Thursday, November 21, 2013

(500) Days of Summer, Semiotics, and Narrative Codes


(500) Days of Summer, Semiotics, and Narrative Codes

The “what-could-have-been”…in a non-classic story of Boy Meets Girl and they fall in love…or at least he does.  We begin with an establishing shot, a park bench overlooking a part of the city that we find out later is of value to the protagonist.  A closer shot of two people on the bench and then the close-up of the hands and a ring on her finger.  We feel as though we are about to participate in a classic Rom-Com.  Using the codes for romantic comedy as shared by viewers, the audience has expectations of what will take place for the next two or so hours.  As Bordwell put it: “spectators participate in a complex process of actively elaborating what the film sets forth.” (183)  Following his guide, we know exactly what the aforementioned scene means…young love.  Our set of codes leads us to a particular conclusion that the filmmakers then break into pieces.  We know this is a love story, as spectators, we are certain of that fact.  That is, of course, until a few moments into the piece where the narrator clearly informs us that our expectations are wrong and that this isn’t a love story. 

We should have known that from the start.  Aside for the cuteness factors of it loveable stars, there are obvious signs.  According to Metz, film is a signifying system and in it, each shot is a statement.  Our task is to decipher those statements using all our faculties.  The film begins with an almost cheesy wedding video montage of both Deschanel/Summer and Levitt/Tom growing up.  We have a number of perspective shots and continuity shots.  Specifically when Summer’s childhood self blows a dandelion into the frame of Tom’s childhood self, which then becomes bubbles.  The montage leads the audience in the belief that we are seeing the story of how these two people came together.  But, the illusion is shattered and a new reality – if you can present a fiction piece of film as such - emerges.  We are greeted with a disclaimer: “Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental…Especially you Jenny Beckman…Bitch.”  But we simply laugh it off as a funny statement, and fall into the same trap as Tom, only viewing a part of the whole until we are forced (through repetition of events, dual shots, and non-linear narrative) to “look again.”

The fragmented narrative is told from Tom’s point of view, and often from the inside of his head.  Its non-linear story line jumps back and forward in time as Tom tries to figure out how and why everything went awry.  The spectator gets to journey with Tom as the title cards (denoting which of the 500 days is being explored, reflects the status of the relationship; with good days being brighter and bad days filled with shadows and gray) guide out journey.  It almost seems as if these placards allow for Tom, through fragmented memory, or the narrator, through almost abstract narrative, or perhaps even the audience to travel through time and space – something film allows us to do beautifully, to erase, or redraw or recolor our version of the past.  A version with is often tainted with the obsession of a view from rose-colored glasses or the haze of anger and resentment.  Metz spoke of how film operates as a visual language or system with encoded meanings.  While watching the film, the viewers decode without realizing they are doing so.  And those meanings can be found visually, aurally or in a narrative. 

This film certainly has several examples that would lead one to tie it back to the classic narrative film, as described by Kuhn; such as the use of cross-cutting and linking certain shots together through editing so the storyline can be followed.  The progression of shots within each scene certainly aids in the retelling of the progression of the relationship; indeed it seems as though each scene is actually a classic narrative of its own which are then mixed together to create the whole product.  One could also cite its use of close-ups when Tom is reflecting on his view of Summer and qualities or flaws (depending on his mood) of the parts of her body.  Cut-in shots, like the emphasis of the ring in a few sequences, or the look in Tom’s eyes, or the framing of certain scenes which are than underscored with contemporary music further the potential for characterization and create “the look.”   However, one cannot ignore its clear and rather blunt disregard for classicism.  While classics value linear storylines that follow the pattern of cause and effect, as well as clear plot resolution brought about through the journey of the hero to establish equilibrium, can one really determine the degree of closure in a film like this?  We can be mostly certain in the symbolic close-ups shown throughout the film that Summer’s resolution is complete.  These close-ups “serve to reveal emotions, and to some extent, individual personality traits of the characters.” (210)  She regains everything she loved and lost during her parents’ divorce that made her abandon her faith in love.  Specific moments highlight how she only loved two things in her life; one was her long hair and the other was how she could cut it off and not feel anything at all.  Along this vein, at the conclusion of the film, she is shown, once again with long hair, and once again, allowing herself to feel.  But the same closure is not present in Tom’s story. 

Perhaps this film is more closely associated with the tenets of Alternative narrative systems where the “narration of events in a story may not be organized according to any linear logic of cause and effect”.  Its conclusion leaves us somewhat hanging.  We know he moves on from Summer and meets Autumn, but it is left open to our interpretation after that.  Or the view that in classic filmmaking, there is a necessity of a credible fictional world; which this film establishes in its glimpse into the rather boring life of Tom, working as a greeting card copy-writer, but then completely breaks this mold in its big musical Disney-esque dance number, complete with shots of Tom seeing himself as Han Solo or dancing down the street with a marching band and animated bird.  Equally it follows a number of codes found within the art system of Film.  Parallels are found in the “temporal continuity through repetition and stretching time, by unpunctuated temporal ellipsis, flash backs or flash forwards.” (217)  The story is told through memories, as Tom digs back and encodes that mess of his relationship; but also the very thing that allows for him to wake up and change and get back to his passion for architecture.  In these perspective shots, we see Tom’s state of mind.  The other characters (sister/counselor, co-worker, best friend) fill their social required role for the piece without much background or explanation for their presence. 

Most significant of the shots, perhaps, is the split screen that highlights Tom’s expectations versus the reality of his encounter with Summer after their breakup.  The ring, so prominent on his friend from work at the beginning of the story, is now featured on Summer’s hand.  That whole moment, months before in the characters world, but just a few minutes in ours through the magic of cinema where time and space have no bounds, where the narrator simply states: “here was Tom, in her world.  And here was Summer, wanting him there” has become a thing of the past.  As Bordwell suggests, A shot by shot analysis can aid us in doing our own bit of understanding and identification with the piece.  Being armed with the codes that society has established as well as the accepted techniques used in filmmaking and editing can help us go farther into the piece.  A film, which I initially enjoyed while I sat on my couch and typed emails, has become something that fascinates me and about which I keep instructing my students…who knows if it’s appropriate…

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