More than ever before, cinema is allowing us to reach places previously locked away from our grasp. Reaching into the future, plunging us into new worlds and introducing us to new creatures, films allow us to realise the impossible and experience things which happen only in other lifetimes. With cinematic technology reaching an all time high, no more so in the wake of Douglas Trumbull’s UFOTOG venture, it seems like there may be no place that we cannot go. Following the international and critical success of Gravity last year, it looks like Christopher Nolan is going to go one better; the release of Interstellar has not only been hugely anticipated for what feels like years but also, contains some of the most breathtaking imagery ever to have reached cinematic screens. Looking forward, then, it appears that cinematic thinkers have their eyes very much set on the future, what is to come and the places yet to be discovered by film.
Yet, we are always consumed by our past. The future remains enticing to us because we have little to no way of predicting what is to come. The past, however, is written into the world around us, it is marked in the places that we visit and the books that we read. Everything that we do and everything that we will do happens as a direct result of what has come before. We are the products of our past, or rather, the people from our past.
It is hardly surprising that we continue to be consumed with interest by figures from our cultural heritage. The words and systems which they have left us directly influence the ways by which we live our lives today. But what about what went unsaid in the history books? We can all look up our favourite writer or artist in the library but we can never truly know them. Perhaps this explains our obsession with the biopic. Depicting the lives of our best loved cultural figures, the biopic gives us a tantalising sense of what they could have been like. Strung together from half-remembered stories and tall tales, the biopics of the past are somewhat similar to the gossip columns of today. And, boy, do we love them.
The Elephant Man
David Lynch showed us a very different side of himself in his retelling of the story of The Elephant Man. Casting an unrecognisable John Hurt in the eponymous role, he deviated somewhat from his usual brand of the weird to tell a much more poignant tale. Whilst some claimed that Lynch over sentimentalised the story, it is precisely because of its vulnerability that it has been so lasting. In Hurt’s sensitive rendition of the Elephant Man, the humanity of the man is brought forward. Whilst it is a tale about which the majority of us are familiar, it is in Lynch’s reimagining of his life that we can see elements of truth. And, indeed, the Elephant Man is not always a figure to sentimentalise about; throughout the film, he receives a large amount of interest from the opposite sex. The Elephant Man paints a different side to the story, showing us the multi faceted man as he might well have been.
Amadeus
There’s nothing like a musical diva and there was perhaps no diva quite like the Classical era composer, Mozart. Played initially to ear piercing volume by Tom Hulce, the composer is a figure that we learn to love throughout the film. The film immediately debunks the myth which surrounds Mozart, painting him as a childlike and essentially irritating character, blessed with a fluke gift. However, as time goes on, the character builds and fills out, becoming a real person with real feelings. When we think about Mozart, we think about the composer’s genius and the sound of his music; he has become characterised by his work. In the film, however, we see the struggles of the human behind the genius and the impossibility of retaining an identity past the work. Although highly fictionalised, the film paints a more flawed picture of Mozart, a figure who we can loathe, pity and eventually, love.
I’m Not There
What is it about musicians? Cinematically speaking, they can do no wrong and it is to them whom we look time and again for inspiration. In I’m Not There, Bob Dylan gets the cinematic treatment and it is perhaps no surprise that the film is a little less than conventional. Unlike other biopics, the films strings together a number of different actors to play the man himself. And perhaps that is a more realistic approach. To know someone is not a static, steady process and, indeed, perhaps we can never claim to ‘know’ anybody. Rather, we see flashes of difference in the people whom we know, we watch them change over time and warp around their environment. I’m Not There cannot really claim any sort of cinematic validity. Because of that, it is perhaps the most true portrait of all.
The Social Network
The Social Network showed us perhaps the most famous face from the computer realm in a very different light. Infuriating, mercurial, captivating, Mark Zuckerberg as depicted in David Fincher’s film is one of the most interesting cinematic characters of all time. Whilst we must take many of the events from the film with a large dose of salt, the film works surprisingly in Zuckerberg’s favour. Much of what we had seen of the man was warped behind lines of code and computer jargon. By sensationalising his story, Fincher took Zuckerberg off his technological pedestal. Placing the computer genius on the big screen gave him more life than he could ever have achieved alone. And really, who cares if any of it is true?