Movies About Movies

A rather mundane explanation for set dressing in the 'The Artist' that was so simple that the sets themselves became recognisable from other movies would of course be budget constraints. I personally prefer the notion (which may indeed be true) that this was an intentional stylistic choice, designed to emphasise just how much the movie was honouring its progenitors by aping the results of their often rapid production schedules. Apart from being a sweet update (if that's the word) of 'A Star Is Born', 'The Artist' was many, many things: a celebration of black and white, silent movies and other classic characteristics, a comment on the march of progress & technology, a love letter to the melodramas of the time in which it's set. The film wasn't just a paean to movie-making, but to the power and joy of movies themselves. Twenty-one years ago (really?!) 'Cinema Paradiso' did something similar, contextualising the love and magic of movies in a story about growing up and how our relationships change over time. Bernardo Bertolucci's late masterpiece (imo) 'The Dreamers' excerpted moments from the movies it celebrated immediately after its own characters had recreated them for their own amusement.

Martin Scorsese often shows love for classics in his movies. 'The Age Of Innocence' featured a tracking shot of a painting that served to draw attention to the fact that it was his first film shot in 'scope. I found 'Hugo' pretty dull, but even I could see it suddenly coming to life in its reminiscence of George Méliès. 'Shutter Island' owed more than a little to '50s movies by Robert Aldrich & Stanley Kubrick. 'The Aviator' featured a gorgeous visual conceit whereby each sequence was shot and processed to look like film from the particular time in which it was set, which was why its cinematography changed so much over its running time.

But there's another category of movie that celebrates the power and possibilities of movies in a slightly different way. 'Peeping Tom' was initially reviled for making viewers complicit in the murders being carried out and as a result pretty much ended director Michael Powell's career. 'Strange Days' pastiched this, freely confusing the audiences' experiences with those of the characters, prying us out of our objectivity and immersing us in the world of the movie. 'Atonement' fantastically recreated the turn at the finale of the novel, treating everything beforehand as semi-fictionalised artifice within the context of a greater story that we'd been watching without quite realising. In modern times however, it's Michael Haneke who has done most with this form of self-referential storytelling; with 'Cache' he made us look at and consider the actual act of watching and turned this into a comment on voyeurism. While in the thematically-related 'Funny Games' (both times!) not only did he leave much of the violence intentionally off-screen, forcing us to imagine what was going on, but at one point he allowed one of his characters to break the fourth wall, rewind a few moments and amend the progression of the story, apparently to play with us.

What all of these examples have in common of course is their play with the form. But not only do films like this show their devotion and affection for movies, but for me they inspire me to appreciate the possibilites of cinema just that little bit more.