Django Unchained International Trailer: Marketing (and Exploiting) Tarentino’s Signature Style

I love Tarentino films, despite their trailers, which emphasize the visual pleasures of his style but miss the sublimity and substance of his films. (Perhaps that’s an impossible expectation for a trailer?) Hearing of the Django Unchained trailer (above) for the December 2012 release, I thought I’d use this post to understand why.

[Note: I’m writing of the International “official” trailer rather than the official trailer for domestic audiences. One is a close variation of the other, in terms of shot selection, music cues, and editing, although insofar as the international trailer better confirms my biases, it’s that which I consider here.]

Mining the “justified revenge” thematic and vigilante generic vein first opened by Kill Bill, and further explored in Inglorious Basterds, Tarentino, in Django Unchained, tells the story of an African American Slave (Django, played by Jamie Foxx) who accompanies a white bounty hunter (Christian Waltz) into the ante-bellum South in pursuit of fugitives, to rescue his wife (Kerry Washington) and to exact revenge.

To the pantheon of victim turned rampaging vigilante, Tarentino has added a black male slave to such enduring types as the ill-used woman (The pregnant, left for dead Bride) and the European Jew (Shoshanna) under Nazi rule. Given the context and the horrors endured by his protagonists, their subsequent, remorseless, and triumphant bloodletting is sanctioned and celebrated, with audiences invited to glory in violent, even excessive retribution. Tarentino’s gift, or habit perhaps, is an ability to usher his audience along the passage from shocked spectator to applauding and complicit participant in torture, mayhem and bloodlust. Yet for all its guilty pleasure– the moral complication and emotional ambivalence of one’s spectatorial position– a journey that begins in grindhouse locales often ends in instructive, affective and even transcendent precincts.

The trailer, for its part, lacks the time and the dramatic opportunity to fully engage either the horror of victimization or the nihilism of rampaging revenge. Though replete with story, characters, spectacle and generic pleasures, trailers for Kill Bill, Inglorious Basterds and now Django Unchained tread the shallow waters of exploitation, displaying their appealing and appalling materials but neither elevating nor transcending them. I assume that this is a result of the trailer formula itself, a short-form film format that is always already artificial, self-conscious and mannered in style. When you’re advertising and “previewing” a film whose style is similar stagey and “over the top” (as are the Tarentino films noted above), the ascend from parody to irony, from camp to melodrama, or from comedy to tragedy becomes well-nigh impossible.

But enough about what the trailer may be incapable of. Let’s consider, instead some of those things it does well. Once again, Johnny Cash is tapped for a music cue. Opening on a chained group of escaped slaves, Cash’s gravel-throated baritone delivers an instant and generous dollop of authenticity, singing the American roots gospel standard, “There ain’t no grave.” The lyrics both comment on escape and transcendence, as subjects of the film, while connecting to a religious faith and cultural practice that supplies narrative context.

After bounty hunter Waltz rescues Django and explains his bargain–Django is to identity the notorious Brittle (sic?) Brothers, in exchange for his freedom and help finding and liberating his wife, who the Brittle brothers sold to an unknown buyer–the two join forces. Initiating the second half of the trailer as a road and buddy film montage of extra-judicial murder, James Brown’s “Payback” is the chosen cue. When it kicks in, the trailer gains an upbeat cue that drives the editing, transforms the sensibility and explores, lyrically, the revenge theme.

I wanted to point out a sustained example of rhythmic cutting to the funky, syncopated beat of “Payback,” especially notable from 1:25 (or so) to 1:42. Gun shots, cast cards, screams and yells, whips, explosions, toasts, falling hats–are all choreographed to the music. It’s fun: you can dance to it, and yet, beneath the music-video charm, we see scenes of battle, cold-blooded murder and general bloodlust, represented by the red-wash over the cast-cards.
Such is the power of music to emphasize emotion and substance or to sublimate it. In this case, the latter occurs, with hip-shaking, foot-stomping, head-nodding good times abstracted and extracted from harrowing experience and brutal practice.

[Notably, There’s a striking image, of a spray of blood from a hapless target, that showers a field of white, cotton flowers, the crop most identified with American slavery, now nourished with the blood of the slaveholder rather than his human chattel.)

Renowned feature film editor Walter Murch insists that the ideal cut (in features, that is) is true to the emotion of the moment, advances the story, occurs at a rhythmically interesting moment, acknowledges eye trace, respects the translation of a 3 dimensional scene to the 2 dimensions of film and respects the 3-D continuity of space. [See:

, p. 18] Trailer editing clearly has a different set of priorities, whereby rhythm and eye trace frequently upend and rival–if not displace– emotion and storytelling in the original feature, in order to tell and sell another story to the potentially ticket-buying audience.

In the example above (1:25-1:42), the trailer uses music to sell the Tarentino sensibility and style, the bigger-than-life, fabulistic quality of his films, over the clearly serious and complex emotional substance of the film itself. Even the graphic design–in which title cards, copy cards (“The Chains Come Off”) and cast-card are washed in blood red–speak to the expectations that come with this director, and to which audiences respond passionately.

Django, like Kill Bill, or Inglorious Basterds, may be a cinematic masterpiece; it certainly has the stars, the subject matter, the directorial (and cinematographic and editorial) talent for that eventuality. But that is not what the Weinstein company appears to believe is the best way to represent the film as a commercial product. For that, it’s exploitation –sensation, quips, gun-play, sentiment, and lots and lots of blood–all the way.

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Total Recall (2012) Trailer: Anxieties of Influence

Among the many challenges involved in remaking an iconic film, not the least is creating the trailer and positioning the film vis a vis its original. Beyond the always demanding job of engaging unfamiliar or uninvested audiences in the movie on offer, there’s the trickier task of assuring original fans of the reverence with which the new film has been made.

I am not alone, it appears, in considering the 2012 remake of Total Recall (1990) to be an invitation to examine its trailer. Indeed, alongside the official trailer (above) on Youtube, two 3+ minutes appreciations of the new film and its trailer appear, fronted by hyper-active fan surrogates and movie-review personalities Grace Randolph, at Beyond the Trailer: Movie Bytes, and Jeremy Jahns of Jeremy Jahns Trailer Reviews. Randolph’s is the more thoughtful and content rich comparison, but both express ambivalence about the new version, although they take pains to welcome its release, in the best spirit of show-biz comity.

As is often the case with trailer sites and trailer reviews, commentators look past the trailer as a worthy subject of inquiry and attention, to the film it heralds. In the post that follows, I’ll be focusing on the trailer as a trailer, assessing its formal and expressive qualities in order to appreciate how it meets the marketing challenge of its feature film.

OVERVIEW:
The trailer opens on protagonist Quaid (Colin Farrell), waking from a nightmare and being comforted by his wife, Lori (Kate Beckinsale). Cut to Quaid staring into an futuristic, urban landscape, shot in blue-grey tones. Next, we find him at a bar with his buddy, Harry (Bokeem Woodbine), asking the kind of existential questions that explain his subsequent visit to the Rekall Corporation, against Harry’s explicit advice not to “mess with your mind.”

At Rekall, McClane (John Cho) explains the “memory implantation” operation which Quaid is to undergo. Unfortunately, the procedure goes awry in spectacular fashion. Cho brandishes a gun, screaming “who sent you,” as police storm troopers enter, killing everyone but Quaid who they arrest, despite his convincing pleas that there’s been some mistake. Whereupon, with the twitch of an eye, his newly implanted secret-agent persona takes over and he dispatches 10 armed and armored antagonists in a choreographed martial arts action sequence. Shocked at his own unfamiliar and lethal behavior, he throws down the gun and flees.

The words, “THIS SUMMER” appear on screen, as we cut to a city scape traversed by hover-craft and elevated expressways. Lori, is seen at the wheel of a vehicle, glaring menacingly like the villain she is, and next in a scene of domestic hand-to-hand combat with Quaid, who asks, “Why are you trying to kill me?” Her answer, “your memory was erased. Your mind was implanted with a life you think you’ve lived,” explains how events have come to this pass. She attacks yet again and Quaid leaps from their apartment balcony, crashing through an adjacent roof.

He is picked up by Melina (Jessica Biel), who claims to have been looking everywhere for him. (Her role is unclear, but she’s an ally, occupying an “outlaw” position as well.) He is chased by the storm-trooper cops and Lori, who operates alongside them, in a succession of fire and fist fights, within an urban, futuristic landscape.

Amidst spectacular special effects/CGI, choreographed fights and chases, the question quaid must answer, assuming he can survive, is tersely expressed in two copy cards, “WHAT IS REAL” followed by “WHAT IS RECALL?” After Quaid and Melina endure a harrowing, but gorgeous, vertical crash in their hover craft, the title, using the same block, metallic silver font, appears, followed by a button in which Quaid asks the all-important question, “If I’m not me, then who the hell am I,” To which Vilos (Bryan Cranston) responds with understatement, “you don’t have the most reliable memory, do you?” Cut to Quaid whose face morphs through a series of other visages before returning to his own. SUMMER and the website url occupy the final graphic card.

EDITING:
While rhythm is an essential component of effective editing, in this trailer, it becomes the defining quality. In a preview stocked with punches, kicks, falls, shatterings, collisions and automatic gun fire, the editing establishes a steady beat that’s regularly punctuated by staccato bursts of strobing light and images. For these pulses of visual information, the cuts are measured in frames rather than the seconds.

And Whereas in the opening, attention and eye trace is directed left (toward the past) and right (the future), with the initiating action sequence defined by its wraparound camera work and editing, in the second half of the trailer, up and down movements implying gravity and weightlessness predominate. Dropping, spinning, falling, plunging, bouncing, climbing and floating upward characterize and distinguish the visual presentation.

MUSIC/SOUND DESIGN
Synthetic and percussive, the soundscape translates diegetic elements into non-diegetic sounds that build suspense, underlines action and enhances excitement. Bullets and punches are scored as drum beats; motion as snares and cymbals played with sticks or brushes. Bass notes, warped and distorted as necessary, provide a steady beat and a tempo for the sound. There is no melody or harmony, to speak of, and the soundscape is urban, industrial, hypnotic and not-remotely natural.

STORY/COPY
Conflict and character in the film are conveyed chiefly by dialogue, with a spare copy treatment establishing the philosophical stakes. From Lori, Quaid learns what has happened to him–he’s been implanted with a memory not his own, which presumably, makes him a target of the security services. From Vilos, he learns that his memory is unreliable. The copy raises the metaphysical problem of mind and memory, more as a “cool” paradox than as a tangible subject for inquiry. (Reality vs. Recall or memory) The original film trailer foregrounded these issues and explored them at length, as I mentioned in last week’s post.

MOOD/TONE
Whereas the original film and its trailer emphasized the fun, mad-house quality of the source material and its on-screen realization, this film and its trailer appear to take themselves and their subjects very seriously. Sober, anxious and un-ironic, there are no jokes in this film, no quips or put-downs. It seems as if, in style and sensibility, this film thinks of Blade Runner as its progenitor, rather than its 1990 original.

REMARKS:
The trailer has a tricky path to pick out, between signalling relationship to its original and asserting its difference. By using dialogue, nearly identical to that in the original trailer–Lori’s, “your mind was erased…” and Quaid’s “If I’m not me…” this trailer explains Quaids situation, while quoting the iconic movie and rewarding its legions of loyal fans. The scene of Farrell undergoing the ReKall implantation is nearly identical to that of Schwarzenegger, as you can see in the key art photos of the two shots. Here, the trailer is quoting visual language from the original, and honoring the connection.

And yet, in many ways this trailer positions its film as a very different experience. One in which action, rather than metaphysics or political rebellion, is preeminent. In style, it also aspires to a look in keeping with its 200M budget, by which I mean cool, sleek, and expensive. There is enormous competition at the high end this summer, and Total Recall suggests that it can deliver the spectacle required.

Farrell in the role of Quaid represents a signal departure from the original, and probably as necessary one, since how would you fill the Guvernator‘s shoes? He plays it as an everyman, for which his physique and acting chops are better suited, displaying through dynamic and unfixed facial features the quality of his confusion and the absence of certainty in his own identity. The final scene where his face morphs takes his twitches and double takes of surprise and confusion to their ultimate extension.

Lastly, and this is my final comment, I wanted to offer an interpretation of the images of falling, rising and floating that preponderate in the back-end of the trailer. Apart from the pleasure of such vertiginous visuals and virtuoso graphic editing, it seems to me that weightlessness serves here as a literal manifestation of the metaphysical situation of our protagonist. Untethered to his past, he is freed of the gravitational pull of obligation and experience, light in the air and without inertia, able to bounce and recover. Yet the flipside of that freedom is the terror of rootlessness, of an ungrounded identity, impermanent and unfixed, in danger of floating away. Presumably, Melina will tie him down, as it were, to the insurgency in which she fights. For our needs, out in the audience, the trailer does an admirable job of explaining psychological concerns of the film using the most economical means possible, images from the film itself.

Like its predecessor trailer, this too is a superb piece of cinematic and marketing craft. Let’s hope the film holds up its end.

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Do you recall TOTAL RECALL (1990) and its memorable trailer?

In anticipation of the remake of Total Recall (2012), starring Colin Farrell and Kate Beckinsale reprising roles immortalized by Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sharon Stone, I reviewed the official trailer for the 1990 release, suspecting that that expensive, influential and critically acclaimed film would have had an interesting trailer. It does.

Next week, I’ll review the trailer for this summer’s remake (also memorable), and then–perhaps in a 3rd post–compare the high-profile, big-budget, distinguished and spectacular previews, released 22 years apart.

Overview:
The trailer opens with the Carolco logo which morphs into the brightest star in a star field backdrop, into which the apparently disembodied head of Arnold, first seen supine and in profile slowly turns toward and then down away from the viewer, with whom his eyes engage until the angle breaks the connection. Beneath him, the red surface of Mars appear as we fly toward a black triangle just over the horizon. As this happens, a restrained and measured narration intones: “Your mind / it is the center of your body / it is everything you hear / everything you see / everything you feel. /It is everything you are. / How would you know if someone stole your mind?” We don’t see this kind of copy much anymore, lines that pose the “idea” of the film in terms that are at once “metaphysical” and deeply personal.

These first 30 seconds appear to be an homage to 2001: A Space Odyssey, and a bit of a parody, given that Arnold’s head stands in for the rotating bone / space station. However, the film, as represented in the trailer, is not the sublime and sober sci-fi vehicle that this opening predicts, but an unapologetically action spectacular with an involved and involving plot, comic beats and memorable punch lines.

AFter the graphically ambitious and philosophically portentous opening, we fall into the kinetic, incrementally futuristic world of the movie, featuring animatronic disguises, 21st century gadgets and technology, a Martian colony, a confused hero and a couple of relevant existential questions thrown in for good measure. Depicting the frustrations of Quaid’s situation and the emphasizing the conflicts to which it gives rise, consumes the rest of the trailer. Although resolution is not-specified, armed and active resistance appears to be Quaid’s best hope.

After the opening V.O., there is no further copy, until Schwarzenegger’s credit and the (two–count ’em) “Total Recall” title cards. Thereafter, filmed dialogue explains the plot: Doug Quaid’s (Schwarzenegger) memory has been erased and that of another man–one with an incredible set of skills and abilities–has been uploaded into him, with unexpected and significant repercussions.

Dialogue also transcends its story telling function to address the audience, marketing the film and explaining how to understand and consume it: “Get ready for a surprise,” says the disembodied head of the full-body disguise worn by Quaid, just before it explodes, producing a diversion that allows him to escape his pursuers. Later, an animatronic cab-driver, utters the programmed remarks, “We hope you enjoy the ride,” which works literally in the scene and figuratively, to position the film as an event and an adventure.

At 2:30, this trailer plays long. Even with the quick cutting, there is a lot of plot to cover (this trailer is tell-all, it appears, especially with respect to Quaid’s unhappy choice of mates, a woman who deceives, betrays and attempts to kill him.) and a few good lines to deliver. Before “I’ll be back,” became his trademark, Schwarzenegger was known for his quip, “Consider this a divorce,” pronounced over the corpse of his beautiful and cunning wife.

What we see in the shot select is Quaid on the run and repeatedly under attack. Choreographed fight scenes, it is indicated, will feature prominently in the film. He will also take up with another love interest, Melina (Rachel Ticotin), a resistance fighter, who knows her way around a machine gun.

As is common in trailer editing, elements of the film story are re-ordered to serve the interest of the marketing story, such as when one of Quaid’s trackers affirms, “got him,” before we’ve scene him insert the chip into his brain that allows such remote monitoring. Then, when an ally warns him that, “the bug is in your skull,” the next shot is of Quaid running in front of an x-ray screen, but it’s his gun, worn at the hip, rather than anything visible in his head, that “tips off” his assailants.

Quaid’s experience in the trailer is one of confusion, stress and physical torment. There are 3 significant scenes of him screaming, his face convulsed with pain. These extend the earlier shot of the distraught woman who literally “comes apart” in public, revealing Quaid concealed within her cybernetic bulk.

The editing, sound and graphic design are all sophisticated; though no longer cutting edge, they remain contemporary, if not in technique than certainly in style. Regarding the edit decisions, apart from the opening star-field and the subsequent Mars exterior, the shot selection comprises closeup and medium views of blandly interior locations and characters with bad 90’s haircuts and clothes, suggesting, it would seem, the physical, psychological and historical constraints on our protagonist. Faces, dialogue, and explicit images of what’s being discussed and described support the articulation of a complex storyline while developing the larger conceptual problems of identity, memory and agency.

Jerry Goldsmith
‘s symphonic soundtrack opens the trailer, with a heavy cosmic hum, punctuated by atonal eruptions, and complicated by menacing strings. It runs beneath the trailer, swelling into full orchestration –suitable for pretentious, big-budget, sci-fi epic– in the back end. The opening sequence, mentioned above, and the title design–accomplished by strobing laser lights– are bold, exhilarating and impressive, advertising the quality of visual artistry the audience may anticipate.

In tone, The trailer, like the film it represents, is playful, nearly campy in sensibility. With witty putdowns, clever quips, and extraordinary martial skill, Quaid navigates a hostile and faintly dystopian future, where technological advance conceals an atavistic political reality With the right woman–Melina, a resistance fighter–at his side, Quaid’s survival seem likely, while his confusion and trial delivers the vicarious thrill of a stressful ordeal destined to end well.

The trailer, like its film and the short story that inspired it (Philip K. Dick’s “We can remember it for you wholesale,” is complicated, confusing, violent, unpredictable, ironic, knowing and really, really cool.

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movietrailers101 by Fred Greene is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

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