Pulp Fiction Disproves the 5-Second Rule

      There's a common rule in American film classes that says every shot in a film should last 5 seconds. The reasoning is that if it's any longer it becomes boring and hard to follow. I disagree with this rule completely. Now naturally, my mind goes to artsy directors, like Truffaut, Kubrick, Polanski, Hitchcock and Coppola. I also think of how old movies used to dwell on how beautiful their actresses were, and how beautifully they could be photographed.

      I don't think women before, or since, have been photographed as amazingly. But this is beside the point.

      What I'm talking about is the 5-second rule, and how bullcrap it is. While it's obvious that the aforementioned directors did not adhere to this rule in any sense in their movies, I'd like to make an example of a much more accessible and popular movie.

      In using this movie, I hope to prove that controlled shots with purpose are not JUST for (admittedly) artsy fartsy films for snobby film buffs. A movie can be interesting, accessible, and popular without losing artistic integrity, and in fact, may gain from masterful, thought out camera work and editing.

      Perhaps the most obvious testament to this would be the scene with Marsellus Wallace's monologue to Butch.

            The still angle makes it feel like you're staring at Butch. The red lighting, mixed with Al Green's, "Let's Stay Together," gives it a very surreal, mesmerizing feel. It's very cozy, very pleasing to the senses, and it's like you're in some kind of Nirvana. Strangely, you're extremely relaxed, yet you can still pay attention to Marsellus Wallace's perfectly delivered speech. You listen just as intently as Butch. Can you guess how long the first shot goes on for?

TWO MINUTES AND THIRTEEN SECONDS

      That doesn't just break the 5-second rule. It breaks it, kicks it around, spits on it, talks about it's mama, then leaves it for the buzzards. Yet, somehow, this scene has become iconic among POPULAR culture. Not just film culture. Not just among film buffs, but among a public that wants nothing more than to be entertained. The long camera shot is what cements that mesmerizing feel here, and the scene would not be nearly as effective or memorable, had it cut away every couple of seconds like most filmmakers would have it do. The long shot gives it a very unique flavor. It also serves to make Marsellus seem very powerful and mysterious.

      Another set of notable long shots happens during the famous conversation about the significance of foot massages.

      At 1:32, Jules and Vincent step into an elevator and continue their conversation. This is where the part about foot massages begins. Anyone who's seen this movie, remembers most of this scene very vividly, elevator part included. The elevator shot lasts 36 seconds.

      Why doesn't it bore you, and make you gouge your eyeballs out in a fit of non-stimulation? Could it maybe have something to do with the incredible dialogue? Or perhaps the brilliantly subtle acting? Or maybe the unique (especially at that time) angle? It's like you're in the elevator too, listening to their conversation in person, and as any person of polite society does, you listen intently.

      The following shot starts in the middle of 2:08, and lasts until 4:45, meaning it lasted 2 minutes and 37 seconds before cutting to something else. Granted, it's a tracking shot, but the part that I think is most notable happens around 3:48, where the camera reaches it's final position. It lasts until the end of the shot. The camera stares at Vince and Jules as they talk from a distance, beautifully framed off-center, and with a ray of light coming from the window. The slight movement means that the camera is never at rest, and mixed with the distance, it reminds us that the action is still focused back where the camera is.

      The entire composition serves to make their conversation seem even more intense, while the stare-y feel that seems to be prevalent in this movie allows us to focus on the conversion with impeccable listening ability. Alot of other directors have tried to have unique looks, but can't make it work quite like Tarantino. Other directors put style over substance, yet oddly, Tarantino's style IS the substance. Perhaps I'll write about that some time.

      The above scene is a considerably less obvious example of breaking the 5-second rule. It's also harder to explain. I'll try my best.

      A crowd-pleasing modern director might think, "Slower, steadier, wider shots are calming. Quick, close, shakier shots create tensity." A director on the more artistic side might think, "Slower, wider shots build more tension, especially when contrasted against more comfortable, quick shots." This movie just does what comes naturally, and ends up using both schools of thought in some kind of perfect harmony. 

      The shot is wider, before Jules shoots Flock of Seagulls on the couch. Jules stands dominantly over Brett. There is definitely tension, and seeing all of Brett's body language conveys that. The shot peaks in effectiveness once Jules shoots Flock of Seagulls.

      Now the excitement has picked up. The shots are close, lasting for a few seconds, and the camera moves. It's focused on Jules, and points up at him from down below, because he is focused and menacing. It cuts to Brett, and moves to side, at the same level as Brett, to show how disoriented he is. While the shots are quick, they never last a perfect 5 seconds. At least not intentionally. They cut in a very natural way that perfectly complements what the actors are doing. Sometimes they last a bit longer, like around the time Jules shoots Brett's arm.

      At this point, the shots are wider, increasing the tension yet again, and downing the excitement. However, you don't feel comfortable, because the shots are still a bit speedy, but not as much. They focus on a menacing Jules for while, then quickly cut to a whimpering Brett for a shorter amount of time, then back to Jules, and so on. You know that the action isn't over. 

      

      The shots don't adhere to the 5 second rule. They aren't overly long either. The length of the shots is considerably varied. Like I said before, the shots just do what feels natural, and as a result, every shot is memorable, and every shot is used effectively and efficiently.

      Truthfully, I think every director should feel out scenes rather than come up with equations. Cinema is an art form, and like any art other art form, it should revolve around what comes naturally, what works, and what's pleasing to the senses. It shouldn't revolve around dogma. Directors should be willing, and encouraged, to take liberties, as well as risks, with film. How can the art form evolve if people religiously adhere to stupid rules like the 5-second rule? The short answer: It won't.

NEXT TIME: I TALK ABOUT SOME OTHER THING 

GRAIN OF SALT ARTICLE: "What Makes a Movie Great?" Pt. 1 - CINEMATOGRAPHY

      I think my love of truly great movies started with The Godfather.

      When I was a preteen, somewhere between 10 and 13, I saw this movie in it's entirety for the first time. AMC did this thing called Mob Week where they played all of the classic Mob movies nonstop. I'm not sure if they still do that. I always preferred it to Shark Week. 

      

      I always had heard lots of great things about this movie, and I still do. It's been cemented as a huge part of American culture. I was completely mesmerized by it. I knew that it was something special. It was the first movie I'd ever seen that I was fully immersed in and actually surprised by. It truly hit me. It was so unique and I understood why it had lasted so long. I thought it was the greatest movie of all time. (I don't know if I'd say THAT anymore, but it's definitely up there) 

      After that I began to really wonder what EXACTLY made that movie so special. Why had IT lasted so long, become so famous, and managed to stand the test of time in terms of quality? Why was it that I really hadn't seen a modern movie so great? More specifically, why did it surprise me? No movies I'd seen before were able to catch me off guard so many times, if at all. Why did the disturbing things actually disturbed me? I'd seen my share of gory slasher movies, and I'd never felt disturbed at all.

     

      My initial conclusion: The Camera Angles

      The first thing that struck me about this movie was the look and feel of it, naturally. It LOOKED completely different from anything I'd seen. I noticed that unlike movies I had become accustomed to, it did NOT subscribe to the Spielberg school of thought. There was none of the usual quick-cutting. No hardcore close-ups. The music didn't shove the intended emotion down my throat. It was the first movie that allowed me to take it all in on my own. I thought the reason for that was (only) the controlled, long-held shots at a distance. That was the extent of my understanding of the word, "subtle," and that was how I dictated if a movie was good.

      I realized that THAT was how it managed to surprise me and disturb me and drag me in. It let me see everything, in all of it's untainted natural glory. Where most movies would cut away to reveal that something crazy is about to happen, this movie said, "Nope," and just let it happen, as if you were a bystander. That's how it got you. The visuals simulated the effect of really being there.

      I went through a period where I only thought Mob movies were great, but that idea fell through after I had begun to watch the Rocky movies and Forrest Gump. I sort of fell away from movies for a while, but my idea that visuals were what made a movie great had stayed with me. I'd stayed in that mindset until I saw another movie. A movie that blew my mind all over again and made me really think about movies.

      This movie was the first work of art to make me go, "What does it mean?" unironically. A Clockwork Orange immediately climbed to the top of my list and truly opened the gate for me to start becoming a bit of a film buff. 

      As you can see from the still above, the visuals in this movie are incredibly surreal and very... I'm not sure I can describe what I'm trying to say in words. But this movie made me realize that there's much more to great cinematography than camera angles. 

      The above scene is perhaps one of many great examples for what I'm about to explain. It was just the first one to come to mind. The visuals in this scene are striking, to say the least. But it's every other detail piled in, each complementing one another, that give this scene it's very specific, abstract feel and purpose. The visuals would not be as striking if they were played in normal speed. It would happen to quickly. It's the slow movement that, upon first viewing, gives you a sense of comfort, because it is complemented by Alex's (Malcolm McDowell's) pleasant voice, perfectly delivering the short monologue, all orchestrated to La Gazza Ladra. It's very pleasing to the senses, and the organization with which they walk and how the camera picks that up is stylistic enough to feel like a transition shot at first.

      However, everything comes crashing down around you (in a good way) once Alex finishes his monologue. The scene continues. Immediately, you're thrown for a loop. It suddenly becomes uncomfortable, and before you realize it, Alex preps for the hit, and it connects.

      "But wait!" You may say, "It's still in slow motion and the music is still playing." And it doesn't stop. It's like you're as surprised as Alex's droogs are. Alex has duped us along with them. KUBRICK (the director) has duped us. The music and visuals, which once comforted us, have turned on us, disturbing and shocking us.This is especially true of the music. Classical music is usually pleasant, and soothing, and a joy to listen to. But here, it's twisted, and heavily contrasted against dark, disturbing, violent visuals, to WONDERFUL effect. It not only captures the confusion, but also gives us a twisted insight into Alex's mind.

      THIS IS WHAT CINEMATOGRAPHY IS ALL ABOUT

      Film is a very special audi-visual medium. To me, film is at it's greatest when it does things that only film can do. A Clockwork Orange is great book, but there are so many things done JUST IN THAT SCENE that you could not have written down in any way shape or form. Music alone cannot capture the perfect abstract feeling above, and neither can visuals alone. Cinematography is what gives movies the potential to be so much more than Three-Act Plays with a camera in front of them. In my opinion, it's the most important thing in a movie.

      Anybody else who realizes this might side with me when I say that 2001: A Space Odyssey just might be the greatest movie of all-time. (It's my favorite movie)

      Even if you don't agree, there's no question that 2001 is perhaps the most important movie of all time, as it was the first movie to really assert this idea. It relies ALL on Cinematography. The story alone is not incredibly mind-blowing. But it's the way it is told. It is told in a way that only film can tell a story. Something I truly believe is that, "It's not the story, it's the storyteller." Don't agree? Imagine the Bible, same story, same everything, except Stephanie Meyer wrote it. Does that sound like a masterpiece that has influenced literally BILLIONS of people and lasted for centuries? (Arguably thousands according to some historians)

      We live in an age of what I call, "Objectivists." Even if that term already exists and is used for something else, the way I mean it goes along the lines of, "If it's not progressing something, it's pointless." With that in mind, many people absolutely hate 2001. To them, if it's on screen, it should be progressing the story. But 2001 throws that notion in the garbage, and as a result, you get some of the greatest things to ever happen in the world of art.

      If I already lost you because you're an Objectivist, I ask you to consider the following. Think about the very music that this scene employed. It's a beautiful piece of classical music that has lasted centuries and will definitely continue to share it's beauty with future generations. What does it mean? Where's it going? WHO CARES?! It's beautiful for beauty's sake!

      And that's what this scene is. That's what much of this movie is. Beautiful for beauty's sake. And that's what gives it much of it's effect. If Spielberg had directed this, he would've just shown the very end of the docking. But Kubrick knew what art was about. It's about beauty. There have been many painted versions of The Last Supper, so why do you only know the one that popped into your head? Why do we remember Beethoven and Mozart, but not any of the countless other musicians from their times?

    Because the art is beautiful for beauty's sake. The beauty IS the emotion. It IS the purpose. The sheer beauty and emotion of it all is enough to reaffirm your faith in God! And that's what Cinematography's job is. To make a film beautiful and be all it can be, in special ways that only film can do it. It's because of what film can do, that I honestly DON'T believe that the book is always better. You're gonna tell me The Godfather up there is better as a book? HECK NO! You didn't even read it.

     Sadly, however, movies have reverted, and Cinematography has taken a backseat yet again after hitting a high-point in the '70s. (And as you may have noticed, movies are REALLY REALLY crappy right now.) Every movie coming out looks, in all honesty, pretty ugly. Always with the ugly Digital camera and overuse of CGI. Unappealing. No real character exists in the look of movies anymore. They've become Three-Act Plays again. Except for when someone tries to be edgy and modern and cool, then they have Dutch Angles, Close Ups, and they shake alot. (See: Les Miserables, The Hunger Games,  FREAKING EVERYTHING ELSE) I blame Saving Private Ryan (not that it's bad) and Transformers. (not that it's good)
 
      However, there are certainly still directors out there that recognize the importance of good Cinematography.

      (Note: Snyder has somewhat disappointed me with Man of Steel, but I wanna blame Christopher Nolan for that. We'll see in the future, I suppose.)

      Right now, there is no one single place to look for some great Cinematography. Not Japan. Not Europe. Not even our glorious United States. The good stuff's spread out in tidbits around the globe. (Yes, here included) All I can hope is that I've made a strong enough case here for it that maybe, just maybe, one more person realizes how important it is.

NEXT TIME: THE NEXT MOST THING I CAN THINK OF

      Until then, head to your local movie theatre for more examples of Puke-Inducing cinematography!