting the boy in the first place is for financial gain), kills the man who falsely claimed to be his brother (though Plainview had established a bond between the man while under the impression that the man was his real brother), succumbs to alcoholism and sheer madness, and generally pushes everyone around him away for reasons he makes very plain with the following line: “There are times when I look at people and I see nothing worth liking. I want to earn enough money that I can get away from everyone.” While Charles Foster Kane is by no means as plainly misanthropic as Daniel Plainview, he ends up in a similar position after his second wife leaves him due to his selfishness and controlling nature.

Without connecting the dots of similarities between Daniel Plainview and Charles Foster Kane, one might would have a difficult time relating There Will Be Blood to Citizen Kane. This is because, formalistically, many aspect of the two films are dissimilar. Ostensibly, Citizen Kane is much more expressionistic than There Will Be Blood, however, after consideration, it is becomes clear that both are more expressionistic than they are realistic, though they both have signficiant strains of realism present as well. Obviously There Will Be Blood is in color, while Citizen Kane is in black and white, but this is most likely due to the cinematic zeitgeist of the times in which each were made. Gregg Toland's cinematography in Citizen Kane was revolutionary at its time and has influenced innumerable films since. His use of deep focus was unparalleled at the time and it contributed significantly to the realism of the film, as it presented people and actions in the way that our eyes perceive people and actions. Another simple and realistic aspect of Citizen Kane is the inclusion of ceilings in the mise-en-scène—the first film to do so. Less innovative (though equally effective) camera angles were also used throughout Citizen Kane, such as low angle shots on Charles Foster Kane and high angle shots on Susan Alexander Kane while they argue about her singing career, making him appear more dominant and her appear more vulnerable and powerless. Shots in Citizen Kane are primarily tightly framed and a shadows are used remarkably well, particularly in scenes such as when Kane writes out his “Declaration of Principles”: Kane is in a shadow when he presents the document, foreshadowing his inevitable betrayal of those principles. Overall, Citizen Kane utilizes low key lighting to great effect.

While Robert Elswit's cinematography in There Will Be Blood might not be as innovative as that of Gregg Toland in Citizen Kane, it is still impressive. Surely the most stark contrast between its photography and that of Citizen Kane is the use of huge, open, widescreen shots that not only showcase the vast expanse of the American frontier, but also reinforce Daniel Plainview's sense of rugged individualism. These breathtaking shots give the film a sense of real space and time because they were clearly filmed on location, as opposed to on a set in a studio. Even in the last couple scenes, which take place in Plainview's massive mansion (a symbol of his great wealth), very wide and very long shots emphasize Plainview's loneliness and isolation within his enormous home. Also contributing to the realism of There Will Be Blood are the long tracking shots used throughout; for example, when the oil derrick gushes (and eventually catches fire), multiple tracking shots are employed to bring the viewer into the very intense and unsettling situation at hand.

Legendary composer Bernard Herrmann's score for Citizen Kane is effective in enhancing the drama in several scenes, including the tensional buildup in the opening sequence that leads to the extinguishment of the light in Charles Foster Kane's house, followed shortly by his utterance of “Rosebud...” and then by his death. Bernard Herrmann's score is also operative in setting and maintaining a perfect tone throughout the film. In general, all of this is achieved very subtly, as the score often goes unnoticed due to the engaging nature of the story unfolding onscreen. In terms of diegetic sound, Orson Welles uses overlapping dialogue very generously throughout the film, especially in scenes such as when Kane first arrives at the offices of the New York Inquirer and it seems as though Mr. Kane, Mr. Bernstein, Mr. Leland, and Mr. Carter are all talking at the same time for several minutes. This technique would eventually become a trademark of Welles's and though it is possibly played up for a slightly humorous end (such as in the aforementioned scene), it is very effective in producing a sense of the real world, in which people by no means take carefully measured turns in conversation.

The soundtrack of There Will Be Blood, composed by Jonny Greenwood, is quite far removed from that of Citizen Kane. Like Kane, though, Blood opens with a powerful and unsettling crescendo of noise in the very beginning of the film, though it is much louder and more noticeable in Blood. That phrase also applies to the respective scores in general, as Greenwood and Anderson clearly intended for the non-diegetic sound of There Will Be Blood to be as noticeable as possible. This is perfectly exemplified in the previously-alluded-to scene involving the oil well gush which deafens Daniel Plainview's son and the subsequent fire: the scene is very hectic and the extremely dissonant pounding of the score literally sounds like a group of people with no musical capability simply making as much noise as possible. In fact, there is an extended portion of the song during which it is very difficult to decipher any sort of tempo. This disconcerting, chaotic music fits well into the scene which involves several tensions (e.g., the audience's concern for Plainview's deafened son, everyone's concern over the fact that money is literally burning away, and Plainview's excitement in learning just how much oil there is under the ground on which he stands).

Yet another important innovation found in Orson Welles's Citizen Kane is the experimental use of montages. In sequences such as the parallel breakfast conversations between Charles Foster Kane and his first wife Emily, a montage is used to juxtapose the fading happiness of the married couple through time. This technique allows for the passing of several years in the story, reducing the film's running time, but without losing any of the significance of the decaying marriage. Welles also experimented with long takes, as seen in many scenes, including that in which Kane's parents sign him over to Mr. Thatcher. Along with the deep focus used in this scene, the long take undoubtedly creates a sense of real time and space.

In the same vein, There Will Be Blood also relies heavily on long takes. Long takes in scenes such as when Daniel Plainview gives his first proposal to the people of a small town, after which he leaves in disgust. The camera is on focused on Plainview's face for nearly the entire duration of the scene, which consists mostly of him talking. As in Citizen Kane, the use of long takes here and elsewhere throughout the film maintain a sense of real time and space passing in the story. Unlike Citizen Kane, however, when Anderson wishes to indicate that a great deal of time has passed in between segments of There Will Be Blood, he simply uses title cards to explicitly state in what year the subsequent scenes take place.

The narrative of Citizen Kane is somewhat complex in that it uses flashbacks to tell most of the story, whereas the narrative of There Will Be Blood is entirely chronological and very straightforward. These narrative techniques tie-in very well to the messages and purposes of each film. The jigsaw puzzles used by Susan Alexander Kane near the end of Citizen Kane are directly made into a metaphor in the last few minutes of the film in order to compare the knowledge of the significance of Charles Foster Kane's dying word as just another piece in the puzzle that comprised the man. Appropriately enough, the film's use of flashbacks not only tell the story effectively, but also take the form of a jigsaw puzzle for the audience in that viewers pick up little bits of information throughout the film, only to discover the final piece at the very end of the film. When the audience realizes how mundane Kane's last word is after nearly two hours of buildup, some might become disillusioned. However, the point of using such a simple, unimportant object such as a sled is stated directly by the reporter Thompson at the end of the film: “I don't think any word can explain a man's life.” Though the audience is taken from Kane's childhood through many parts of his adult life, there are surely aspects to him that cannot be expressed, and Welles is acknowledging just that with this line. Conversely, There Will Be Blood's straightforward tale reflects the unabashed nature of its protagonist, Daniel Plainview. Though the audience sees neither any portion of his childhood nor his death, ironically, more about his life is clear than that of Charles Foster Kane.

Though separated by over 65 years, Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood and Orson Welles's Citizen Kane have remarkably similar themes. While both films warn of the impending doom at the end of the overly ambitious, selfish, and greedy tunnel, they each effect this theme in different manners, and, ultimately, they hold different purposes. The legacy of one has been evident in filmmaking for centuries, while the other one has hardly been released for three years yet. How long will Citizen Kane remain the top choice for greatest film ever, time and time again? Will There Will Be Blood ever be fully appreciated? It is difficult to say. In the words of Daniel Plainview, though, one thing is certain: “I'm finished.”

Alien (1979)

Placing Ridley Scott's 1979 film Alien into a single genre would be discounting its inventive nature. With an aggressive Alien creature onboard a spaceship, many months of travel from Earth, and a crew that is slowly killed off one-by-one, it is no surprise that it has been termed “Jaws in space.” By spanning two standalone genres, Alien breaks conventions of each genre and thereby creates some new conventions of its own in an incredibly unsettling and scary film that is as effective today as it surely was over 30 years ago.

Alien tells the story of seven crew members aboard a commercial towing spaceship named Nostromo. After receiving a mysterious signal from a nearby planet, Captain Dallas takes the crew to investigate the source. While combing the surface, Executive Officer Kane discovers a field laden with large, grotesque eggs; shortly thereafter, a creature leaps out of an egg and onto Kane's helmet and remains latched to his face for several hours, leaving him comatose. The creature suddenly disappears, and Kane seems to be fine until the Alien bursts out of his stomach. The Alien continues killing off crew members one-by-one as they search him out, until only the navigator Lambert, the Chief Engineer Parker, the Warrant Officer Ripley, and the Science Officer Ash remain. Upon learning that the main objective of this journey is to capture the Alien and return it to Earth, Ripley confronts Ash, who proceeds to attack Ripley until Parker decapitates Ash with a fire extinguisher, revealing Ash to be an android, sent to ensure that the Alien is returned to Earth. While trying to get to the shuttle and abandon and destroy Nostromo, Parker and Lambert are finally killed by the Alien, leaving only Ripley, who is successful in killing off the Alien.

Because Alien spans multiple genres, it surely does not abide by the standard conventions of each respective genre. As a horror film (which it is primarily considered to be), Alien features an antagonist, the Alien, that is certainly not groundbreaking. The Alien is almost a stock character in the horror genre—a creature wholly unknown to science—that is seen in movies dating back to 1920's, though the Alien is admittedly more grotesque than, say, Nosferatu. But beyond its slimy, repulsive appearance, the aspect of the Alien that poses the biggest threat to the crew of the Nostromo is its apparent omniscience and undying desire to kill anything and everything with which it comes into contact. This type of monster is found in many horror films, though the physical appearance of the Alien makes it one of the more effective examples. The overall arc of the story—a group of people are stuck in one place where outside help is impossible and are being hunted by an aggressive specimen that cannot be killed using conventional weapons—is also a fairly standard formula within the horror genre.

However, one aspect in which Alien breaks the conventions of the horror genre is its setting: outer-space. Several outer-space horror films would follow after the release of Alien, but it was undoubtedly one of the first. Because Alien is so unlike anything that had been released prior to it, it does not have many icons that harkened back to previous films; however, with three sequels and two spinoffs, as well as throughout film history in general, Alien arguably created some of the most memorable icons of all time—the facehugger, the chestbuster, and Ripley's repeated encounters with the beast.

Although style widely varies throughout the horror genre, few use the film noir style as effectively as Alien. With much dim light, as well as high contrasts (particularly on Nostromo, where seemingly all of the rooms are either completely black or completely white), great use of smoke and fog (especially on the planet on which the Alien is first encountered), and a fair amount of shadow play, Alien effects an almost constantly creepy atmosphere that becomes one of its strongest assets.

One of the most important elements of Alien is it that it crosses many boundaries genre-wise. The sheer fact that it takes place in outer-space and involves several interactions with an alien creature is practically enough to make the argument that it is a science fiction film. Also supporting that stance is that it involves some technology that did not and does not exist in the present (though its not all that implausible) and the sentient computer system (“Mother” in Alien) that has ulterior motives unbeknownst to the crew members calls back to Stanley Kubrick's science fiction classic 2001: A Space Odyssey and is seen again as recently as last year in Duncan Jones' Moon. However, due to the violent nature of the Alien as well as the many scenes which are clearly intended to scare the audience, the opposing argument (that Alien fits more comfortably into the horror genre) is more logical and generally more widely accepted.

By slapping two fairly distinctive genres together, Ridley Scott achieves a remarkable feat of filmmaking with Alien. As a film that crosses more than one genre boundary, Alien creates some conventions of its own and still exists as a distinctive film that has stood the test of time.

About this blog

The first several posts I make here will be film-related essays I have written as assignments for classes, and I do not necessarily stand by their content. Past those, I plan to post reviews of films current and classic (mostly the latter) and other writings on topics that interest me. Most things I post will likely contain spoilers, so be warned.

That's all for now.