Telling Stories—Classical and Alternative Film Narrative

  Examine how different forms of narration organize and present the plot to either support or question certain social values and presuppositions. Distinguish between plot and story and between diegetic and nondiegetic elements in a film. Explain how narration supports or questions social values and presuppositions. Describe the role of first-person and omniscient narration as each relates to the tradition of classical film narrative. Describe the important aspects of the first-person narration in Double Indemnity and explain how it conforms to the tradition of classical film narratives. Explain how Magnolia maintains narrative unity even though the plot consists of several loosely intertwined storylines with its own set of characters. Return to Top Reading Assignment The Film Experience Chapter 6 (pages 214–256) Read FE and then read the first section of the lesson (Plot, Story, and the Traditions of Film Narrative). Recommended Reading Reread chapter 12 (pages 492–504) of FE as you work on your course project. Viewing Assignment Double Indemnity (Billy Wilder, 1944) Magnolia (Paul Thomas Anderson, 1999) Watch the movies and then read the lesson sections that respectively discuss them. See the Web Sites page for additional information on topics in this lesson. Return to Top Commentary Plot, Story, and the Traditions of Film Narrative Narrative lies at the heart of movies. We make sense of life by telling stories, and almost every feature film tells a story in some way or another. As Corrigan and White's chapter on narrative films reveals, there are many different ways to approach and analyze film narratives. Because we are all intimately familiar with narrative films, many of the terms or concepts they introduce are second nature to us and do not require elaboration. For example, causal logic, character development, linear chronology, narrative duration, and narrative frequency are all familiar to us, even if the names of those terms are unfamiliar. Other terms, although their broader meanings are well known to us, have more particular definitions in the study and analysis of film narrative and may require some explanation. Take for example the distinction between plot and story. When asked the common question about a film we have seen—"What's the plot?"—we all know where to begin. We tell in so many words what happens in the film, how the story is set up, and how it unfolds. But in answering this question, we almost inevitably go beyond the province of plot, in the strict use of the term in film analysis, and tell elements of the story that are not actually included in the plot. Mookie and Tina Figure 6.1 Mookie and Tina's relationship is an integral part of Do the Right Thing, even though we hear or see little of it in the film itself. The term plot describes everything that is presented in the film, either visually or audibly. In deciding on the plot of a film, the screenwriter and director must determine which parts of the story to actually include and show and which to leave simply inferred. Almost without exception, a film cannot show every detail of the story, its characters and their motivations, and its events and their context. As Corrigan and White summarize, "the plot orders the events and actions of the story according to particular temporal and spatial patterns, selecting some actions, individuals and events and omitting others" (2004, 216). In Do the Right Thing, for example, we know that Mookie's relationship to Tina, his relationship to her son, and the couple's finances have been problematic, but the film shows only one scene of them together and in which these issues are mentioned only in passing. We as viewers are inevitably engaged by the film to complete the story in our own minds. The story consists of all the events and characters—those that are explicitly shown as well as all those others that are implied or must be inferred by the viewer—that belong to the narrative. Mookie and Tina's relationship is an integral part of the story, even though we hear or see little of it in the film itself. Our imagination must complete this part of the story to the extent we deem fit. As the discussion of plot and story suggests, narration wields power by selecting which elements of the story to include, but it wields power as well, even if to a lesser extent, by including elements that are extraneous to the story. These nondiegetic elements can strongly influence our reactions to the narrative. Corrigan and White mention the familiar musical motif in Jaws that signals the invisible presence of the great white shark. This simple nondiegetic use of the soundtrack was extremely effective in heightening the anticipation and vicarious fear of the viewer, and it lets us identify with the unknowing, potential victim in ways that the character in the film cannot feel or display. Nondiegetic elements can have many different functions. They can enhance effect, offer a commentary or a perspective on the events in the film, or simply lead us to make a particular association between the events and something outside the scope of the story. To take a hypothetical example, a short sequence of a lion chasing down an antelope is unexpectedly inserted into the middle of a scene that shows the police in a city pursuing an escaped convict. This clearly nondiegetic insert leads us to make a metaphorical association between the two events. For the sake of comparison, recall the scene where Willard kills Kurtz in Apocalypse Now. Coppola crosscuts (parallel editing) between the killing of Kurtz and the ritual sacrifice of a water buffalo. In this case, however, the sacrifice of the water buffalo is actually occurring on the grounds of Kurtz's temple and is diegetic material. The short definition of narration given by Corrigan and White suggest just how much control it exerts over the film experience: "Narration refers to the emotional, physical, or intellectual perspective through which the characters, events, and action of the plot appear" (2004, 217). Put another way, narration leads us to react to the story that a film tells in a certain emotional or intellectual way. Of course, not everyone responds in the same fashion, and viewers often actively resist the perspective offered by a film. But on the whole, the way cinema tells its stories and the way they are received are determined by cultural traditions deeply embedded in our society and way of life. As Corrigan and White note, "None of these dimensions of film narrative—story, plot, and narration—functions independently of historical, cultural, and industrial issues" (2004, 218). That is, the narrative forms that seem natural to us are, in actuality, culturally based, but if our conventional forms of narrative reflect and support our cultural and moral presuppositions in such a fundamental way, then narration also has the potential to bring those presuppositions into question. Indeed, the way a narrative is structured and presented may (1) reveal cultural presuppositions we take for granted; (2) question assumptions that are seminal to our society; and (3) suggest alternative ways to understand the world. Narrative point of view is one of the basic structural elements influencing the overall perspective of narration (Corrigan and White 2004, 240–245). A first-person narrator can be one of the central characters in the film story or someone who plays little role in the main events of the story but is familiar with them in some personal way. The first-person narration can be situated outside the story as a purely narrative voice that identifies itself and its relation to the story; or the narration can be worked into the story itself. 'Double Indemnity' opening scene Figure 6.2 Double Indemnity's opening scene is a famous example of uniquely incorporating narration into the story. Double Indemnity is a famous example of a film that incorporates the narration into the story in an innovative fashion. After the opening sequence that shows Walter Neff speeding back to and stumbling into his office at the Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company, he begins to dictate an office memo, admitting his role in the failed scheme to defraud the company. After his initial confession to the claims manager Barton Keyes, he begins to tell the whole story—from the way he got drawn into the scheme to the way he was wounded that evening. When he begins the story, the film switches from the present to an extended flashback that presents the story as a retrospective plot (Corrigan and White 2004, 236). At a few important junctures in the film, we hear in voiceover his memo dictation of the events that are being shown in the film. And at few points along the way (four altogether), the film shows him in the present as he dictates the memo in the office. For the most part, the plot is shown and is similar to omniscient narration (i.e., as an objective depiction of what happened). Still, we know that we are seeing Neff's version of the story and what we see is restricted narration (Corrigan and White 2004, 241), which only shows situations where Neff was present. As Corrigan and White explain in their account of the two main narrative traditions, omniscient narration is the standard form of classical film narratives (2004, 248–249). However, Wilder's Double Indemnity, despite the use of first-person narration, conforms to the basic principles of classical narrative. Magnolia, on the other hand, consistently employs omniscient narration throughout the film and yet clearly is an example of an alternative film narrative. In the following discussion of the two films, I will mention the three characteristics of classical film narrative and alternative film narrative, as respectively bulleted by Corrigan and White (2004, 248–249), and show how the narrative in each film fits the respective definition. As one would then expect, the two films reveal different assumptions and approaches to their characters, narrative linearity, and the relationship between narration and realism. Double Indemnity: First-Person Narration in a Film Noir Classical Corrigan and White list three main characteristics of narration in the classical Hollywood tradition (2004, 248). There is usually one or more central characters whose actions follow the expected logic of cause and effect. The plot usually follows a linear chronology, even if the sequence of scenes in the film has been chopped up and reordered. The narration, usually from an omniscient point of view, suggests a form of realism. In addition to these formal characteristics, classical narratives are usually informed by an interconnection between the major narrative components and social history. 'Double Indemnity' poster Figure 6.3 Double Indemnity is a classical film narrative in the tradition of film noir. Billy Wilder's 1944 film Double Indemnity is a classical film narrative in the tradition of film noir, the 1940s and 1950s genre of crime thrillers that displayed "a dark sensibility and a dark lighting style" (Corrigan and White 2004, 434). It was not until after World War II that this style of crime film began to be recognized as a genre that was appearing as a new wave or movement in cinema. The name itself did not appear until later, when French theorists began more closely studying the movement and its sociocultural roots. When Wilder's film appeared, reviewers were neither sure to which category it belonged nor were they sanguine about its moral implications. Wilder based his film on a novella by James M. Cain, the famous author of crime fiction. He also hired Raymond Chandler, another well-known writer of popular detective fiction, to work with him on the script; the result was an important change in the main character. In Cain's crime fiction, the dark protagonists often have no or little redeeming qualities—they are who they are with no apologies. This corresponds well to some of the detective figures of the later, more hard-boiled film noirs. However, the detective hero of Chandler's novels, Philip Marlowe, has a gallant side to him and remains incorruptible in the end. The lack of these qualities in Cain's books bothered Chandler, and thus, he transforms Walter Neff into a figure with a stronger sense of moral rectitude than the character in Cain's novella, Walter Huff. With respect to character development, this change places Double Indemnity more in line with classical film narratives than either Cain's fiction writing or many later noir films. In fact, Double Indemnity clearly displays all three main characteristics of classical narrative cited by Corrigan and White. As mentioned above, the first-person narration only provides a restricted access to the events that make up the film story. We only see the events and situations where Neff himself was present. However, this restriction does not seem to cause any kind of deficit in the narration of the story: The innovative construction of the narrative frame (Corrigan and White 2004, 240) establishes a context for Neff's narration that serves to confirm its fullness and reliability. Neff wants Keyes to know how his scheme had confounded his claims manager with whom he had matched wits. He has nothing else to gain here except a strange, final sense of accomplishment that depends on revealing to Keyes all the details of the scheme. He wants to establish that it was foiled not by Keyes's experience or superior intuition but rather by desire—by those uncontrollable urges that have been the doom of many individuals through the ages. Thus, the opening sequence lets the film unfold through Neff's narration as a full and objective account that is similar to what one might expect if the story had been presented via omniscient narration. It is no less reliable and shows no signs of distortion by Neff's psychological state. To the contrary, his condition strengthens his resolve to tell the full story as completely and accurately as possible. The style of the narrative frame (at the beginning and end of the film)—presented as omniscient narration—and the plot of Neff's narration completely conform to cinematic realism. Even though the majority of the story is told as a flashback, the development of the plot strictly follows a linear chronology. The fateful assignment of Phyllis Dietrichson's file to Neff results in the death of her and her husband and in Neff's own demise. The narrative framework of Double Indemnity also establishes it as a film centered on one main character and the choices he makes that determine his fate. In this regard, Double Indemnity conforms to the dictates of classical film narratives more than other noir films. Often the mood and social milieu dominate noir films, relegating the hard-boiled detectives, gangsters, or small-time crooks to secondary status. They are often more type characters, usually victims of the dark, pessimistic times or social conditions in which they find themselves. In this way, noir films often display a moral relativism and question social values and principles rather than confirm them. The most hardcore of the noir films downplay characters and privilege setting; they frequently abandon the linearity of narrative to feature random or meaningless action. In these regards, film noir represents to some extent a move from classical Hollywood narratives, and it was in part this alternative aspect that has attracted the attention of critics and film scholars. Neff Figure 6.4 Double Indemnity focuses on the trials and development of its main character, Neff, in a strongly classical fashion. Although it shares much of the dark mood and sensibility typical of film noir, Double Indemnity focuses on the trials and development of its main character in a strongly classical fashion. As mentioned above, Raymond Chandler's involvement in the film was partly responsible for this. The basic structure and the execution of the narration enable Wilder to place Neff's ambivalent character at the heart of the story. From Neff's lead-in remarks on his "office memo" to his occasional voiceover comments in the course of his first-person narration and to the final repartee between Keyes and Neff, we see a character torn between his attempt to work and live according to the rules of society and a strong internal urge to challenge the moral absolutes he sees as false. On one hand, Neff is the archetypal insurance salesman who entices his clients to purchase insurance, whether they need it or not. His choice of the interoffice memo for his confession and his suave salesman's language situate him as the ultimate insurance man. As the film only subtly suggests, these choices also situate him in a morally ambiguous role. He is single and, as his interaction with Phyllis Dietrichson reveals, clearly familiar with bars, night clubs, and sexually free women. Keyes, his counterpart, represents the tamer side of society. He too is single, but his energies are focused on rooting out those who try to cheat; his obsession with his job obviously consumes both his work and free time, but the most obvious sign of the moral ambiguity associated with Neff's job is Keyes's offer to give him a job in the office. For Neff, this means only a desk job, something that lacks the lure and excitement of sales, of being out around town, and of meeting women, but for Keyes, a salesman is only a "peddler, glad-handler, back-slapper...All you guys do is just ring doorbells and dish out a smooth line of monkey-talk." The new offer would mean a "fifty-dollar cut in salary," but in Keyes's eyes, an office job means the opportunity to do something reputable—the opportunity to be more than just a pawn in the insurance game: To me, a claims man is a surgeon. That desk is an operating table. And those pencils are scalpels and bone chisels. And those papers are not just forms and statistics and claims for compensation, they're alive, they're packed with drama, with twisted hopes and crooked dreams. A claims man, Walter, is a doctor and a bloodhound...and a cop and a judge and a jury and a father confessor all in one. And you want to tell me you're not interested. You don't want to work with your brains. All you wanna work is with your finger on the doorbell, for a few bucks more a week. Neff never seriously considers Keyes's offer, and it is one of the choices that lead to his downfall. He can play the game well, but it ultimately gains the upper hand over him. The fast-talking, ahead-of-the-game insurance man gives in to the seductive wiles of the attractive femme fatale, who plays him for a dupe. While much of what I have sketched as the moral conflict facing Neff is played out in the more objectively narrated account of the story, the occasional voiceover from his memo provides the necessary depth to this struggle. Neff never abandons the smart-guy language. In this regard, he plays it "straight down the line" (as he had demanded of Phyllis), even in his final conversation with Keyes. Still, the reflective moments of his voiceover comments reveal that he has gained some insights not only about his own limits but also about the uncertainties and arbitrariness when one tries to play the system. He admits after his second meeting with Phyllis that he knew he "had a hold of a red hot poker and the time to drop it was before it burned [his] hand off." But when his attempts to forget her by having a beer at a drive-in and bowling a few games fail and when he is back in his apartment, he realizes he is hooked: "I was all twisted up inside and I was still holding on to that red-hot poker. And right then it came over me that I hadn't walked out on anything at all, that the hope was too strong, that this wasn't the end between her and me. It was only the beginning." In the end, there is much ambivalence surrounding the figure of Neff. It seems that he could have pinned the blame for Phyllis's death on Nino and successfully disentangled himself from the whole affair, but once he knows that Nino was not a coconspirator with Phyllis, he decides not to set him up. And yet, Neff kills Phyllis even after she was not able to kill him. Did he see her decision as just the next step in her continuing schemes? Did Neff kill her because he thought she was evil, dangerous, and needed to be eliminated before she harmed someone else? Regardless of how you answer these questions, do you see Neff as a tragic figure? That is, does he have enough redeeming features to enable the viewer to identify with him and to ask how and why he got involved in crime? For the purposes of this lesson, we are concerned with the particular question of how narrative form bears on our understanding of Neff. How does the narration in Double Indemnity—the combination of omniscient narration in the narrative frame and first-person narration in the flashback—shape the way we respond to Neff's story as it is presented in the film's plot? How do the insights we gain through Neff's voiceover comments in the course of the film influence our opinion of him? His narration is addressed to Keyes, a rival of sorts who not only represents a different perspective on the insurance game in particular but also more broadly represents the importance of "playing it by the rules" in life. How does this role of Keyes as Neff's counterpart and confidant suggest certain values and principles that are central to the film? Magnolia: Diverse Storylines and Narrative Unity 'Magnolia' poster Figure 6.5 Magnolia does not exhibit all three exceptions to the classical formulas for plot and characters. For our discussion of Magnolia, let's start with the three characteristics of alternative film narratives enumerated by Corrigan and White (2004, 249). Immediately, we can establish that Magnolia does not exhibit all three of these exceptions to the classical formulas for plot and characters. As noted above, Magnolia consistently employs an omniscient narration throughout the film. In terms of spatial and temporal continuity as well, the film seems to adhere to the principles of objective realism, but with respect to the other two aspects of narrative, it strongly parallels the alternative film. There is clearly no single central character in Magnolia. One could say in fact that the film has eleven main characters, as well as a number of smaller roles. These characters are linked, if at all, only in the most marginal fashion. Instead of a single plot that develops according to a clear cause-and-effect linear structure, nine distinct storylines are connected by varying degrees but are never integrally connected. Still, Magnolia is simply not a compilation or anthology of separate stories within the same film. Given this alternative form of plural story lines, I want to examine how the film is narratively unified. After analyzing the film's alternative narrative structure, I will turn to the question of how this form of narration suggests certain values and attitudes. The film opens with a set of three short vignettes with a voiceover by Ricky Jay (who appears later in the film as the producer of the What Do Kids Know? game show). While the vignettes tell of quirks of fate that struck three different individuals, Jay's voiceover comments ponder the universal nature of chance and fate. This happens during the running of the opening credits but before the full screen shot of a blooming magnolia flower. The shot of the magnolia blossom then gives way to a map of Los Angeles that kaleidoscopes in the background together with superimposed still shots from the movie. When the title flower appears, the soundtrack breaks out in full volume with Aimee Mann singing her version of Harry Nilsson's "One" ("is the loneliest number"). This is the beginning of a roughly seven-minute segment that introduces the nine main storylines, one after another. The song remains a part of the soundtrack throughout this sequence, starting and stopping as the new characters and their stories are introduced. Having already established individual fate as a central philosophical question in the movie, the narration then lets us know via the nondiegetic music that loneliness pervades the lives of all the characters and connects them in a thematic fashion even while their stories remain separate. The different characters and their life stories are also unified by the narrative location (Corrigan and White 2004, 237–238). The map of Los Angeles introduces the city not only as the geographical location that encompasses the diverse stories but also as a psychological location. The kaleidoscopic collage with the map of L.A. anticipates how the events in the characters' lives, which take place in different parts of the city, will also come together to form a larger theme in the course of the film. The various connotations associated with the Los Angeles we know from the movies (the entertainment industry, drugs, crime, corrupt police, shattered dreams, and broken lives) are activated at the outset before they become part of the plot. Claudia Figure 6.6 Claudia sings "Wise Up" by Aimee Mann. At other crucial junctures in the movie, Aimee Mann's songs are again integrally connected to the plot. In a particularly poignant sequence, the soundtrack music becomes eerily diegetic. Just after Phil has given Earl the dose of liquid morphine, the scene cuts to Claudia sitting in her apartment. Claudia softly sings along to the song "Wise Up" ("It's not going to stop"). As the song plays from beginning to end, the film cuts from one main character to another, and each of them sings along with the song in the same manner. In this sequence, the film temporarily assumes the musical genre mode, particularly in the scene at the Partridge house, where both Phil and Earl, lying deathly ill in bed next to him, sing along. This break in the film's adherence to cinematic realism follows the set of scenes where each of the main characters begins to breakdown under the pressure of the memories and the lies they are carrying with them (the title of the chapter on the DVD is "Meltdown"). The message of Mann's song is an admonition to the main characters: It's not what you thought When you first began it You got what you want Now you can hardly stand it though By now you know it's not Going to stop It's not going to stop It's not going to stop 'til you wise up The message applies to all characters. To those who have become successful in the entertainment or promotion business (Earl, Jimmy, and Frank), the message is the old theme that fame and wealth do not bring happiness and often lead to deep unhappiness. However, in some way or another, the message applies to the main characters. In doing so, the song's repetition ("It's not going to stop…") becomes a broad philosophical question: Exactly what is not going to stop? The final Mann song "Save Me," specifically written for the movie, directly applies to Claudia and Jim and also expresses the common need of all the main characters: But can you save me Come on and save me If you could save me From the ranks of the freaks Who suspect they could never love anyone "Save Me" begins to play as Jim, who has been sitting in his car while his voiceover expresses thoughts about his job, drives to see Claudia. The scene cuts to Claudia lying in bed as Jim enters, speaks to her, and then sits next to her. Throughout this final scene of the movie, the camera remains stationary on Claudia. The music is primary, as Mann's song drowns out Jim's speech to Claudia at times. We clearly hear parts of it and know that he wants to unconditionally remain with her— he is there to save her, as the song suggests. The scene ends as Claudia's face, which has remained tense and troubled as it has throughout the entire movie, breaks into a smile that is both promising and ambiguous. The temptation here is to see the final scene as a somewhat clichéd narrative statement about the power of love to overcome all the harsh realities of life and to provide everything one needs and lacks. However, after the film ends with the shot of Claudia's ambiguous smile, the screen turns black and the credits role as the song continues with the volume increased. The lyrics and haunting vocal style of Aimee Mann, like the final smile on Claudia's face, seem to raise more questions than provide easy solutions to Claudia or the other characters. The desire to be saved by love appears in the lyrics as a wish that can only be fulfilled in fantastic narratives: Like Peter Pan or Superman You will come to save me Is the desire or expectation that a knight in shining armor will appear and save us just as illusory as the hope to gain happiness through wealth and fame? Like Double Indemnity, Magnolia also has a narrative frame at the beginning and the end of the film. But in contrast to Wilder's film, this frame segment is nondiegetic and unrelated to the film story except on a thematic meta-level. The film's narration of the interwoven lives and fates of the film's main characters is framed within an enigmatic account of three real events that were each the result of a bizarre twist of fate. The narrator immediately reminds us of these three actual occurrences after the climactic scene where the frogs rain and the narrative path of each of the film's main characters is resolved. We see three very short visual reminders of the events that had been depicted in the opening sequence, accompanied by Ricky Jay's minimalist recall of what we had seen earlier: "And there's the account of the hanging of three men, and a scuba diver, and a suicide." This closing refers to the opening vignettes and clearly marks them more as the backdrop against which we are to read the various narrative strands. Rather than leave it as a straightforward narrative frame that neatly inscribes the plot, the voiceover narration continues as the final scenes of the film play even after the opening vignettes' shots. As we see Earl's corpse (as well as that of the Great Dane that had eaten his pain killers) covered and then wheeled out of the house, Jay's voiceover continues the theme of chance: There are stories of coincidence and chance and intersections and strange things told and which is which and who only knows? And we generally say, "Well, if that was in a movie I wouldn't believe it." Someone's so-and-so met someone else's so-and-so and so on. And it is in the humble opinion of this narrator that strange things happen all the time. And so it goes and so it goes. And the book says, "We may be through with the past but the past ain't through with us." The message given here is that there are many things, even the most important things, that we do not and cannot know. Rather than being granted an omniscient stance outside the plot of the story, the narrator also lacks the information allotted to the characters within the film. His phrase ("And the book says") seems to point to a source of knowledge and wisdom, perhaps the Bible, that we accept as an irrefutable guide to our lives. However, he is quoting from Frank T. J. Mackey's book Seduce and Destroy. The fallibility of his knowledge is reinforced by the fact that quiz kid Donnie Smith had already cited the same passage earlier in the film as a source of his knowledge about life. Finally, the voice of the narrator is that of one of the characters—the television producer of the quiz show, Burt Ramsey (Ricky Jay). This too suggests that the narrator is subject to the same confusion and uncertainty as the characters in the film. Jim's gun Figure 6.7 Jim's lost gun falls mysteriously from the sky next to the frogs near the film's conclusion. As our discussion of the narration suggests, Magnolia addresses a number of philosophical questions about life: How much of a role does coincidence and fate play in our lives? Are there moral principles that can guide and give us hope or steadfastness in such an ambiguous world? Are we able to escape or overcome bad events in the past that haunt our lives? The framing of the film within the three accounts of strange quirks of fate suggest that we are subject to coincidence and chance. Of course, all three incidents are tragic and suggest how fate can strike us at any time. However, an even stranger, completely incredible act of chance occurs in the film, but it acts to reconcile the characters with their lives. Just as Jim's path crosses with Donnie's, as Jim sees him climbing up the drainpipe, frogs begin to rain. Although we immediately recognize this as surreal, the frame story of real incidents that are almost as incredible as frogs falling from the sky eases our objection to this absurd event. The film never breaks from its structural and narrative adherence to realism. As strange as it is, the characters continue to go about their lives almost as normal as possible. They begin to find at least an inkling of reconciliation in their desperate lives. The connection between the restoration of hope and the raining frogs is emphasized at the end of the sequence. We see Jim and Donnie standing next to Donnie's car as the whole area is covered with the frogs. In the foreground, Jim's pistol that he had lost earlier in the day falls out of nowhere onto the ground next to the frogs. During the last part of this sequence, we hear Jim's thoughts (in a diegetic voiceover) about having to choose when to arrest someone or when to let them go and give them a second chance. This is a return to the theme of an earlier, similar voiceover. As he headed out in his patrol car with the song "One" playing on the soundtrack, we hear a voiceover of Jim's thoughts that ends with these words: "As we move through this life, we should try to do good. And if we can do that and not hurt anyone else, well then…." The moral imperative he suggests here may remind us of Da Mayor's advice to Mookie in Do the Right Thing: "Always do the right thing." The message is simple, and the audience and the film's characters can agree on it. Life, of course, is not that clear cut; situations are often murky, and deciding what to do or how to live requires much guesswork. Jim's final voiceover is more specifically aimed at the situation in the film as he helps Donnie and then departs to see Claudia: "And the law is the law, but heck if I'm going to break it. You can forgive someone. Well that's the tough part. What can we forgive? Tough part of the job. Tough part of walking down the street." We are given what seems like a solid moral perspective on the events of the film, but Jim's clichéd Hollywood way of talking about his job and what is right does not provide the kind of authorial voice we tend to expect and trust when looking for a film's message. After all, he too is one of those characters in the film who is trying to find a way through a disjointed world. In discussing the narration in 2001: A Space Odyssey, Corrigan and White ask these questions: Does this narration assume a position of divine wonder at the span of human development? Or could that narrative stance be better described as a satirical vision, quietly mocking that history of human desire? Deciding which position controls that narrative will determine how we understand the movie (2004, 240). In a similar fashion, we can ask the following of Magnolia: Does this narration imply that we can take hold of our lives, shake off the events in the past that haunt us, and come to a secure understanding of our existence and what we should do? Or does it leave us thinking that we are subject to the whims of an inexplicable human existence, only capable of clinging together with other lost souls in an irrational world? How we answer these questions will determine how we read the film. Ultimately, our understanding of Magnolia will be based to a large part on what we bring to it; the film raises important questions but does not supply an overriding narrative voice that gives us any definitive answers. It may also move us to critically look at our own set of beliefs that grounds our existence; and it may also ask how those beliefs might hold against the quirks of fate. Bibliography Olsen, Mark. "Singing in the Rain: Paul Thomas Anderson and Magnolia." In American Independent Cinema: A Sight and Sound Reader, edited by Jim Hillier, 177–180. London: British Film Institute, 2001. Schickel, Richard. Double Indemnity. BFI Film Classicals. London: BFI Classics, 1992. Return to Top Study Questions Answer the following questions as completely as you can before checking your answers with those provided. These questions are for your benefit only, and your answers will not be submitted for evaluation. What is the difference between story and plot in film narratives and between diegetic and nondiegetic elements? Show Answer(s) Even though the first-person narration of Double Indemnity is not the most common type of narration in classical film narratives, how does the particular diegetic context for the narration support classical narrative purposes? Show Answer(s) What kind of nondiegetic devices does Magnolia use to create narrative unity among the film's loosely connected storylines? Show Answer(s) Return to Top Progress Evaluation When you can accomplish the learning objectives for this lesson, you should begin work on the progress evaluation described below. You may use any assigned readings, your notes, and other course-related materials to complete this assignment. Compile your short essay and the description of your course project into one document for uploading. 1. Short essay. 100 total points. Your short essay should be between three and (no more than) four typed, double-spaced pages (800–1,000 words) on the following topic: How do the respective narrative forms of Double Indemnity and Magnolia construct their characters and provide different critical perspectives on social values? Discuss in your essay some of the various narration types and the formal narrative construction of the films' characters. However, do not simply provide a list or catalogue of the narrative differences between the two films. A critical and necessary part of the assignment is for you to argue how the narrative construction in each film provides critical perspectives on social values. 2. Description of the course project (no points). Write a one-paragraph description of your analytical film essay and provide its working title. In your description, you should indicate the central topic and the set of issues that you want to address. Indicate also the major questions that you will answer in your analysis. Include a preliminary list of the resources you expect to use and indicate how you plan to use them, noting which ones more specifically address your topic