Here's a post I've fantasised about doing for a long, long time. I've pretty much mentally mapped out what i want to write, and have handwritten a lot of it. Granted, all of this occurred during exceedingly boring university tutorials and lectures, but it's something that I've wanted to write for a long time.

A while ago I mentioned a new way of doing my own movie reviews in a post back in March. I've tweaked it and refined it so that it's overly complex, so confusing and without rules that, well, only the mind of Thomas can comprehend it. I'm a very considerate blogger. Now, to write out these movie battles, I've also had to hearken back to my high school English education and draw on all that marvelous and wonderful stuff that, at the time, I didn't particularly see a longterm use for (I guess that school was just preparing my to write movie reviews on my blog).

The first combat that I ever thought of was Amélie vs. Garden State, two films that I do hold dear. One has the ever-so exquisite Audrey Tautou while the other has the stunning Natalie Portman. In my opinion, these are the two actors (I've come around to call both actors and actresses actors now) that could go on to become big things in Hollywood and secure a rank of immortality in history. But, then when I think really about it, they might be facing an uphill fight (Audrey Tautou is French and not an American and shys away from modern notions of celebrity and fame, while Natalie Portman refuses to do nude scenes, isn't modern 'celebrity' either and hasn't (nor will I predict) follow in the traditional footsteps of modern actors, and then there's the problem that she manages to pick the odd dodgey film to act in). Anyway, these two films are among my all time favourites because I recognise them as the best films yet that either actor has stared in. Others would argue against this, but because this is my blog, it's the truth.

I've sung the praise of Amélie before, and repeatedly. Here is the most notable example (and I always thought that I had published that in early '07, when it was, after all, December '06). I've always liked that post, and 'Mr. Rabbit' sang its praise (I think) once as well. But I've never felt that I've done it justice. And I've never touched on Garden State even once, which I'm ashamed at. But no more! With the all new Thomas Movie Review System 2007, I'm attempting to convey both my admiration of both films and why I believe them to be cinematic masterpieces and vastly underrated.

Let's start with the review system. There's a range of categories that I'll judge both films by that will no doubt vary between the films. This variation occurs because the two films I compare have similarities with each other, and they've been paired for this reason. Next time, when I pair together The Star Wars Saga against The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, while there will be some categories that have to cross over, what makes Star Wars and Lord of the Rings great are different to what makes Amélie and Garden State great. What's going to be focused on here is technical and story aspects, because that's what resides with you when you've finished watching these films. Each category has only one winner (unless there are exceptional circumstances) and the winner gets one point (or two, again, pending circumstances). If a film does a disservice to itself or the category, then it may get a negative point, but that will be rare. Anyway, after all that boring explanation stuff, it's time to get into it.

Let's start with the main protagonist. They are, after all, of the most importance to any film. We are not, for the moment, considering the actors' portrayal of each character, rather the characters themselves. Amélie Poulain is, and I can't believe I'm about the type this, the main character of Amélie. Here we have a character that could be construed as cliché by someone who doesn't appreciate the film or the simple-complex character. Because that's what we have here - Amélie is such a simple character, but as the film progresses, and what we first perceived as simple turns out to be a façade that Amélie has built up to protect he extremely complex and teetering true self. Amélie, through some basic movie techniques, becomes a very familiar character, and ultimately, much more relatable to the audience. I find myself empathising with Amélie right up to the end of the film, and finally, when she manages to find what she has been looking for through the whole movie (an untangled and 'simpler' life, and the ability to love), a welling of emotions and the feeling that she's going to be alright.

Amélie's complexity, as stated, is far from apparent in the beginning. And it's Amélie simplicity, thus, that attracts us to her from the outset. It's a change from the emotionally distraught (or perhaps emotionally unavailable, and thus unrelatable, as we see in quite a few Hollywood films) characters that flood our screen. This is, of course, in contrast to how Amélie is established by the film's introduction - she is a shown to have quite a varied and peculiar childhood. After meeting adult Amélie, I initially wonder why she appears to be so normal. Because she can conduct herself in a way that appears to fly in the face of psychological animosity, we are drawn to her. Then, come 'the fateful event' that acts as catalyst to the unfolding of the film, and as the film steadily progresses to its conclusion, we, at a more rapid rate, realise that Amélie battles her past, her problems and her complexity in a way that almost seems familiar to the audience. And why shouldn't it? The audience doesn't need to be fooled into thinking that either Amélie's problems or their own are of no consequence to either party, and thus another front of relatability is opened on the audience.

To sum up Amélie Poulain: it's the character's relatability, in my opinion, that makes this character so key to the film, because the film, as a whole, attempts to and succeeds in being relatable. It's beauty and simplicity (on a separate level from that I was discussing with Amélie) would fall flat if the audience couldn't relate to the journeys that Amélie embarks on and is metaphorically pushed down. It would take a mighty character to overthrow Amélie from gaining the first points in this movie battle indeed.

Andrew Largeman is one of the most masked characters I've ever seen in film. I tried to think of a metaphor for him, and the best I could come up with was a mask, inside of and onion, wearing a mask, wearing an apple skin. Once you think you've figured out Andrew, you then see him in a new setting, with new influences and he acts in a totally different way than what you would expect of him. But, most importantly, he isn't complex for complexity's sake, nor is he overly complex. He is just unpredictable and, strangely enough, what I perceive as real. Andrew has to contend with real problems, he has to deal with real people, and he finds himself in contexts, environments and settings. Andrew, and thus what revolves around him in the film, is real. It's not so far to stretch the mind to see a movie like this happening for the most part. Amélie, on the other hand, requires a little more of a stretch. But is Andrew any more of a real character than Amélie because of the entirety of the film?

It is my belief that that isn't an important question when comparing the two films. It's whether Andrew is more or less relatable than Amélie that is important for a character comparison. Without a relatable character, the film suffers. And when watching Garden State I come to notice one things - I am more 'invested' in the other characters that revolve around Andrew rather than in Andrew himself. While Andrew is construed as this real and 'sterile' character who has been dumbed down by medication and suppressed emotions, the people around him are not so, and you find yourself drawn to the people that come into contact with him. But, after the establishing shots of the film - Andrew in a cabin of hysteric people on a plane about to crash where he simply adjusts the air vent calmly; Andrew lying in his white bed with nothing other than a phone in the room creating a very bland, uncolored, uninteresting and (important to note) unrelatable setting that Andrew lives in - we find that this is precisely how Andrew is meant to be - unrelatable. And while this pushes and helps the film to no end, it, ultimately, costs Garden State the one point for main character comparison.

Score:
Amélie [1]
Garden State [0]

Now, for a comparison for the two people who bring the previously compared characters to life. Audrey Tautou is Amélie. I don't think that sentence can convey the meaning that I want to send out. Audrey Tautou, in front of the camera, in the film Amélie, really is Amélie. If I were to ever meet Tautou, I would fully expect her to be Amélie. And I'd be surprised if she wasn't. She not only brings this character to life on the screen, she brings her to life in you - you believe that Amélie can, and does, exist by her performance.

To further the argument to Audrey's side, her style is sublime. The uniqueness and individuality and the quirks that she brings to the role gives that lively edge to Amélie. And then you just watch her on the screen, not in the role of Amélie, and she owns any shot she is in. She can captivate the audience simply by looking at it. She has the ability to tug on the emotions of the audience with just the facial expressions that she can produce. A smile from Audrey Tautou in this role makes you smile back. When Amélie finally finds herself and what she's been after the whole movie (either consciously or subconsciously) you actually feel happy for her as long as you're not afraid to become 'involved' with the film. And it's not a hard thing to do with Audrey Tautou enticing you to.

I believe Zach Braff has pulled the short straw on this one. Braff is a fantastic actor, and without-a-doubt an actor I would much prefer to see in movies than in the television show Scrubs. I believe Braff has the ability to do so much more and become one of the leading figures in Hollywood, and Garden State was a good start. In fact, it was a fantastic start. Braff, in a contrast to all of his other roles, doesn't rely on his natural comedic abilities, nor his ability to get emotion across. Instead, he manages to effectively stifle all of Andrew's emotions and feelings and expressions to the living-comatose state that Andrew has been medicated into. It's a difficult task, and a task well done by Braff.

But Zach Braff is no Audrey Tautou. Braff, while he has the ability to hide emotion, doesn't have the ability that Tautou has to fleetingly betray what Amélie is feeling on the inside. This hearkens back to the beauty that is the Amélie character, but also acts as a testament to Tautou's abilities as an actor. A simple, adjusted, expression at the right time, in the right context, is all that it takes. I find it hard to believe that Braff wrote Largeman as a blank piece of paper that had not real emotion inside, especially when we see his breakdown and later expression of love for the woman he meets on his return journey. And because this emotion exists inside of him, build up over the years, I also find it hard to believe that not even an ounce of it would have crept out once in the movie at a part that betrays Andrew's real feelings.

In summary: while Braff is a fantastic actor, and in my opinion has his best role and performance in Garden State, Audrey Tautou manages to streak ahead with her portrayal of Amélie. Braff's ability to stifle all emotion is what lets him down in the face of Tautou's ability to become Amélie and to make you believe that she is the character - and that the character is a real human being.

Score:
Amélie [2]
Garden State [0]

Garden State finally comes to a point where it has a chance to catch up to its competition. Amélie and Audrey Tautou were formidable opponents indeed, but, when comparing the supporting characters and cast of the two films, as I previously stated, Garden State needed to, and did, excel in this department. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Here we compare the two main characters who help Amélie and Andrew Largeman through their journeys. The two I have selected are Sam, as portrayed by Natalie Portman, and Nino Quincampoix, as portrayed by Mathieu Kassovitz from Garden State and Amélie respectively.

Sam is a quirky character, on par with Amélie. They are both similar in some respects (they both are on a journey to find a better self, and in the case of these two films, that is through 'true' love; they both understand themselves, but struggle for others to see them for who they are; the two characters are 'colour' in their films) but, as is the case for their roles in their films, they do differ. Sam provides relief and animation in contrast to Andrew Largeman's sterile and subdued characteristics. Sam is partly there for some comedy against the seriousness that prevails in Andrew's life. But same is also stability, reason and another 'way' through the journey. How so? Because Sam brings into Andrew's life real stability, not the pseudo-crutch that the drugs he takes provide. She also is the single influence that reanimates Andrew which sets him on a more fulfilling and eventful journey. And, of course, Sam, like all great supporting characters, has the big serious speech that knocks Andrew and the crowd (when they actually think about it) to the floor when they should be. For example, Sam, after it being revealed to all that she lied about why she had a helmet with her, says that the real reason she had to carry it was that she had epilepsy, and needed it to stay employed (in case she had a fit and hurt herself). In response to this, Sam provides a nice little theory on self-perception:

"The helmet I was wearing... Oh come on, that's funny. That's really funny, I mean I'm the only person who wears a helmet to work who isn't putting out fires or racing for NASCAR. But what do you do, I can't quit... their insurance is amazing, what do you do? You laugh. I'm not saying I don't cry but in between I laugh and I realize how silly it is to take anything too seriously. Plus, I look forward to a good cry. It feels pretty good."

It's in typical Braff style (to turn a serious issue into part-comedy), but it's the essence of Sam the character that enables us to take a look at ourselves and laugh. Eventually this turns into a prelude to the closing of the film when Andrew and Sam have had their good, long stares at themselves, had their "laughs", and then each have their respect "good cry".

Sam is instrumental in Andrew's discovery of the end of his journey and the beginning of his new one. Without a doubt if the two were not there to compliment one another then the movie would be dead in the water. Sam brings the life to this film with the other supporting characters. It cannot be stressed enough that while Sam does all of the above, it is in conjunction with all those other secondary characters, and they are all actors in Andrew's journey.

As with the Andrew Largeman character, Nino Quincampoix got the raw end of this deal. The character is lively, individual and unique in much of the same fashion of Sam and Amélie, but he just isn't as interesting as the two. He is intriguing, but just doesn't go that extra step to grab hold of my interest and keep it maintained. Nino also suffers from a problem you rarely ever see. The minor characters that help Amélie, though are of less importance when compared to Nino, are as uniquely detailed, familiar and relatable as he (though less fleshed out), leading to him blending into the background at times, when he should be off the shoulder of Amélie. I fail to see how this is the reason for having Nino, as I would put the finger on him to be one of the two main influences on Amélie through her journey (the other being Raymond Dufayel, who might have warranted his own section of comparison with Mark from Garden State).

Further, Nino doesn't act the catalyst that Sam does. The night of Princess Diana's death is readily acknowledged by the narrator as the trigger. The argument could be made that Sam isn't the trigger, rather Andrew's mother's death is, however, I would then argue to you that Andrew would have returned to LA in the same, drugged out and melancholic state that he left in had he never met Sam. Thus Andrew would have never changed, and he would have had no stage of self-discovery, self-awareness or chance to redesign the path of his journey. Nino, as I see it, doesn't play this same, pivotal role. He certainly is instrumental, though not the linchpin that Sam is.

To sum it up: Amélie suffers its first defeat in comparison of secondary characters. While the entire array of characters that both films present, if compared as an entirety, would have seen a much more difficult and hard fought battle, Sam up against Nino is, in my opinion, a no-brainer.

Score:
Amélie [2]
Garden State [1]

We come to contrast, now, the two actors behind the previously compared characters. Natalie Portman, as Sam, provides, in this blogger's opinion, one of the top two performances of her career. But can Mathieu Kassovitz come out from behind the eight-ball with his portrayal of Nino Quincampoix? It's a mighty task, and anyone who has looked around this blog would have seen the answer already, but I'd like to at least justify why I believe Portman leaves Kassovitz in the cold.

My adoration for Natalie Portman is no secret, and may (likely to) have clouded my vision here. I make no lies of it. But, the important thing to remember is that this really was a standout performance for Portman in amongst the dreaded Star Wars prequels. Two films of hers came out at the same time, and she won a Golden Globe (Supporting Actress) for her performance in Closer and was nominated for the same Academy Award. In my opinion, this role was the better of the two. Anyway, that's just my opinion in general about Natalie Portman's career - what about her showing in Garden State? It's perfect. It's a massive difference from earlier work, and strangely, such is Portman's acting ability, you can forget all those other roles as she draws you in on the film you're watching there and then. Any scene that she is in, you're concentrating on. Her performance is so spectacular that you're mind only wanders in as much as you wonder what's happening with the film.

Sam is such a complex character and could have easily been a detriment to the film. That would only happen if the character was portrayed by someone who, really, didn't have the skills to pull it off. Portman has, quite possibly, the same acting style as Audrey Tautou bar one thing - where Tautou is demure and somewhat unassuming, though certainly in possession of the scene, Portman has a strong and dominating (when there is a need for it) presence on the screen. If Sam is to stand out or be the tallest tree, then Portman steps up to the plate. If Sam needs to step away from the spotlight, Natalie is able to do that just as well. I would throughly enjoy comparing similar, main roles that Portman and Tautou had, if they have had any that is. But regardless, we aren't comparing those two, we are comparing Natalie to Mathieu.

Natalie also has the ability to send out strong emotions. Where Audrey perhaps has a limit to how she can express the strongest of emotions at the highest degree (fits of rage; crying; ecstasy etc.) Natalie seems to have no problem. I dare to say that Portman also can convey and evoke as much with a smile as Tautou, if not a degree more. I attribute this to the 'foreign divide' (which I will discuss later) but it's something that must be considered. I have distinct memories from Garden State, and all of them are of Natalie convey the strongest of emotions - a bright smile, a believable laugh, crying in the phone booth. And this is a true symbol of a memorable, strong and relatable character - and she is merely portraying a secondary character.

Most importantly, it is Sam's relatability through Portman that saves Garden State. We have established Andrew as, for the most part, sterile and shut-off. Sam is far from that. She is lovable and kind and interesting and unique. But, quite easily, with the wrong casting, Sam could have been an obnoxious lier who the audience comes to loathe. Portman doesn't allow for that, and you have no option other than to love Sam.

And we come to Mathieu Kassovitz who has the impossible task of besting Portman's glowing performance. Unfortunately, I cannot say that he did. In fact, I don't think he came as close as one might think. Certainly he is a superb actor and knows what he is doing, but in comparison to Portman, we have another Braff - at the end of the short straw. Kassovitz manages to put the quirks into Nino that is required to make him of interest and similar to the strange display of characters that surround Audrey. A man who collects discarded photo booth photos would naturally have antisocial tenancies - Kassovitz manages to convey these quite effectively. I could almost believe that he lived all alone and worked in an adult entertainment store, was a recluse (in the barest of senses) to the world and had lost his direction, while enjoying getting lost.

But it's this almost that leaves him short. There is something between Kassovitz' efforts in this role and the believability that doesn't connect as well as the three previously mentioned characters. I have one memory of him in my mind from the film (though, of course, more if I tried to think of them) and that is his reaction through the plate glass at seeing Amélie. But the smile and the expression that Kassovitz puts on isn't exactly clear. It's slightly ambiguous - and not in an effective way. While the character should be clearly excited and elated at finding, who he believes, is the woman he has been searching for (the woman who has been playing the intriguing games with him), it's more the look of seeing an old friend. While I couldn't fault the man for one wrong thing in a perfect film, it's quite enough to suffer a defeat from Natalie Portman.

To sum up: Natalie Portman is the Audrey Tautou to Garden State. What we have in her is the distinct ability to bring the movie, her's, and other's characters to life. The colour, the emotion and the vibrant display of talent that comes from Portman in this role is undoubtedly one of her best, and really deserves recognition (more than it received). This, of course, isn't at the expense of Mathieu Kassovitz, nor to his detriment. He is a wonderful actor and manages to do what is asked of him in the film, just not as clearly, or with as much power or force, as Portman does. It's another point to Garden State here.

Score:
Amélie [2]
Garden State [2]

Now it's onto the juicy stuff. The stuff that you can sink your teeth into. The stuff that they want you to focus on in school these days - the technical aspects of the films. And, to be honest, there are few better examples of technical superiority or experimental successes in movies these days (nor for the past ten years I'd venture a guess at) than Amélie or Garden State. But what makes them so good? Well, I've devised four topics to cover all of the aspects, each worth one point, that really are standouts in both of these films: camera work, 'colour' and 'the rest'. I've omitted directorship, editing, production and special effects because most of the story is convey through either a) the characters; b) the acting or; c) the technical aspects that the two share. Let us examine the first of these categories: camera work.

I'm a big fan of how the camera is used in films. Sometimes it ads that extra punch, sometimes it leads to the detriment of a film. But, most of all, I can recognise and appreciate new and experimental ways that the camera can and is used. Of course, in saying that, I readily acknowledge that probably everything has been tried once before, and thus nothing is 'new'. But there are less-common uses of the camera, and that is what I deem the 'new'. Amélie has these new techniques, one could say, down pat; almost as if they had been used regularly. But what are they?

Let's start with the how the camera is used in Amélie. It's plays three roles - the first: it's the normal camera which tracks and documents our characters. That's no surprise. The second: every now and then the camera acts as a confessional for the characters. Amélie breaks down the fourth wall between film and audience (@00:11:16) when she tells us that she enjoys looking back in movie theatres, then a few seconds later, what she dislikes about films, and once again after playing her first 'game' with Nino (@01:13:57), then, in the closing stages of the film (@01:52:23). There are powerful implications for a film when it breaks down that wall - most importantly, the characters acknowledge that they are only movie characters, and that they really don't exist. Pending the film of course.

The third is in conjunction with the narrator, where it acts as an 'investigator' which seeks to show to us what information we need to know in order to become familiar with the characters and the story. From the start of the film to 00:09:12, we have a summary of Amélie's childhood, and sets the character up brilliantly to where we first meet her as an adult. Then, finally, the film's plot gets underway at 00:13:35. Up unto then, we are familiarised with the characters that are going to play a part. But not in the traditional sense of viewing them in a certain context. Rather, we are presented with them, and the camera is there to give us the information that is important for future events. The narrator's role is exceedingly important, though warrants a discussion on its own. But these tidbits of information don't just serve plot purpose - they give depth and a realisation for the audience of these secondary characters. Now the camera follows the journey through childhood, then weaves its way through each of the characters, stopping, in both parts, on the important players and with enough time so that we obtain a sense of who we are dealing with. We get a feel for each of the supporting cast - from Georgette, the hypochondriac, using some form of inhaler, who is presented alone to us in a mid-shot, up against a backing of the studiously organised and defined cigarettes behind her, thus defining neat and high-strung manner; to Joseph, looking away from the camera at all times with a scowl, a tight, close-shot, without changing emotion, when we are told he enjoys only one thing: popping bubble wrap.

The technical use of the camera in Amélie is fantastic as well. The camera, I have noticed, is usually moving - either following characters or zooming. This, for me, is an obvious symbol for the notion that the movie is concerned with change for the characters - a movement from the old to the new - and the moving camera is representative of this journey. The camera is moving because the characters are moving - physically, emotionally, psychologically. If the camera does come to a stop, most of the time it's a close-up on one of the characters. I would say that every close-up has a purpose in this film, and I'm not about to detail the hundreds of them. Generally though, they are to do with emotional states or in relation to their position in the journey - whether it's a character going through change, coming to a realisation or being introduced, as we see with the main and secondary characters.

There are a few high and low angle shots that are worthy of note as well. Amélie, after letting another chance of 'meeting' Nino, is put into her metaphorical context: the camera high above her, standing alone, made to look small and insignificant. She's realised that she is alone, really alone, and, with the events leading up to that point as a reference, because of her own actions. And, of course, the high to far camera movement of this shot is symbolic of the isolation and distance that Amélie has established herself in. It starts with a high shot over a canal, arcs down over Amélie, further down but still distant, then ends up (physically and metaphorically) a stone's throw away from her. The camera doesn't get close to her, and that's what it's like for the people around Amélie.

Generally, though, the camera work in Amélie excels because of the variety of ways we see Amélie through the camera. Perspective is of the utmost importance in this film. In many films, there's no importance between how we see the characters and what they are feeling (I find there is a reliance on the mid-shot in this case). I previously spoke about how the camera is distanced from Amélie regularly, and gave you an example. Many times the same example pops up time and time and time again, each with their own meaning, though all along the lines of the distance between Amélie and other characters.

Funnily enough, in situations where Amélie is in control, and should have the camera looking up at her, we find that she is put, again, further away, I believe this is symbolic of Amélie, again, still being distanced, while having control. But strangely, it's portraying her as having less power. While she is in control of the first 'game' that she plays with Nino, the view that Nino has of her when it is revealed (to him) he is being played by Amélie, this view, is deceptive. And the same happens when she is the store Nino works at. In fact, I don't think I've seen a steeper shot of a character in some time. She looks so small and insignificant, though she has all the control of the situation - she has the photo album. And here, in this shot, Raymond Dufayel, by the end of the film, holds more sway over Amélie than anyone would think (the painting I will discuss later), and while the argument could be made that it's only an establishing shot, Raymond is never given the positioning to discredit this. It's this playing around with the camera that makes Amélie so great in terms of the filming side. There's a heap of questions that I still need answers to in this film, but I don't exactly want them all solved at once. I enjoy thinking about a film, and I'm still thinking about Amélie. My best example is this shot (anyone who has seen the film will know the shot)

Garden State, if it suffers from anything in the camera department, is that it's very still, when compared to Amélie. Where the camera is always moving in Amélie, in Garden State the camera's movement, or lack of, is minimal. But it is important that it is this way. Where Amélie is a journey movie that doesn't stop, Garden State has the special quality of being a slow movie that can afford to stop. It's not as fast paced, and thus, it can afford to come to a stand still, and the audience can take everything in. This use of the camera is also a double-edge feature here - remember that Andrew Largeman is drugged into an emotionally 'dead' state, and would feel like everything is moving slow. Thus, the camera is inadvertently letting us into the mind of Andrew, who is experiencing the journey, rather than, as we see in Amélie, setting us on a journey of our own with the character's occurring at the same time and parallel to ours. For the best example of that, watch the opening minute-45 seconds - it's in slow motion, Andrew is the only person who isn't emotional on a crashing plane, and we are given a point-of-view shot to show that the camera is a perspective into Andrew.

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The camera also sets up the important settings of Andrew. While the settings are important in Amélie, it's importance resides in the colours being used, which I will talk about later. For Garden State the settings, and thus 'feel' of the film, are set up through the way the camera is wielded. There isn't so much of a reliance on the close-up, as with Amélie, more it's an emphasis of putting things in perspective. The way that the wide-shot is used in Garden State is noticeably different to Amélie in that not only does it distance Andrew from everyone, but it also puts things into context - Andrew feels alone and disconnected (though hasn't gone there by choice, as Amélie has), and the way he is established in shots shows this. We have, again, high and distant shots of Andrew. As an example, when we first see Andrew after the dream sequence, we start with a view from the corner of the room furthest away from Andrew, then come to a shot right above, where, in cut stages, we get closer.

This shot gives me a nice segway into what the environment says about our characters. If you look at Andrew's bedroom, it's missing, well, everything. There's a phone and perhaps an electric shaver, besides the bed, and everything is white. It's a real sterile feel. The same can be said with the doctor's building that Andrew goes to, the waiting room (the colours of that room will become important later as well), and the airport bathroom. And ordered, where everything appears to be perfect, like Andrew's parent's bedroom, his medicine cabinet (and the secondary message behind that is pretty powerful as well), the L.A. freeway. Oh, and the airport, and another scene in the airport (when Andrew decides that he is returning home, and thus, returning back to where he began his journey) Colour just isn't present in any of these environments - well, the colour that we find in others and in Amélie. That is until we meet Sam, but that's for the next section.

For the technical side, the camera in Garden State is still and somewhat standard, though, as I explained before, it works to its advantage. When Andrew takes speed (I think it is) we get a nice little technique where Andrew is still lethargic and 'slow' but everyone else, rather than going at normal speed as they do when he is on his normal medication, they are all in fast-motion. The same effect occurs at the end of the film, when Andrew is on the plane and headed home, and it's a stark contrast to the slow-motion effect used on the plane in the opening scene. What this does is symbolises the change in perspective - Andrew hasn't changed, but the way he views the world has. He's stopped taking his ill-prescribed medication, and now he can see that the world is this fast-paced race, and, through all this, he's still the same person.

And perspective, well, the use of that in Garden State is really for totally different purposes than we see in Amélie. Garden State uses this to make everyone out to be smaller - not the centre of the world, but rather, a real human being on the world, with a real life. When Andrew has finally sorted out his problems (mostly), and the plot needs to tie them up neatly, and show the audience that they've all come to some sort of resolution that we want them to have arrived at, but additionally, that Andrew is in charge of his own future and self now. We get a scene that does all that: it starts with a mid-shot of the three characters, then zooms-out, and out, and out. And all this was preluded by a high shot of the three characters, symbolic that where once they were mastered by their situation, after that zoom-out shot, they are the masters of the situation

So what film can possibly win this point? Well, for the technical side, it is just so hard to split. Garden State is, for the most part, is an independent film - it's written, directed and staring Zach Braff. It's financed by Miramax, who aren't one of the two giants in Hollywood, so there's that freedom for the production team. But Amélie brings the foreign flavours of film to us. It takes ventures that you don't see in Hollywood that much anymore. That certainly helps it's grab at the point, but is dampened by the fact that Garden State can use the traditional camera works, that Amélie discards, and makes them seem unique and original. So, my decision, Amélie gets a point. But Garden State gets one and a half points for the fact that, yes, the film manages to make unique of what is standard. This is because they both deserve the credit of this category, but Garden State gets that little bit extra.

Score:
Amélie [3]
Garden State [3.5]

Where to now? Well, I've touched upon it before now - colours. Starting with Amélie, it's best done by just showing you one picture - this. It's the poster of the film. Look at the four base colours there - black, white, red and green. Those are what the film really comes down to. Red is the most popular colour in this film, quickly followed by the green. Red denotes passion, it denotes love and those emotions. And you find it all through the film. The reddest place in the film Amélie's room. Every wall is red, everything in the room is red, even Amélie is red. Red red red. What does this say? If Amélie has surrounded herself in red, even dresses in it, then she has the love she is searching for in her already. And, because she's not seeking it out in the form of people, she's surrounded herself in the environment. The green we see in Amélie is sometimes pretty dirty and grungy. Mr. Collignon, the mean and cruel grocer, his apartment is this grungy green, and really looks like it could do with a clean. Where he works, and how he makes his assistant dress (who he runs down all day) is green as well. And going back to that arcing shot of Amélie on the canal, skipping stones, there's only one non-green thing in the shot: Amélie.

Black and white is used in the traditional sense of shading - how can any film avoid shadows and light? But colours are pretty simple to understand in Amélie - and even simpler when you're using two. They are self-explanatory, and really create the warm or cold feel of the film. When emotion should be evoked within the audience, the red is flooding the screen, it's warmer and it's related to what's going on with the characters. The green that's used makes it cold, emotionally dead and gives an insight into the characters that are associated with green.

Garden State uses colour to contrast where we've been and where we can go. For Andrew, it's the opposite in terms of his journey. Where the audience sees no, or little colour, we are viewing where we first meet Andrew - in his dead, bland, drugged world. But when we meet Sam, and the doorway to a new place (both for Andrew's emotional state and for the destination for his journey) is opened. But before that, the film is cold - and it still has points where it is, after we've met Sam. I guess that this is because of the conflicting state of mind that Andrew is in. The two go from a warm shared scene in a bathtub (referenced next) to a scene where they appear to be leaving one another - and, of course, it's in a very hostile setting for emotions and colour.

Sam's entrance into the film brings with it colour and, ultimately, a change in emotions for Andrew. We first see Sam in the same waiting room that I've described as sterile and 'dead'. But she isn't dressed to look like a chair (serious, I think he is dressed to fit in - brown pants, the same shade of green shirt). She's different to what we've seen so far - 'dead' settings, ordered, organised and confined. Then we are taken to her house, which is just as colourful and just as 'random' (that picture gets random because you can see the year-old Christmas tree and the labyrinth of hamster tubing) as this strange girl we've just met - and strange in a good way. There's something strange about everyone in this film, but few are likable-strange (that picture is only explained by the film). In the end, we see that Sam is the catalyst for change for Andrew; she brings the spark, that his medication has put out, back into him, and this is all symbolic in the colours.

Two of the warmest scenes just happen to occur when Sam is with Andrew. When the two share a moment by the fireplace, after swimming in the pool, isn't only warm because of the fire, but because of the colours it throws out - the oranges and the yellows are quite inviting. The next is where Andrew finally opens up and lets all of his pent up emotions out, finally. He sits in a bathtub with Sam, and it has a similar colouring to the fireplace scene. When a scene in a bathroom, the characters wet from rain, could easily come off as cold and uninviting, the colouring manages to turn that right around.

But, between these two movies, Amélie comes out ahead. The vibrancy of the two colours, and only two, is just amazing. That's not to say everything else has been blacked out, but these two, and the way they are worked in and around every other colour is quite elegant. for all it's value, uses and suffers from normal Hollywood techniques, which is something that does surprise and hurts me. For all of the seperation between Garden State and Hollywood that exist, it falls short on this key element. And for Amélie, the colours are what do set this film above others, and really deserves the point. The colours, for both films, could do with an in-depth discussion in relation to each character, but this has already grown into a monster of a post, so I won't bore.

Score:
Amélie [4]
Garden State [3.5]

What is the rest? Well, it's the mixbag of what else make these films good. Overt subtlety is what I like to call some of the elements in Garden State and Amélie. They are overt in that they are readily available, but subtle because you have to know what they mean, and they might not be so obvious as you see them (or perhaps you have to wait until the end of the film). Either way, the two films are full of them. The image of Andrew in a mirror is a classic representation of a character of his type - split, undecided, lost. And contrast the life that's portrayed by these two scenes - driving down an L.A. freeway and driving down a New Jersey freeway. There's no hustle and bustle and stress and 'tightness'.

It's difficult to compare the 'way of life' that Amélie presents because it's an idealised, dream-like Paris that's being portrayed. So, instead, I'll turn to the pseudo special effects that come into play. There is a scene where we need to know that Amélie has obtained a copy of a key to Mr. Collignon's room key. The outline of it is highlighted in gold while it sits, hidden, in Amélie's pocket. A similar effect is used when she sees Nino for the second time and has realised that she does have feeling for him. Her heart, shown to us, beats at a rapid rate. This effect is used to give us critical information that, otherwise, the all-important narrator would have told us. So what the heck is this shot doing? I have my suspicions (and it relates to the obvious religious undertones), but I don't like to venture such far guesses concerning films. I like to deal with what I know.

The lighting in both films is somewhat important, less so in Garden State. It's possible to read too much into Amélie and its use of lighting, I believe. It is used to show Amélie making realisations about herself and those around her, such as when we, along with her, first view Raymond Dufayel from her window. The only light shining onto Amélie at this point is coming from Raymond's room. Answers, for Amélie's and our questions, lie within.

Garden State's use of lighting is merely for effect as I see it. The most interesting one is when we greet Andrew waking up from a party he attended through the night. Other than that, there isn't a whole lot to point out. But I'm not disappointed at that - there is a tendency these days to try and deliver too much information through lighting that it has become a cliche. Filmmakers should realise that the original Star Wars perfected the art of lighting and need to leave it there. Similarly they did it with costumes, but as there is nothing really of note in that department in either film (other than the red clothes that Amélie wears and the green clothes that Mr. Collignon wears, on par with the aforementioned colouring) I won't dwell on that point.

Returning to the overt subtle, I enjoyed a particular scene in Amélie that I brought up just a moment ago. Amélie looks out her window, down to Raymond painting. Note that Amélie is looking through a lens. The painting that Raymond is working on will become a metaphor for Amélie's life later on in the film where both characters talk about Amélie, though neither really knowing (or at least acknowledging) that they are talking about her. "The girl with the glass in the middle" is the character in the painting that they discuss, which, funnily enough, Amélie becomes in this shot later - in between the artist and the canvas. And, note, that she's holding a glass. Again, when the two discuss the painting/Amélie, she is holding a glass. Mulled wine I believe she drinks.

But, what I found interesting about what started me on that metaphor talk, was that Amélie was looking at herself, and through a lens. This works in two ways - one: she is looking at the world through a lens, not actually letting herself be part of what is out there. Two: she is already looking at her own person through a lens (as we are do note), just as the painting will become a lens into her own self.

Amélie has a few amusing moments, but they are in reference to characters, and generally important details to the plot in some strange way. Also, Amélie has many moments when you find yourself smiling at something or someone. But Garden State has actual comedy elements. There are some rather funny points in the film where it's in there purely for a laugh. And there is just the right amount so that it doesn't turn me (a person who doesn't have a pure comedy film in my Top 50 I expect - I disagree that they can be quality movies, but that's just my opinion) off it. For Garden State the comedy is subtle, but overt.

So who gets what, if any, points for this category? Garden State gets one for all the little things in it that make it good. But Amelie gets at least two (I was tempted to go so far as three) for including the painting and the metaphor. A student of English, I always loved a metaphor because not only did it take up so many lines to explain, but it was something that could be discussed and actually developed the film, as well as adding more depth and another layer to everything that was going on. I want to give Garden State more recognition that I have in this category, in fact, I think I'll give it half a point because of the details that it includes for the sake of the plot and the sake of creativity. But, ultimately, Amélie walks out on top with two points. Which brings us to the final score ...

Score:
Amélie [6]
Garden State [5]

So Amélie walks out on top, on what some may think is a closer margin that what others would get if comparing one of their all-time favourite films with their number eight favourite. Honestly, I'm not surprised. So fickle is my favouritism that my list changes order regularly. But the list of ten generally stays the same, and my top five haven't changed for some time as well. So to have only a point between them was, for me, predictable. And don't let this one point deride Garden State in any way what-so-ever. It is a terrific film about love, the emotional journey of one man who doesn't like where he is, nor does he even know, and the unique and colourful characters that surround him (and ultimately us). But Amélie manages to tell it's story with that little bit more ... something. It's that undefinable something in Amélie that will always separate it from other movies. Anyone who has seen it knows what I'm talking about. It's a beautiful film, so simple, but, as we've seen (or I've told you) it's somewhat complex when you take it apart. I encourage everyone to try and see both of these films and try and compare them to this level in less than 8774 words.

I hope that the wait didn't put anyone off reading this. I can see why the length would have. Seriously, I applaud anyone who managed to go through it all. I would appreciate any sort of feedback on this - even a contrast in opinions on either/both films. If this type of post proves to be successful, I'll go and do the next one I had planned. I've always wanted a theme to my blog; perhaps movies is that elusive theme. If the recommendation comes in that people want similar, but shorter, posts to this then I totally understand and would, in all reality, prefer to write shorter ones. But, as I hope you've seen, these two films are standout, classics (in my mind, where they are also filed under under-appreciated) and worthy of the in-depth analysis I've given it (though, admittedly, I've only scratched the surface on some of the elements). Thanks.

Thomas.