Motifs in Cinema (2013): Crime and Punishment

This article belongs to Andrew Kendall’s Motifs in Cinema series. In the following paragraphs, I will discuss the different ways in which Crime and Punishment were portrayed across a number of films released in the previous calendar year. As such and despite my best efforts, mild spoilers regarding the plots of the following films can be expected:
The Wolf of Wall Street, American Hustle, Fruitvale Station, 12 Years a Slave, Dallas Buyers Club, Captain Phillips, A Hijacking, Ernest & Celestine, The Unspeakable Act, Night Moves, Neighboring Sounds

One of the biggest cinematic stories of the year was the controversy surrounding Martin Scorsese’s The Wolf of Wall Street. The detractors of the film bemoaned the absence of clear-cut condemnation for the financial atrocities committed by billionaire Jordan Belfort. The film, a satirical, relentless take on the excesses of Belfort’s rise to Wall Street fortune, does not explicitly denounce his lifestyle; yet, it instills a feeling of discomfort in the audience by thrusting them into Jordan's never-ending cycle of moral, ethical and financial deviance. That the film remains mostly true to the real life story is rather more disturbing than what approach Scorsese takes to this story. That Belfort is roaming the streets free – having spent less than a mere two years in prison – is infinitely more unforgivable than Terrence Winter’s crime of removing didacticism from his screenplay. Nevertheless, the real world tension between institutional crime and punishment, or lack thereof, is at the heart of the debate. That any film would have ability to start such a conversation is worth applauding.

Thanks to the awards-centric mentality that shapes much of the cinematic dialogue near the end of the year, comparisons between The Wolf of Wall Street and David O. Russell’s American Hustle were nearly inescapable. Russell’s film takes inspiration from Scorsese crime (and punishment) classic, Goodfellas, but the ensemble acting and cinematic influences aren’t the only connecting elements between the two films. Though Russell and his team take artistic liberty with the ABSCAM scandal, theirs is effectively also a tale of criminals that enter the system, play with its rules from within, and exit unscathed. The crucial difference between the two films is that in the latter, the system doesn’t applaud or protect the criminals; it simply can’t overcome their shrewdness. The criminals may resume their lives in the end, but not before dragging the corrupt establishment down.

If the institution protects the wealthy criminals in The Wolf of Wall Street and dances to their tune in American Hustle, its role in Ryan Coogler’s Fruitvale Station is rather more alarming, for not only is it a policeman - a public service agent - who commits the crime here, but also that the harrowing true story of Oscar Grant’s murder is so recent and yet, already forgotten. When Michael B. Jordan utters the gut-wrenching “You shot me! I got a daughter” line, it isn’t just the emotional punch of seeing a young father vanish that brings us to tears, but the knowledge that even in the second decade of the 20th century, America’s treatment of the lower rungs of its society, and particularly Black and Hispanic communities, stands at such sharp contrast to the privileges of the rich. Fruitvale Station is a reminder that crimes such as Grant’s death are sadly a more common occurrence that we would like to believe and that the punishment rarely ever arrives. 

Whereas Coogler tackles issues of race and a problematic judicial system in modern America, British filmmaker Steve McQueen looks further back at the history of racial inequality in 12 Years a Slave. To deem slavery a crime that went unpunished for far too long is to grossly understate one of the biggest institutionalized crimes against humanity. McQueen doesn’t compromise in showing us the everyday horrors that millions of men and women faced; he turns his unflinching gaze on the sight of a woman’s brutal flogging or a man left to struggle millimetres away from death on muddy grounds. The offenders never faced reprimand for the despicable abuse they inflicted on their victims, so punishment is unavoidably absent from McQueen’s film. But on the grander scheme of things, the film is a brutally frank lesson in the dark history that has woven racism into the fabric of American culture.

Motifs in Cinema: The Dichotomy Between Fantasy And Reality

"Motifs in Cinema is a discourse across several film blogs, assessing the way in which various thematic elements have been used in the 2012 cinematic landscape. How does a common theme vary in use from a comedy to a drama? Are filmmakers working from a similar canvas when they assess the issue of death or the dynamics of revenge? Like most things, a film begins with an idea - Motifs in Cinema assesses how the use of a common theme across various films changes when utilized by different artists." 

- Andrew K.

Andrew has a knack for providing us with great motifs to explore for this series, but for the second year running, nothing piqued my interest as much as the dichotomy between fantasy and reality. At the risk of coming off as incredibly conceited, let me quote myself from last year's article to illustrate why I remain so interested in this topic: "Fantasy, in the strictest sense of the word, is inseparable from the cinema. What are fictional films if not the fantasy of those who imagine them, write them and act them? What is fantasy if not the imaginary world we immerse ourselves in for a few hours in the dark?"

All cinema can essentially be boiled down to that word: fantasy. It's all unreal and imagined. Take a film like Argo, for example, that tells the true story of a landmark political event, and yet, remains so infused with the glorification of the proceedings that it becomes difficult to suspend disbelief when the Iranian forces are chasing the airplane on the airport tarmac. On the other end of the spectrum is Holy Motors, so unhinged from reality that all presumptions about the real world are destabilized and fantasy becomes the default mode of thought. Monsieur Oscar permanently lives in purgatory between fantasy and an alternate reality.

Motifs in Cinema, 2011: The Dichotomy Between Fantasy and Reality

Perhaps because it’s one of the youngest artistic forms, cinema is often assessed in much different manner that literature, or the visual arts. We discuss it in terms of genre, not in terms of thematic offering. Comparing, for example, Corpse Bride and Up because they’re both animated leads to some dubious discussion especially when – like any art form – thematic elements examined in cinema and the way different filmmaker address them make for some stimulating discussion. Motifs in Cinema is a discourse, across nine film blogs, assessing the way in which various thematic elements have been used in the 2011 cinematic landscape. How does a common theme vary in use from a comedy to a drama? Are filmmakers working from a similar canvas when they assess the issue of the artist or the family dynamic? Like everything else, a film begins with an idea - Motifs in Cinema assesses how the use of a single idea changes when utilised by varying artists.

- Andrew K.

Accidentally or otherwise, every year we get several films that deal with the same themes. Often, similarities between these films are so many and so clear that a narrative starts to build around one of these themes. Everyone spoke about the omnipresence of nostalgia in 2011’s films, for instance. Most of these motifs give way to different ones once everybody stops talking about one year and moves on to the next. One theme that never really disappears from the conversation is the dichotomy between fantasy and reality, which is why I chose to write about it as soon as Andrew introduced his Motifs in Cinema mini-blogathon to me.

Fantasy, in the strictest sense of the word, is inseparable from the cinema. What are fictional films if not the fantasy of those who imagine them, write them and act them? What is fantasy if not the imaginary world we immerse ourselves in for a few hours in the dark? Here, I want to write about filmmakers who, aware of the power they hold over their audience and making the most of their psychological advantage, presented an image of fantasy that changed the way we think of reality. Needless to say, different directors had different approaches, they worked in different genres and affected us in distinct ways.