Archives for February 2021

Before there was Parasite, Bong Joon Ho was already a well respected name in the film community. Though they did not get as much exposure as Parasite, his previous works are still masterpieces in their own right. One of those films is Mother. 

Mother (2009) is a South Korean film directed by Bong Joon Ho that leaves you with an eerie feeling. Yoon Do-Joon (Won Bin) is in his mid twenties, but is too dim witted to take care of 

himself. He lives with his overprotective mother (Kim Hye Ja) in an impoverished home, holding a reputation as the village idiot. He wakes up one morning to the cops at his doorstep, implicated in the murder of a high school girl. Distraught by her son’s arrest, Do-Joon’s mother makes it her singular mission to free him from jail, and will go to any length to do so. 

The film earned dozens of awards, all of which it deserves. It would take hours to go through all of the things it does well in one sitting, and that’s not what I’m here to do. What I would like to focus on is the idea of trope inversion, and how it made Mother so great. 

A trope, in this context, is a theme, idea, or narrative tool that is used repeatedly in fictional storytelling. It is similar to a cliché, but not quite. A cliché implies a lack of originality. Tropes are used repeatedly but can take various forms depending on the story it is in. If done right, a story using a trope can remain narratively unique. Just look at how many different stories there are that use the hero’s journey. But don’t get me wrong, they can be done wrong too.

And where there are tropes, there are trope inversions. It’s easy to confuse trope inversion with the concept of a plot twist. A plot twist is an unexpected development, whereas a trope inversion is a twisted take on an existing theme. Game of Thrones is a good example. There’s plenty of plot twists that I won’t spoil, but one prominent trope inversion in the show is its approach to revenge. A YouTube channel called “The Cosmonaut Variety Hour” has a great video explaining this concept. To paraphrase him, most revenge stories have us rooting for the vengeful character because we see it as justice, and they usually win in the end. Game of Thrones has its fair share of vengeful characters, but instead of letting those characters succeed, the show inverts the revenge trope by punishing those characters. Every character who sought vengeance is killed at some point in the show, except for one.  

Mother inverts the…I don’t what to call it…The redemption trope? When a main protagonist is wrongfully implicated in a crime and must solve it themselves in order to return to their normal life. Typically, the character in question is able to endure hardship and come out the other end having defeated the antagonist. Some movies have different interpretations in which the protagonist emerges having lost something significant or even having failed. Mother’s take on the trope, however, is something I’ve never seen before.

SPOILERS

A majority of the movie is spent watching the mother looking into every possible method to free her son. Meanwhile, she is the only person in the entire town who believes her son is innocent. No matter what happens, we as an audience are certain that Do-Joon did not commit this murder. The mother’s investigation eventually leads to a suspicious looking man who was at the scene of the crime.                     

At this point, all the typical signs are in place. A mysterious murder. A misunderstood son and mother having to endure disbelief and hatred. A crime that the mother is slowly unraveling and a suspicious man who we’ve caught glimpses of. We as an audience are certain that the suspicious man is behind it all. The climax of the film must be about catching him.

But when the mother confronts him in his old shack, we find out that he wasn’t a criminal, but a witness. A flashback scene of his account shows us that Do-Joon killed the student with a rock and left the scene. The mother, overcome with shock and denial, impulsively kills the old man and burns his shack to the ground, leaving no witnesses. On Do-Joon’s side of things, the police suddenly find strong evidence against a different subject, and Do-Joon is freed. The mother and Do-Joon reunite and return to their normal lives; Do-Joon still unable to piece together that he killed the girl, and the mother in complete denial that it ever happened. 

The protagonist wasn’t wrongfully implicated in some convoluted plan. It was as simple as it seemed. The mother and Do-Joon didn’t have to overcome some climactic adversity to return to their normal lives. Everything suddenly just works out on their own.

I would’ve still enjoyed the movie if Do-Joon was actually innocent and the mother actually frees him in the end. But once we learn the truth, we are in uncharted narrative territory. We have no frame of reference for the story unfolding before us, because it doesn’t fit any structure we’ve seen before, making it all the more entertaining. 

In hindsight, it seems so simple. It’s just flipping everything we expect to see in a redemption trope. And yet, this kind of backwards thinking combined with such masterful storytelling, is hard to come by. Mother is proof of how powerful a trope inversion can be and that even simple ideas can be turned into so much more in the right hands. 

Go give it a watch!   

There’s no doubt that the Marvel superhero franchise of the past decade has been a cultural milestone for the current generation. Its most recent production, Avengers: Endgame boasts a box office of 2.798 billion USD. BILLION!! But, no matter how much we may be absorbed by the stunning visual art and masterful storytelling, Hollywood is a business, first and foremost. And this business has something called proof of concept.

Proof of concept, in terms of the film industry, refers to a story, a franchise, a ‘concept’, that has proven to be successful before, and thus, has potential to be successful again. Behind each blockbuster is a studio and long list of sponsors, all of whom are gambling millions into this high risk, high reward industry, and they’re looking to make a profit. So, how do you get some assurance that you won’t lose millions of dollars on a movie? You make one that’s made millions before. That’s why you decide to make another Star Wars sequel, a Terminator remake, or even a Sonic movie. This is how Hollywood has been for decades now. 

So, what’s the point I’m trying to make? Well, the Marvel Cinematic Universe utilized proof of concept, drawing from its widely popular comics, and used that nostalgia to draw in a large audience. Obviously, its reach has extended beyond comic book readers now, but its success set an example for the industry nonetheless. As the popularity of the Marvel movies have grown, so have the amount of action/sci fi movies that try to copy them. I used to think that the lack of original ideas in recent years was because many of them had already been exhausted, and while that may be true to some degree, it’s also because original ideas don’t have a high success rate.

Those who’ve watched any of the recent Marvel movies will know what I’m talking about when I say comedy is a staple in these films. The studio has gotten good at intertwining punch lines with crazy action every five minutes, and that’s part of the appeal of these movies. People just want to turn off their brains and be entertained. Marvel is proof of the action/comedy concept. But when others try and replicate it, it just doesn’t land. So many of us have watched DC or Star Wars movies try to replicate the quippy writing in Marvel movies, but  most of the jokes are either not funny, childish, or straight up cringey. But similar jokes seemed to work in Marvel, so why does it feel so weird everywhere else? 

Well, a few problems come to mind. First is the matter of tonal consistency. Marvel has a decided advantage at the moment, simply because of how many movies it has under its belt. When people enter a theater to watch a Marvel movie now, they expect it to be a light-hearted, action/adventure experience. The humor could hardly detract from the movie’s tone, because it has long been established that humor is a part of the ride. Let’s compare that to Zack Snyder’s DC movies. They have a dark tone and attempt to introduce mature ideas. There’s even a gritty looking color filter in all of them. But at random points, characters are delivering goofy lines or doing slapstick comedy. So of course it feels forced.

Another issue is the variety in humor. Here’s one of the funniest exchanges ever written in the Marvel cinematic universe. 

DR. STRANGE

Alright, Let me ask you this one time. What master do you serve?

STAR-LORD

What master do I serve? What am I supposed to say? Jesus?

The takeaway here is that this was an obvious setup for a punchline, but it didn’t feel out of place, because these characters would say these things. Dr. Strange was a professional doctor and is a sophisticated master of sorcery. Star-Lord is a goofy space pirate from Minnesota stuck in 80s culture. These characters are charismatic and distinct from one another, so even their jokes are tailored to their personalities. A big reason why punchlines in other movies feel awkward is because they are derived from the same comedic persona. They all seem to be going for that awkward, relatable teenage kind of humor. The result is a bunch of different characters dispensing the same kind of jokes that don’t fit with any of their character traits and feel forced in the end. 

This also relates to how Marvel approaches their projects as opposed to other franchises. The people who write the Marvel movies have an extensive knowledge of the material they are working with. As such, they are able to craft unique and engaging stories that put characters in funny scenarios. You wouldn’t get hilarious characters like The Grandmaster or Drax if the writers didn’t know their stuff. Simply put, Marvel really cares about what they put out. The same can’t be said for other franchises. Even in the case of Star Wars, the writing hardly takes advantage of the vast cinematic universe at its disposal. If the jokes aren’t tied in any way to its story or its world, then it’s usually a cliche one that can be repeated in any other genre. 

Marvel comedy isn’t always perfect by any means. In fact, many would argue that it’s forced in some places too. But it is probably the most consistent in terms of comedic value, and when done right, it’s hilarious. If there’s a lesson to be learned here, its that studios should take a second look at the factors that drove Marvel’s success. 

As I stepped into my new dorm in Brandscomb Quad, I was flooded by the tsunami of boxes, heavy luggage, and exasperation from dealing with the bureaucracy of the airport. I had just flown back to Nashville from Baltimore, Maryland. I was in desperate need of sustenance, but I dreaded opening my GET app to find the usual culprits of chicken tenders or burgers that plagued my fall semester. Yet, a miracle descended from the heavens when my eyes glanced upon the glorious words, “Randwich”. Alleluia! I had come to believe that this famous sandwich was an urban legend, a comrade sacrificed in the new Covid-19 protocols of the university. I went through the options and made gasps when I saw I could choose a pretzel roll as my bun and basil aioli as my dressing. Who was this Randwich? This meal item began to take on an identity as I personalized it with my preferences. I grew audibly excited, and my stomach couldn’t have been happier.

I made the short, yet beautiful journey from my humble abode, past the string lights of Rand, and through the black doors to a destiny I never could have imagined. I flashed my Commodore Card for the first time in 2021, and boy, I was not disappointed. As I unveiled the sandwich, I felt like I was going through a religious experience. All throughout the fall semester, I constantly complained to my friends that all I wanted was simple food from the dining hall. I didn’t need complicated gnocchi or grilled, fishy salmon. All I wanted was an old-fashioned sandwich!

As I took my first bite, I basked in this newfound warmth that radiated from the sandwich. My pretzel roll was perfectly toasted with a slight crunch, with a mouthwatering saltiness. The turkey to provolone cheese ratio was so expertly done I wouldn’t be surprised if Gordon Ramsey himself stepped out from the Rand kitchen. The crispy freshness of the lettuce with the smoothness of the basil aioli created a juxtaposition even Shakespeare would be jealous. The homemade chips were like mini-intermissions between the melodic bites of perfection that was my Randwich. To top it all off, my sparkling water washed everything down to create a perfect back-to-campus meal. I was pleasantly surprised at this new option, and so excited to have a meal to look forward to in my new semester once classes get chaotic.

But, another catastrophe struck my freshman experience. Apparently other people seemed to enjoy their Randwich as well. The order ahead option became so busy that I now have to order my Randwich a week in advance. My new bright spot on campus shined too bright, and like moths to a light, starving college students flocked to this beacon. I’m not surprised since this sandwich impacted me in a way I didn’t know was possible, and I know what you’re thinking. Zoe, how can a sandwich impact you? You must not do anything fun. And you would be slightly right, considering we’re in a pandemic, so my food experiences constitute a major portion of how I find enjoyment safely and healthily.

This sandwich was like the fire at the Olympic opening ceremonies. It represented my excitement for new experiences, a craving for collegiate learning, and bravery for trying new things. The Randwich is a symbol of my excitement and hope for this new Spring semester, since the fall left much to be desired. The Randwich has left a permanent impression on me, since it was how I happily reunited with Nashville and Vanderbilt in the middle of this pandemic, filled with so much stress and fear. It may just be a sandwich, but I think we can all find a little hope in the return of this beauty.

Our freshman experience is definitely not what we hoped for, but there’s nothing we can do to change that. I remind myself, and anyone reading this, to focus on your own spheres of control and find hope in the little things. For me, it was the experience of my first Randwich. What will yours be? No matter what it is, just remember to have fun, stay safe, and make memories! Welcome back, Commodores!