Below is a series of email exchanges between Daye and I over the past week and a half. The focus (initially) is on the second episode of the new television adaptation of This American Life. The exchange is lengthy and meanders (happily) into various strands of irrelevant minutiae (much like a genuine conversation should). As much as this conversation proved fruitful for the two of us, it is also an experiment in form. At the end, Daye proposes a new topic and we will be tweaking with the format of posting our exchanges in the future. Again, I want to thank Daye for her patience and enthusiasm in the first of what should be many blogged exchanges. Onward! [Though the entire exchange is available below, Daye has made a much more reader friendly version available at our new “Versus” universe…]

Dear Daye,

So I was hoping to engage in some discourse centered around the second episode of This American Life on Showtime. I think both of us will have the most to say on the third act of the episode about the photojournalist, but the entire episode is fair game. To keep things organized, I though we could first talk about the show in general, then the structure – specific shots and editing techniques, and finally content and any kind of moral questions that arise from the episode.

I don’t know how familiar you are with the radio program, but I feel like this second episode is as close an approximation of the radio program as we’re likely to see. I feel like the pacing may be an issue if the show continues; with three acts and a five minute or so introduction, we’re not going to get the same depth that an hour long radio program has gotten. Further, it’s interesting to me that the only segment on the show thus far is essentially a visual one is the third act about the photographer. I’m convinced that Ira Glass and co. could have done as good (if not better) versions of the other acts on the radio – most of the video is superfluous. On the other hand, there are some great thematic sequences taking place through the images, now that the show is figuring out how to use them – the montage of feet during the first act as well as the fact that the brief testimonials from kids standing in the field get progressively older and their responses more complex are both striking to me. Do you think such things are secondary when putting together something like this? I’m curious what you were thinking (image-wise) as this show was going on, as a filmmaker.

Until next time,
Andy

Hey Antero.

Great start.

I re-watched the second episode and I do agree with the issue of pacing. The one thing I enjoy about the radio show is how much time is put into each act. This morning I listened to “24 Hours at the Golden Apple” and the show being an hour long gave me enough time to find some characters silly and ridiculous, then do a complete 180 degrees on what they were saying, because I found room to search back in my own experiences in order to empathize.

The visuals are lovely and as my film professor would say, its sketchy; those images that make up a tone and feel, creating a sketch of sorts. The elements involved in all the pieces (save for the honest politician) definitely could have stood on their own and given you some idea of what the stories are about. One of the first scenes that struck me comes from the prologue. The composition of Larry blurred in the background with a photo of Ve-ve in the foreground in focus just says so much. It can be read in so many ways, based on your own experiences with love, death, what have you. Good visuals are meant to evoke such emotions.

I agree with you completely on the open field and the young kids. I even found it steeped with sexuality as well, due partly to the music and the slow motion. There is this definite no man’s land these kids are in, some sort of sexual limbo. A 14 year old kid thinking he has it all figured out, when there are 30 year olds who still can’t explain love, sex and romance, is a great example of protecting yourself from your emerging sexuality. I feel the visuals play on that a lot, almost like flirty with the idea of how their answers will change as they mature; physically and sexually, hence the progression of the ages of the kids. That scene had a definite Virgin
Suicides feel for me.

Ira Glass mentions that Josh Seftel collaborated on Act 3. I find that the style is very much the PBS documentary fare. I feel the visuals for Act 2 are better than those in Act 3. The close ups on the kids shoes, as you mention, that struck a cord in me more than the B-roll of the machine in Act 3, any of the footage actually in Act 3, save for the actual photos being spoken about. Of all the stories the third strikes me the most in terms of narrative. The obvious conflict of Halevi’s actions creates a tension that you can feel in your shoulders. The editing and music play an important role when Halevi is speaking about the attempted rescue of the woman and “at the last second something stopped him.” I like their take on the Ken Burns photo pan, as well as letting us see the actual process of creating those shots. There’s something about breaking down that barrier of filmmaking magic and audience that appeals to me.

Now, to the meat of it all. In discussing This American Life coming to television with other filmmakers someone made a very valid point. “When thinking of topics for your documentaries, you have to first ask yourself, is this a story that could only be told visually? Can this story be told and told better on the radio? or by some other medium?” Having said that, I believe the second act plays out better with me imaging the environment and the players involved instead of seeing them. It’s not television worthy. My version of this guy was a tad more smarmy in appearance.

The question of visual worth or not, that’s the thing that will be the make it or break it for This American Life, the television version. Don’t get me wrong I like my visual g-spot hit on a regular basis, but a great narrative with mediocre visuals serves only to annoy and alienate me as the audience.

How’d you feel about Ira Glass sitting behind a desk with the open air mountain scenery?

To the Esteemed Ms. Rogers,

Awesome response, I am floored.

I like your (or at least your professor’s) concept of “sketchy” visuals, though I feel like I need to different with your later point about the b-roll of the machinery in the third act. At least on my cursory views of the episode, the sequence tells a purely symbolic narrative. Notice the machine slowly moving down in the beginning of the act (or is the camera panning up??? Oh snap!). This is accompanied by the eerie drilling/whizzing sound that becomes a signifying motif throughout the act. At the story’s conclusion, when the photographer has been transformed into a new kind of photographer – “I only film happy things” – the camera is seen withdrawing back up into the ether. Can I posit that such a story looks at nothing as grandiose as the fall of man? That this transformation into shamed, haunted, artist is one of redemption, one of finding one’s wings (if such a Hallmark Card/It’s a Wonderful Life metaphor can be accepted here)? To me, this felt like visuals telling a story – and clearly not as blatantly as the children in a previous act swinging swords and “conquering the world” as the boy discusses sex as “pillaging a town or village.” (Note: I realize that my quotes are not correct, but I’m secure in my manliness to misquote easily quotable material.)

Typing the previous paragraph has led me to pose a new question: If we are to look at the final act of the episode as one of transformation – the photographer is not the same at the end of the act, would we consider this to be a positive transformation or a negative one? On the one hand we have this photographer accepting the terrible consequences of his actions and lack therof. However, on the other hand, this is also a man who (to me, based on the images shown) appears now debilitated. Artistically impotent and without risk, where should a photographer like this fit into the discourse of art as a means of social change?

I’m glad you brought up Josh Seftel if only because I am absolutely clueless who he is. Further, I agree that the protagonist of the second act would have been more “smarmy” in a radio adaptation. And to this I come to your last point – I feel like the previous episode was definitely one aided by merely “mediocre visuals.” At least part of this episode is one that could have taken place on the radio with little artistic detriment. And though I suppose I could continue to dwell on the issue, perhaps this is best left to a time-will-tell tabling.

It’s interesting that you bring up Ira sitting at the desk. I feel like this and the colorful icons that appear at the beginning when Ira says “It’s This American Life…” are going to be key elements to the making or breaking of the show. I’d assume that each week, Ira would appear in (or at least green-screened in) a new local each week. This and the title elements are going to either end up the in the hipster-design schmaltziness that plagues folks like Dave Eggers or perhaps lead to a newly respected form of iconic art a la Chris Ware and Chip Kidd. I’m now questioning my comparison of the sequences to graphic designs and should also mention that I indeed enjoy Mr. Eggers’ work (hell, my kids will be reading his book in two weeks!). Maybe this is the problem I’m sensing but unable to phrase; some of the visuals feel iconic or symbolic not necessarily cinematic? Does that make sense? Is that a bad thing?

Until next time,
Andy

Antero.

I do agree with your observations concerning Act 3, yet I still feel the visuals in the school satisfied my visual needs more. And that may be due to my current film project. I am constantly thinking of how to capture compelling images in a classroom and I feel they did a wonderful job at that. I definitely agree that Act3 was shot well,definitely not taking away from the visuals.

Concerning the shame spiral. As I stated Act 3 hit hardest for me in terms of narrative. A fallen man brings us all to this place where we begin to wonder if we too could eventually end up in such an emotional place based on our poor decisions or rather our lack of action when a decision needs to be made.

I do think he’s resigned himself to a safer place. And there is that question of “a positive transformation or a negative one” based on his change. That is hard to say. We bring our own baggage and beliefs to his story and decision. On some days I’d say he’s a better person for realizing his limited ability to make a true change by deciding to take on lighter fare for his photography. Other days, I’d say he’s being weak and needs to face that although he may never again be faced with an actual life or death decision, his work allowed for others being able to make life and death decisions. You can affect change directly, or through your art and your words.

Funny you mention Chip Kidd. I was recently at the ALOUD website and saw he’s going to be speaking in July (I’ve already reserved 4 tickets, so let me know if you’re down). Wow. You’ve ventured into a whole new topic with the “hipster-design schmaltziness.” I am a fan of both Ware and Kidd. I hear your want of cinematic over iconic. But the truth is iconic is iconic regardless of medium. I recently had the pleasure of meeting Albert Maysles, who has created some of the most iconic images in documentary filmmaking. His films are sparse, when it comes to graphical elements to say the least, but the images he’s created are truly iconic, and I would say if the right designer were to attempt to marry graphical elements with Maysles’ visual wonders, it could be profound on another level. If done well graphical elements can fit into the cinematic landscape as a perfect compliment.

I asked what you thought about Glass’ desk placement, because I’m not sure how I feel about it just yet. I’d have to see what they are trying to do there to get a better understanding. At present all I can say about it is, “meh.”

-daye.

Daye,

More than a week after this project began, I am sending my final portion of this back and forth banter over a television episode that will have already been dated by two more episodes by the time our kind reading audience gets to sink their teeth into this. Which brings me to some thoughts before getting to the content of your email. I’m wondering if blogging is the right medium for this kind of discourse and at present am leaning toward affirming its usefulness. Granted, this one episode is likely erased by our readers’ meme by the time they actually read this post. On the other hand, perhaps such a lengthy, participatory discourse lends legitimacy to a fledgling network television show. At least for me, this experience has been one of personal reflection over a half hour show as well as one of “ah-ha!”-discovery from your ever patient explanation of all things film and visual.

Finally back in Los Angeles, I read your blog’s post on Maysles last night and feel like I’ve got to do some more digging into this guy’s filmography. Like Ben, Gimme Shelter is about as far as I can say I can comfortably recognize his work (though arguably, that is one of the most important rock and roll documentaries of all time). As an additional aside, it’s interesting that you juxtapose Herzog and Maysles in your blog entry; I’d recently been thinking about how a scene in Gimme Shelter feels particularly mirrored in Grizzly Man (when Jagger reviews the footage of the stabbing at the concert seems cousin to the sequence of Herzog hearing the death of the reckless bear-lover). You’ve given me plenty to mull over in regards to your discussion of iconic and cinematic and I don’t want to continue to scratch at that topic and prolong this email discussion any further (I’m trying to wrap up my end of things). As for Kidd, however, Rhea and I saw him speak last year at the LA Festival of Books, and it’s great to see he’s every bit as geeky as you’d imagine – and yes, count me in for July.

I’m going to take issue with your wishy-washiness about whether the photographer’s transformation was positive or negative. I’m staunchly standing behind the sense that he’s sacrificed his art for moral value and it’s a decision that’s worsened his art.

Sitting in the airport today, I read through the current issue of the New Yorker and found a review of the Showtime series (along with a pretty great drawing by Adrian Tomine). Though half of the article was an unnecessary critique of the radio program, I mainly took offense with the article’s argument that Ira Glass’ voice is the most detracting aspect of the show – explaining that his babbly, staccato delivery is irritating, I wonder if the writer even has a soul! As much as it takes adjusting to the nasally pitch, I couldn’t imagine a successful TAL episode without the presence of Glass. And because of this (and perhaps in retaliation for my distaste with the New Yorker’s poo-pooing of the show), I’m going to end this by saying I am going to tentatively give the desk in the wilderness idea a stamp of approval. To know that each week, Ira is going to be somewhere out there delivering his stories to the audience is an idea that makes me sleep well at night. And while the show is going to have some tweaking and kinks to work out through the season, I feel like the television medium is one that’s genuinely going to work out.

Daye, thank you again for all of your efforts this far. I’m going to turn this over to you for a final time to wrap up any thoughts you’d like to make before sending this to the publisher!

Andy

Antero.

My wishy-washiness? I don’t think things can be an absolute. As an artist, I can see it both ways and would appreciate if others could at times see it in both ways as well. I do agree that his art has suffered, cause I don’t care about pictures of Sharon Stone and John Edwards. But I wouldn’t want someone who can’t handle their past mistakes being that voice of the voiceless. And no, I don’t think he’s in a better place, but I hate that it’s possible to end up in places we really don’t want to be, but just give in due to fear or shame.

I think this has definitely gone beyond reflection on a 30 minute television show. It’s been good to focus on a TAL episode for the center of my various thoughts, but I definitely found myself thinking about other things when addressing this topic. I’ve been grappling with my current project and this discussion has definitely opened up my mind on that.

Concerning Ira’s voice, LOVE IT. His voice is what pulled me into TAL. He doesn’t have that annoying soft, even toned NPR voice that I’ve grown to hate with the passion and energy of a million suns. I can say I hate the way Ira looks. He has that hipster look that makes me want to throw up on him. You can imagine how much I want to throw up on Ben when I see him, but Ira, he just solidifies that whole generation of North Eastern hipster, and that does distract greatly for me in the television show.

Now, Maysles vs. Herzog. Herzog would say you have to tear it all down, use a gun if need be to force every man, woman and child to understand that they are merely animals. Maysles would say, we don’t celebrate enough of the good in the world. Herzog would say he’s never made a documentary and has no problem staging events in his documentaries (that he would claim aren’t documentaries). Maysles would restrain himself from interacting at all costs, so that he can allow his subjects to reach “sacred territory.” I love both their works, but I love Maysles as a human being; Herzog not so much. I say all this in reply to your comment of Herzog’s cousined sequence of Maysles’ Gimme Shelter. The point is we recycle; consciously and unconsciously. Iconic images scratch at our brain and our hearts. I can’t and won’t say Herzog consciously thought to mirror what Maysles did in Gimmer Shelter, cause I don’t think Herzog would ever admit that someone came before him. But I feel that TAL is a great example of what is possible if we celebrate the good, the ordinary, the extra ordinary, the trite, the everyday life in this country. I would like to see how Maysles and Herzog would approached making a segment for TAL. Maysles would show us a conversation between three three and a half year old kids at breakfast, while Herzog would show us three crack addicts talking about how life and America are eating them alive. Both stories are American, but one is sure to scratch at your mind and soul a tad bit longer. You be the judge of which.

Thanks for starting this project. It’s been fun and definitely got me thinking about things I’ve been putting off. I’d like to throw out a challenge: Children of Men vs. V for Vendetta. You up for it?

-daye.