ParaNorman directed by Sam Fell and Chris Butler – A Film Review

In recent years Hollywood animated movies have began to experiment with more adult and grown up themes. No longer are they seen as simple entertainment aimed at keeping children quiet, but now aim to please across generations of the audience. Films like Shrek (2001) and Toy Story (1995) contained references in both the story and design in relation to their adult viewers. Yet even in these films at times, there seems to be a particular hyperactivity to the pace, a quick cut, fast action style in order to keep the young primary target audiences attention. In a way, ParaNorman (2012) is one of the few animated movies to let the story set the pace.

At times, ParaNorman feels like an indie comedy. With the film beginning with a slow mellow pace to it which, in turn allows it to build the characters at a more naturalistic pace. Characters are introduced at first appearing as the usual caricatures. However, as the film develops you begin to see more of them than first meets the eye. The characters feel natural (at times real – almost) and it’s unusual to say that about an animated family movie.

Although the film is pitched to the audience as a comedy, there’s a real respect and patience in building on dramatic plot points. The jokes are here of course (for adults as well as children) but this really isn’t what separates ParaNorman from other family animated features. In fact, it is unusual in a way that this comedy is defined by its serious dramatic moments.

The film really builds on its characters unlike many comedy films. In a way the film owes a certain debt to Spielberg’s early films and in particular The Goonies (1985). But even these films by comparison are quite conventional and safe. With ParaNorman taking some plot swerves, which you really wouldn’t expect.

The themes here are really quite serious - with the idea of the outsider and the small communal reaction to such a thing. But it goes fervour than this as the film begins to relate itself to the town’s puritan past and its celebration of a witch burning. Here they don’t shy away from this, there is a real confrontation with innocence being persecuted because of societal fear of difference. This is something that I found to be very brave for a family film to deal with – the possibility of extreme outcomes to fear, which extenuates to outward aggression. In turn this parallels with Norman’s dealings with the towns people who look on him as strange because he can speak with dead people.

Overall, I believe this is what the film is fundamentally about. It’s not about visual spectacle; it’s not about the comedy or even to some extent the characters. In this way it could have very easily come across as heavy-handed but because of the craft of the story and narrative this was never the case. In fact, it is important to mention that if it wasn’t for the animation being so visually appealing or the characters being so relatable, (and the actors fulfilling their roles as such) then the film would have been no where near as impactful with its narrative themes.

In truth, because the movie is so engaging it could be discussed all day. Not forgetting to mention that the film has probably the first openly gay character in a family animated film – or the fact that his physique and attitude go completely against distasteful social stereotypes. The point isn’t played up and is only dispelled in what could arguably called a throw away line at the end of the film only goes to show the movies maturity not to dwell on information that overall, has very little significance. The filmmakers should be largely applauded for their achievements and decisions in making this film. What they have managed to achieve somehow is a very intelligent, funny, at times serious film, which is able to extend itself to an unthought-of cross age appeal.

Wreck-it Ralph Directed by Rich Moore – A Film Review

American animation has been dominated in recent years (in cinemas) by two animation companies: DreamWorks and Pixar. So when an animated film comes from another studio it is always interesting to see how they are going to take visuals and story telling differently. Wreck-it Ralph (2012) comes from Disney’s animated studios which, although in the past having a monopoly over cinemas animated features, they have certainly had a sketchy record as of late.

Directed by Rich Moore who previously worked on such animated shows as Futurama (1999 - present), The Simpsons (1989 - present) and cult favourite Drawn Together (2004 - 2008), helms this film about a bad guy who just wants to be good for a change. Ralph himself is a video game character in an arcade game and has always been the villain. When the arcade closes all of the other characters go home to their apartments while Ralph lives alone in a dump. At an anniversary party for his game, Ralph interrupts and an argument ensues. In this everyone accuses him of being mean for constantly destroying things; unaware he has to do this for their game to continue. During this procession Ralph is told he can live with the others if he gets a heroes medal.

This then sets up the rest of the film with Ralph attempting to prove he is good while others stand in his way. It’s a basic adventure story in many ways. Yet the characters seem to have a real flare about them here. There’s times when the humour is slightly childish but the characters feel genuine to the story. There is growth and development as Ralph meets other characters including those from games no longer in circuit. Others appear hostile, yet some remain friendly. Vanellope (Sarah Silverman) is a glitch that wants to be a racer in a Super Mario Kart like game. Although they don’t get along at first, there feelings begin to grow to more positive towards another. At first acting antagonistic, eventually they decide to help one another to try and achieve each other’s goals.

Although this so far may just seem to outline a basic action adventure, it is in fact the character relations and the animator’s love for video games and the world they have created that puts it beyond this. Even with an at times, casual use of childish humour, the film stands out for the whole family.

Again, even though the structure of the narrative is very basic, this kind of structure can (and does) at times work to a stories advantage. Wreck-it Ralph wont change cinema as an art form, it wont change animation or storytelling in general, but what it does is tell a story well, and with enough passion and sentiment to make even the most cynical of us give it a recommendation.

Django Unchained directed by Quentin Tarantino – A Film Review

Like him or loathe him, Quentin Tarantino is a filmmaker who gets audiences talking. His films have always been controversial, from Reservoir Dogs (1992) and it’s similarities with Ringo Lam’s City On Fire (1987), to his latter works such as Kill Bill vol.1 and 2 (2003-2004) and Inglorious Bastards (2009) have attracted much debate.

It has to be said that he has faced some truly unfair criticism over the years. These culls have been aimed at his use of violence in films, an over enthusiastic use of dialogue and his personal comments during interviews. But why are these issues? Violence has been represented in film since the very early years of its inception. What is it then that makes Tarantino’s take on it so different. I believe this comes from the way violence forms out of his scenes. Casual conversations can lead to bloodbaths in the world of Tarantino. At the tip of a hat, violence can rear its ugly head and this visibly unnerves some people. Compare this to another director, Alfred Hitchcock for example was known for his use of suspense. In a suspense film we are warned of the possibility of unwanted violent action, in fact, it is the time between the revelation of an event and its conclusion (the moments of tension) that is referred to in terms of suspense.

In fact if you look at one of Hitchcock’s most controversial scenes of violence from the film Psycho (1960), in the shower scene, the character of Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) is cleansing herself after deciding to give the money back that she had previously stolen. However, it is this moment of redeemed calm that the violent outburst of killer Norman Bates comes into play. Here, like the violence in a Tarantino film was sudden and for lack of a better word, violent. It violates the comfort of the visual spectacle, taking the viewer out of the story and into a sub film, a film within a film, a self contained action that seems forced into the progressive narrative.

Besides, no one is forced to view these works. Of the people who complain of his works they have no need to view them. Yet to digress, the subject of this review is Django Unchained (2012), not Quentin Tarantino as a filmmaker.

Django Unchained is a western in the style of Italian spaghetti westerns. Its serious, brooding and suffers from violent outbursts. But the story is steeped in a violent past. Concerning a protagonist who is a freed former slave seeking revenge against those who once tortured him. Another concern of his is the rescue of his wife who has been sold to another plantation.

Its subject is large in scale and is still a sensitive issue in America to this day. Django in many ways works as a revenge fantasy striking out against the real horrors of the time. Django is a sort of avatar for the audience entering into the time of the pre-civil war American south. He has seen, as we see, the horrors of this place and suffers from its violent outbursts. With this he seeks revenge against a group of people the audience hate (southern plantation owning slavers).

In many ways its similar to how Inglourious Bastards (2009) was a fantasy for Jewish people lashing out against Nazi oppression, Django fills this same void in the avenue of an entertainment spectacle. The violence here is both oppressive and freeing justice, to put it simply, it is a basic attempt to play out serious issues as a sort of morality story (Django good guy, slavers bad guys) and it never gets any fervour than that.

There are hints of more of course, Dr King Schultz (Christoph Waltz) as Django’s mentor and bounty hunter teacher hints at more depth. As a former dentist and his understanding of the English language show that he has had some sort of classical education. He is also latter offended when hearing at a slave plantation the works of Beethoven on a harp, so we know he has an understanding of classical music. But we never find out why or how he came to America, or how he went from being a dentist to becoming a bounty hunter. These pieces of information on there own hint at a complete character but alone are relatively vague and unnecessary. Compare this to in Pulp Fiction (1994) when Jules relates a phrase he said early in the film to a robber he has at gun point and himself in terms of the path of a righteous man. This in a way helps to bring the film full circle and relates a phrase he use to say because he thought it was cool, to him now contextualising this information in relation to himself and his situation.

It’s the loose ends in Django that derives the film from its possible emotional impact. The film is quite distorted at times. Some scenes have little correlation to the overreaching narrative. Scenes are set up to seemingly add depth to characters however they are left with no follow up. One scene has Dr Schultz discussing the importance of fulfilling a bounty no matter what your emotional disposition may tell you. In the process Django kills a man on a small farm at distance, however, after the gunfire’s a small boy runs to the laying body. Never again is this idea of hesitation discussed again or even put into the action of a scene.

Characters and story arcs are dropped or feel at times as though left undeveloped. One of the defining aspects of the film is the relationship between Django and Schultz, although there is never really any development between the two of them. When they meet, Schultz frees Django and they become friends, but from there nothing really progresses between them. This distinct lack of growth stands out as in road trip/ adventure films when new characters meet; there is usually some sort of bond formed. This in latter scenes develops between scenes where the characters help one another or slowly begin to gain each other’s trust (or lose said trust). In this they make a switch from being strangers to friends, which, in the audiences minds strengthens their bond to them.

Like the characters, the audience also travels upon these journeys, and as we are voyeurs in this situation we associate ourselves with the characters on screen. But if there is a lack of situations where characters (as I have previously stated) can strengthen their bond it limits how relatable characters can be to the audience.

Another problem that was frustrating was the fact that once Django found his wife; he discovered that she had been previously trying to escape before he came to her plantation. Nevertheless, in a latter gunfight his wife has the opportunity to escape when she is left alone in a room, but instead she chooses to stand still waiting to be rescued. This goes aggressively against what we have previously heard about here. More than that, it has belittled a possibly interesting and courageous female character into the damsel in distress stereotype.   

Loose threads like this are really scattered all over the film. Schultz’s character is a former dentist, a German man in America, and an educated man at that. At one point in a plantation he is offended when he hears Ludwig Van Beethoven’s Für Elise being played on a harp – so we know he has an understanding of classical music. But how, how has this educated German man ended up in the south, as a bounty hunter? It is not as though he is poor and financial limits caused an ill disposition, he appears to choose to do so. Why? Well, the film provides no answers.

To be entirely fair, there are enjoyable points and sequences in Django Unchained. But the biggest problem remains that none of the overreaching narrative really joins together and in the end, it feels as though the script needed a bit more redrafting before production. Points needed connecting or cutting. Without this organisation really a film will just seem to be a bit of a mess. 

Jackie Brown directed by Quentin Tarantino – A Film Review

Following on from his widely successful film Pulp Fiction (1994), Jackie Brown (1997) based on the Elmore Leonard’s 1992 novel Rum Punch was a certainly a more subtle than Tarantino’s previous works. The film starring 70s Blaxploitation star Pam Grier, is a crime genre film that at it’s heart, questions the subject of middle age and the troubles that can come with it.

Jackie (Grier) is an airhostess who has just been caught smuggling in money for Ordell (Samuel Jackson) a gun smuggler wanted by the police. In order to skip prison time, she is advised by the officers interviewing her to set up her boss. Agreeing to do this, Jackie sets into motion a plan that will lead to her eventually getting one over on everyone and stealing Ordell’s money during the process of a sting operation. Intending to do so with the help of bail bondsmen Max Cherry (Robert Forster).

Although the previous summary may give the impression that the film is going to be one big lead up to a huge heist situation, this in fact never seems to be the case. Though the setup is important to the over reaching narrative, the majority of the film is in fact spent with the characters going about in more everyday situations. Even though Jackie and Max do discuss their intended plans we find out more about them as people than what they intend to do latter on. The same could be said with Ordell who is a gun pusher; yet, there is only one scene in the film where he discusses this in any real detail.

As much as the story is about a heist it is about middle age. Jackie and Max for example are unhappy with their lots in life. Both are in there forties, both single, with no children and jobs they no longer care for. They each are at a loss with their best days behind them; questioning what is next for them. In a way, their attempt to find an escape from their mundane lives leads them to each other. And in turn, this becomes one of the key developing aspects of the movie.

In contrast to this, many of the other characters in the film are defiantly trying to resist growing old. Ordell has structured for himself a group of young girls who he sleeps with on a casual basis. He’s able to do so because he provides for them on a financial basis and in return they feel pressured to repay him for this generosity. His reasons for doing this are simple; he does so to feel young again. In fact in one seen he prides himself on the fact that one of them is so young. But still, he fears them leaving him - later in the film; we see the young girl who he previously stated he provides for is in fact now a drug addict. While it isn’t stated that he had anything to do with her becoming an addict, it certainly does hint at this in the subtle revelation.

Another character obsessed with a past youth is the “young cop” Ray Nicolette played by Michael Keaton. The young cop struts around in a biker’s leather jacket, in interviews or in other quiet scenes it can be heard to squeak at any subtle movement. The jacket itself is a symbol of his lost youth. A trinket that reminds him both of his younger days and also stands as a hold onto the former rebellious side of his personality.

Louis Gara (Robert De Niro) also attains to youth. A crime partner to Ordell, he becomes fascinated by Melanie (Bridget Fonda) who is one of Ordell’s girls. Eventually they have sex – with him coming to orgasm in three minutes. After this though he begins to realise how different they are. Her youthful energy and constant verbal diaria begin to annoy him to the point where he lashes out against her. In a way this could be seen as him violently lashing out at his acceptance of his older age. By sleeping with her he hoped to prove his virility, however instead it has inversed him onto his own insecurities. As time went on with her their verbal interactions only reinforced the age gap between the two of them. Here his own insecurities are the problem, yet he cannot accept this. Instead he must externalise his anger, and he does this by lashing out at Melanie during an argument.

If you are to look at the narrative itself it is very well crafted and put together. Scenes blend seamlessly together as the story allows itself to have a nice slow build. Towards the last hour the film may feel to some that it is slowing slightly, but for those who are patient the build up is suitably paid off towards the end.

Presentation wise the film is all class. The key actors all give excellent performances. The direction and cinematography of the piece are also strong positives, but it’s defiantly the script and the performances that make this one standout. Of Tarantino’s works, this is arguably the best put together of his films. There is a real maturity and assuredness about the story and its presentation, which unfortunately appears to be lacking in his latter films. 

Yet, even for those not interested in the conventional Tarantino canon this film is worth a look. It’s a film that deals with getting older and questioning ones lot in life, it’s a Hollywood film that deals with character over thirty and takes them seriously! Surely, for reasons like this alone, Jackie Brown is worth a look? 

Russian Ark directed by Alexander Sokurov – Film Review

The film is mesmerising to say the least. For those unaware of Alexander Sokurov, many critics consider him as the foremost Russian filmmaker today. In Russian Ark (2002) he takes his audience on a surreal journey through the Hermitage museum. During the journey, the film seems to pass through time from the age of Russia’s Tsars up to the dawn of the October revolution. Also, the film is a sort of milestone, in the fact that it was filmed and presented in one continuous uncut shot. Because of this the film retains a kind of dream like quality as the camera floats through location set pieces.

In terms of perspective we follow the movements and journey of an unknown narrator (voiced by Sokurov himself) as he walks through the museum. Along the way he meets a strange European aristocrat who he engages in conversation. The aristocrat himself has a strange mysterious quality about him. He seems, at times, to appear and simultaneously (after varying conversations) disappear. Also his mood changes at different points, taking mysterious uneasy swings. At times, he appears friendly and happy in his disposition, yet at others he appears agitated, angry and abrasive. Overall though, his behaviour does end up adding to the feeling of a dream like event unfolding, with their inability to control the surreal and at times, antagonistic instances unravelling before them.

Set pieces within the film appear seamless in their choreography. They really do work well, with their timing and the layout of these pieces so concisely executed.

If there were any small faults with the film though they would most likely come from the length of the piece itself. The film itself isn’t to long (around 100 minutes) but it does slump in some points where it is transitioning from one set piece to another. However, that’s not to say this is always the case. In fact, it is during these points that some of the more memorable moments appear. In particular, one that stood out to myself was the camera gliding along a room in which an aristocratic lady was discussing her fear for her children’s safety as revolutionaries are fast approaching. It’s the small moments like this that really stick out in viewing Russian Ark. The set pieces themselves (although interesting) would be visual gimmickry without real substance to pull the audience into the world of the film.

There is something really quite unique here. Alexander Sokurov has managed to create a film that is both a large-scale spectacle and a genuinely intimate look at Russian history. For a film that is so surreal and large in scale it is interesting in how well it was able to catch and focus on small moments between individual characters without having to rely on an 'every man' protagonist. The closest the film comes to this is the unknown narrator, although he never really becomes the primary focus of the film. We see through his eyes yes, but we are not supposed to relate to him on a character level. Instead we are supposed to embrace his perspective. He, like all that we see before us is part of the museum. He is part of the past, a memory of what has been, and in reality, that is what this film was supposed to be. It’s the scars and memories of what once were in the Hermitage of Russia, a recount of memories of what once was for those who do not know this places story.

The Hobbit, or how many gimmicks can a studio lay on a film in order to sell a well-known story to their already pre-established audience?

(The following article was written in December 2012 and may need future alteration.) 

J. R. R. Tolkien’s book The Hobbit (1937) is recognised by most as a classic of children’s literature. It was also the precursor to the widely successful Lord of the Rings trilogy (1954 – 1955), which had previously been adapted to film too much critical acclaim by director Peter Jackson (2001 - 2003).

When the film trilogy came to an end, much discussion was brought up as to whether The Hobbit would itself be adapted to the screen. As the previous adaptions of Tolkien’s works had been such financial successes it didn’t take long for an answer to be made, and fans waited in much anticipation. When years of preproduction passed without much progression being made (the original man set to direct Guillermo Del Toro, signed on and then dropped out of the project.) Filming finally began in 2011, with the book adaption being arranged into three parts.

At this news both fans and critics alike were both sceptical about how a three hundred-page book could be made into three movies? Was there really enough material here? At this point, the studio went into overdrive in order to explain the move. It seemed in fact that the news had been misleading; The Hobbit itself would be the source for two films, whilst the third film would fill in the information on what happened between The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

With this information the fans were again even more excited. Unlike the Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit would be allowed the time to fully explore the books narrative, without the need to cut much information.

Coming up to the films release the fans were further informed that the film was going to be filmed in 3D and shot at 48 fps. Although most people remain sceptical of 3D, I remained open-minded to the experience. The news of the films 48 fps shooting however persisted to puzzle myself. I had previously seen very few films that had been shot in a similar frame rate (these mostly being experimental short films shot at 40fps) yet I remained curious to see how this would look on the big screen.

Many critics had varying opinions in the early weeks of the films release so when I entered my Imax screening I was slightly wary of what was to come. Overall the film itself was stunning in terms of its visuals. The sound design also shinned with a stunning sound track similar to that of Jackson’s previous Lord Of The Rings Trilogy. But what of the new technologies employed? How have they changed the experience? Well, they really didn’t alter that much. The frame rate itself did give (as was advertised) a more realistic look in most instances. The actor’s motions seemed smoother, yet the 3D itself remained relatively unchanged. Problems mainly arose from the area of visual presentation. At times, costumes and sets seemed a little staged – to inauthentic even. Fast motion also appeared choppy and jarring to the viewer. This latter disturbed shots which were meant to show large landscapes and vistas, however the camera seemed to move to fast and actors in the distance looked as though they had been sped up.

The 3D itself was good but this enhanced nothing. It seemed mostly to be an overpriced gimmick to impress those who embrace it.

Yet, what of the film itself? Ok, the film was impressive. It presented some fantastic visual imagery, but overall, there seemed to be a lot of padding to the story. The film just seemed to be a bit bloated. There was no real pace or bite to it. As it went on the spectacles got warring and whole sections of the film seemed to grind it to a halt.

Yes the film was entertaining, but that is no excuse to give the film a pass on its sloppy editing and pacing. What this film needed was an editor who would cut down on the extensive excess. What it had, was a yes man who enthralled himself on the commands of an overenthusiastic producer/director. This will forever stand as an example of excess filmmaking and excessive ego.

The film is based on a book, a relatively short book which, has now for money purposes been stretched into two films (three if you count the third connecting The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy). But why? For what reason has this been done? Is Hollywood scared people wont want to see it without some kind of new twist? Why should it be? The Lord of the Rings trilogy made, combined, nearly three billion dollars. To be honest I don’t think their scared, yet I still struggle to understand why they keep placing more and more gimmicks onto each new blockbuster. In repeated instances critics have spoke of their thoughts on 3D – from Mark Kermodeto Roger Ebert, or even the general public in research from 3D Focus, The Huffington Post and blunt film website Screen Rant suggest audiences are unsettled by this.

Although, in the end the movie itself may not be that significant in the overall film canon, it’s use of innovative presentation methods may influence the future of Hollywood cinema. Therefore it remains important for audiences to make themselves heard in these instances of opinion. Audiences must vote with their wallets. It is through this method that large production companies will gain a fuller understanding on the public consensus.

As the technology presently is, there are defiantly problems with presentation – with both the uses of 48fps and 3D technologies. There is of course the chance and possibilities of future improvement. But is this a feasible expectation for these new expensive technologies? Who knows? Only the future will show how these issues will finally develop upon a concessive conclusion.

Oz – Breakdown of a show

In the advent of mainstream television there are few shows that attempt to both experiment with the rules of conventional television and push boundaries so successfully as the HBO original series Oz (1997 – 2003). The show itself is primarily based around the prisoners and staff at Oswald State Correctional Facility (Oz); with most of the storylines themselves taking place within Emerald City. Emerald City itself is a unique freer roaming ward in the prison and within it, the prisoners are allowed to socialise and interact more freely with one another - under less strenuous supervision than other parts of the penitentiary.

There is something defiantly fresh about the shows format. It features a large ensemble cast with multiple intertwining stories with no one series protagonist to tie all of the action together. More so, it is the prison itself, which fulfils this task, the prison, its location and relation to the characters that connects everyone in the show.

Each episode also features a guide to the story in the form of narration. This narration, or prologue connects the loosely intertwined stories and provides outside insight as food for thought to the audience. The narration itself is unlike any seen before on television. It informs in overview from an impartial perspective yet injects something of foresight into the latter stories developments. To some it could be described as a more modern take on the Roger Sterling narration provided in the Twilight Zone (1959 - 1964), however there does appear to be a definite influence which dates further, to the prologues of Shakespeare even. With the way in which the information is being laid out, standing out as a precursor to what will or may soon unfold.

In it’s presentation of character development the show really stood out for its time and in many ways continues to do so. Character development in the show itself is novelistic. Actions and stories are given an even amount of time to build in progression. This allows for a good burn of conflict and really helps when the end of a storyline finally receives its payoff. In this way the shows format could be related to that of a soap opera. This is by no means meant as a denunciation, but instead as a complement. In soap operas, stories and characters are set out in a way that we can read them as we choose. Where one viewer may see a bitter person, another may see sorrow. In a good story it is the audience who is allowed to deduct their own conclusion on a situation, which is something Oz allows its audience to do coherently on a regular basis.

Character developments throughout the series also stream in a natural form of progression. They change over time from being archetypes into fully developed, multi-layered characters. All of their issues and problems are revealed slowly as varying stories are presented to the audience. Relationships are explored as issues of family, friends, rivalry, racism, violence, rape, regret and redemption are all examined throughout the shows run. That’s not to say that these issues haven’t been explored before or since in other prison dramas, yet here in Oz the resulting fallout feels real. An undercurrent of realism pulsates throughout, which in itself is one of the defining aspects of the series.

The overall presentation of the show also feels very new and raw. There is a definite level of experimentation in the direction, cinematography and editing of Oz. It is something that is rare in American television and at times, it is reminiscent of student filmmaking. With that said, it does however continue to emphasise a professional tone and never veers into amateur territory in its experimentation: overall I’d say that this in the end adds to the shows arrangement and general feeling of unpredictability.

Although Oz never seemed to set out to change the advent of television, it certainly (at least vicariously) marked its influence on the televisual programming. Its influence can be felt in other HBO shows which followed such as The Sopranos (1999 – 2007) and The Wire (2002 – 2008), and current shows like Boardwalk Empire (2010 – present). What perpetrated through from Oz was its brand of novelistic television. The idea that through taking time you can develop richly detailed, multi layered characters. That by allowing a slow burn in their development, you can implement a natural progression into the story. This is not to say that Oz was the sole definer of this style though, as predecessors like St Elsewhere (1982 - 1988) and Hill Street Blues (1981 – 1987) also implemented a more in-depth style of development for multiple characters. But unlike the previous shows, Oz was the first to fully realise the potential of the medium and style in question.

It could be argued then that for a small prison drama, Oz certainly went over the odds in its achievements, and in a way this is true. But I think the lesson to be learned here doesn’t necessarily relate to the shows location. In fact the true lesson here is based more on context. The fact that the show is based in a prison has no bearing on how good or bad a show may be. Instead what made Oz the show it was, was the fact that above all else the writing was put first. Characters, scenarios and the developments they follow, were put far beyond what they had been in preceding TV shows. Situations and what was going on were given the utmost attention by the writers, directors and actors. Because the stories were so well written, so well directed and roles so accurately portrayed on screen, Oz got the audience interested. It got us watching, it got us invested in the actions and characters being presented before us. None of them were innocent, of course not, but through the writing of the show we were informed upon some small part of each of the characters personality which allowed you, at least to a small extent, to have sympathy for them.

The style of which I’ve spoken seems all too familiar now, with shows such as Game Of Thrones (2011 – present) and Boardwalk Empire spending millions of dollars per episode, it seems a long time ago since this style was first implemented on HBO television. And, although these shows deserve to be marked on their own merits, it is also important to remember the cornerstones that laid the way before them. And these shows too will eventually fade away, it is important (I believe) to remember what made them successful. So that in years to come we can take new steps and push even further the medium of television as a form of storytelling.