FLCL and Two Types of Suspense (alternative title: How to Build your Patience for Cinematic Storytelling)

It took me awhile to finally get into FLCL, and only recently have I finished the acclaimed six part anime OVA that inspired the creators of the series Avatar: The Last Airbender. The first few viewing tries were unsuccessful, mostly because I couldn’t get past the ten minute mark without growing impatient or irritated. For some reason, whatever made the series so appealing to so many people I know was making me feel like I was developing a hernia in my brain. 

Then one day, as if the hernia had decided to develop somewhere else besides my brain, I realized what made FLCL work: it’s a modern take on gnostic suspense, where narrative logic and consistency is suspended and imagery and aesthetics take a front row. This runs contrary to circumstantial suspense, where regardless of what is not happening at a given moment of time, you are confident something will happen soon after. 

Take Alfred Hitchcock, the master of classic circumstantial suspense. Known for his mastery of the genre film, Hitchcock knew exactly what and how to keep his audience in a continuum of suspense, where at any given moment sequences of silence, calm or non-violence would be interrupted with something jarring. A perfect example would be the shower stabbing scene from Psycho: 

For a quick scene dissection to further demonstrate how Hitchcock creates a (relatively short) circumstantial suspense in this scene, here are a few screenshots to tip us off: 

As Marion enjoys her shower, Hitchcock positions her on the (lower) left of the screen…

Then slowly zooms in as it becomes apparent that someone has entered the bathroom without her knowledge (we know she’s oblivious because she doesn’t turn around when Mr. Bates casually sashays in)

The camera has zoomed in even more, and now Mr. Bates shadow against the curtain is even more evident. For the virgin viewers, we’re not sure what exactly he’s going to do (Hitchcock has been mindful to highly eroticize Marion’s shower scene to perhaps suggest Mr. Bates is interested in her sexually…)

… and then we have the famous curtain-drawing plus dagger holding silhouette, thus dispelling the possibility of sexy time and letting us viewers watch a full on murder assault, with the famous music to accompany it as well!

Another masterful example would be the introduction to Fritz Lang’s M, where we are introduced to the murder of a young girl with Lang’s ingenious use of diegetic sound, light/shadow, and mis-en-scene/props: 

A classic monster example of circumstantial suspense is the all-knowing Jaws, where little miss skinny dipping gives us a preview of mister fishy-fish as she gets dragged to and fro: 

For a example involving prehistoric reptiles (?) with fangs and claws, we have the rather remarkable scene in Jurassic Park where Tim and Lex do their best to elude the velociraptors:

So basically, circumstantial suspense is a classic component of the traditional narrative, where the audience’s expectations are suspended just enough to keep us on edge, either in fear, anxiety, or excitement. 

On the other spectrum, gnostic suspense is a auteur’s and surrealist’s wet dream, and is a fantastic way to test your patience with cinema. A master of gnostic suspense is Jan Švankmajer, the Czech filmmaker who made the famous short film Jabberwocky in 1971 and (the insanely grating) Alice in 1988 (arguably, he’s influenced modern filmmakers like Tim Burton and Henry Selick, and maybe even Wes Anderson to an extent). For a taste of what I mean when I say “a fantastic way to test your patience with cinema,” try and get through these six minutes of Alice without wanting to shove a chair in your eye: 

A less testing but equally surreal clip comes from Jabberwocky down below: 

Here’s the experimental short film Photographs by the talented Krishna Shenoi, brought to my attention courtesy of Mr. Roger Ebert (and I dare to say we may be seeing more of him in the future of filmmaking) 

Now if you’ve been brave and watched the above clips, you’re probably asking yourself why anyone would sit through more than a minute of a film like Alice or Jabberwocky. That’s where the magic of gnostic suspense comes in: unlike circumstantial suspense where you know something must happen at a given point in time, with gnostic suspense you’re left hanging, and the only thing keeping your attention is that small, minute hope that after all of the inanity, all of the surrealism there will be something, anything to clear up what is otherwise a clusterf**k that’s messing with your sense of (and grasp on) reality. The deux ex machina-like hope is really what makes gnostic suspense appealing and infuriating at the same time.

So when it comes to FLCL, a anime that goes out of bounds in self-reflexivity, pop cultural reference and mishmashing animation styles into a greater hodgepodge, you might see why I consider it a more modern employment of gnostic suspense, though to some meager sense there is a logical (???) narrative connecting each episode into an overall story (whether you call it logical narrative really depends on if you’re familiar with how over the top some anime can go, which I won’t even divulge into here). FLCL is really an artist’s and musician’s anime, a series that throws reasoning to the wind and asks us to simply enjoy every anime cliche amplified and caricatured tenfold with non-diegetic rock music blasting in the background, reminding us that hey – it’s just a cartoon. I recommend this short series for any animator stuck in a rut, or really for anyone who likes driving vespas with a bass strapped to their back. It’ll take some patience, but if you could sit through six minutes of Alice I guarantee you can sit through this entire series – and enjoyably so (though I can’t guarantee the same for Transformers 2, Skyline, or Fantastic Four 2). 

Some clips from FLCL if you’re curious for a taste of what the mini-series has to offer: 

If you’re interested in watching FLCL for free, visit the Funimation youtube page here. 

The Playful and Ephemeral Opening of "Paprika"

I rewatched Paprika not too long ago (within a week’s time period, I believe) and couldn’t get over how visually astounding and beautifully done the opening sequence was animated. It establishes the feel and aesthetic of the film in a mere two minutes, introducing us to the lovely and bubbly Paprika and her physical (?) counterpart Atsuko without saying anything. There’s a playfulness to it all, a characteristic all too appropriate to Paprika’s upbeat nature. There’s also a rather surreal element to it, where Paprika goes in and out of, well, anything: her ephemeral presence is both light and warm, unrestrained by the physics of reality and free to bound from place to place, sky to sky, street to street, and person to person – and all just as seamlessly like a dream. Here’s a video link to the opening scene and some following screenshots to help me describe what director Satoshi Kon does so exceedingly well – which, if anything, is an excellent example of dynamic and creative transitions: 

In this cut with Detective Konakawa flipping over Paprika’s business card, there is a warm orange hue that really begins the introduction to Paprika’s character – unique and outgoing, and warm too. 

This next cut is a nice transition from the business card to the highway street, where Paprika drives on by on her scooter. Though she is center there is a lot of movement going on here so the framing doesn’t seem stagnant. 

This first fluid transition (where Paprika goes from one place/medium/whatever to another) is probably the most unexpected one, since at this point most first time viewers aren’t aware of Paprika’s dream nature. Again there is a prevalent orange color with the rocket ship, as well as a playful wink at hyper-cartooned anime aesthetics. 

Here’s a nice little fluid transition of Paprika (literally) blasting off into the night sky…

… and as she flies through the night sky she fluidly transitions again, this time into two advertising billboards (I’m not sure if this is product placement on Kon’s part, as I’m not entirely familiar with Japanese products/beer…)

This is really the first rough-cut transition, where we’re not quite sure how Paprika ends up in the monitor of this (exhausted) employee. 

(Notice, too, how Paprika is wearing a white dress quite similar to that of the woman’s attire in the sleeping employees photo, just left of the monitor. A nice little detail I only caught while taking screenshots of the opening sequence!)

As she begins tiptoeing away, Paprika begins to bounce into bigger and bigger strides, leading to this fluid transition below…

I love how Kon depicts Paprika as a bouncing entity, a characteristic that not only emphasizes her playfulness but more importantly the dream nature of her existence, one that so cheerfully bounces around within the colder barriers of reality. Notice, too, how her red-orange shirt contrasts with her blue surroundings, again emphasizing the warmth of her presence. 

This is sort of a fluid transition from the office building, where prior to seeing her bounce on the street we saw her bounce her way through the hallways. This is another playful and humorous moment in the opening scene, where in her frustration she simply lifts up her hand..

…snaps her fingers…

… and stops traffic like that!

The effect here, of course, is one of really establishing a sort of surrealism regarding Paprika’s presence in the real world, a presence that is almost God-like in some respects. She simply bounces around carelessly, free of worry or fear of breaking physical or anything that otherwise bars everyone else chained to the physical world. The aesthetic effect is also creative, echoing back to the days of pausing video cassettes (DVD kids be damned!)

Here is the second rough-cut transition in the opening sequence, where we suddenly see Paprika biting into a hamburger. We also see her reflection in the background mirrors, which are a rather important part of this brief (and comedic) scene: 

As the two guys hit on her, we see Paprika’s mirror reflections express disgust in different ways to a comedic effect (a cascade of rejections, I must say!) The interesting part is that like the sleeping employee prior, Paprika is interacting with people in the real world; however, the difference here is that two guys are also interacting with her as well, just like a real-life conversation. The multiple mirror reflections reveal multiple dimensions of Paprika, dimensions that otherwise don’t reveal themselves in the real world – a theme that is prevalent throughout the entire film. 

This fluid transition here is probably one of the most creative I’ve seen in the entire movie. As Paprika runs out of the eatery to get away from two suitors, she manages to disappear by jumping into a man’s shirt and then jumps out back onto the screen, looking straight at us the viewer. This jumping in and out of frame recurs constantly throughout the rest of the film, too, where in your dream state you can really do anything you want, just like a God – the only limit is the span of your imagination. 

(The transition is inventively reminiscent of Cinderella, Paprika style)

This is only shot that doesn’t involve Paprika, establishing the real world at hand and the sunrise encroaching. It leads to the third and last rough-cut transition below…

…where we see Paprika again riding on her scooter on the high way. 

We see Paprika get behind a car, and as a car passes by the camera we see that she is now driving the car. 

Another car passes by the camera and we see that is now another woman driving. Her hair down and flowing in the air, another car passes by the camera for the final fluid transition…

… and introduces us to Atsuko, her hair now tied up and no longer flowing in the air. 

One of the nicest things about this opening sequence is that besides being astoundingly creative, it really utilizes the stretches the potential of animation to its limit: Paprika is a dream avatar, and by such she can really do anything we otherwise wouldn’t even think of in the real world. It also gives us a nice transitional introduction to Atsuko, Paprika’s physical counterpart, and gives us a lot of hints regarding how both characters are similar and drastically different one another. 

Paprika is truly one of the most visually astounding films to date, and probably one of the best films regarding dreams as well. It definitely isn’t one of the more accessible films; in fact, I think it’s even more complex than the linearly drive narrative of Inception (if you’re one of the people who said “holy mind f**k” at the end of Nolan’s film, you’ll probably find Paprika absolutely incomprehensible). Regardless, I couldn’t recommend this film enough for anyone, especially for animation enthusiasts and fans of psychological/dream-themed films – and I do hope this opening scene will bump hesitant film fans to take a leap of faith into the magnificent mind of Satoshi Kon. 

Scene Dissection - Haru Introduction from "The Cat Returns"

There’s a common conception that anime productions tend to take short cuts in order to reach deadlines and keep costs to a minimum, thus resulting in rather minimal facial and body expressions as well as jumpy animation as a whole. This isn’t entirely unfounded – I’m sure many of you have had your share of anime where the production team very obviously ran out of money – and oftentimes, it’s best for artists and animation students to first learn the basics of depicting human emotions before simplifying their style into anime-influenced minimalism (back in my high school days, my art teacher commented that many portfolio graders of AP Practice of Art students’ work rarely gave out high scores for anime artists). 

Like all things, however, there’s always something that defies conception. In this case, the introduction of Haru in The Cat Returns is one of the best character animations I’ve seen in awhile. Without saying anything, all of her movements convey the sort of insecure high school girl not uncommon during adolescence, and even implies her relationship with her mother, who her friend is, and whom she quite fancies. Director Hiroyuki Morita clearly spent a lot of time defining and fleshing out Haru’s character to the extent that without saying anything, we know instantly what kind of person she is from the get go – uncertain, insecure, daydreamy, perhaps a bit passive and clumsy, and undoubtably a perpetual tardy. Here’s a video link for the scene and some following screenshots to illustrate this fantastic demonstration of excellent anime/animation: 

After seeing a hand go thump on the cow alarm clock, we see Haru still in bed and rolling over; however, she soon realizes she’s late and jumps out of bed. 

As she quickly (and messily) makes her room, we get a sense of what her room is like and just how rushed she really is (it might also be a hint how only a few seconds ago we saw her in pajamas, again emphasizing how pressed she is to get to school). 

Haru’s double take with the mirror is a notable directing choice: in the first screenshot we see her getting ready vigorously and run out of frame; in the second screenshot she’s run back to the mirror to double-check herself, making sure that, while still hasty, she still looks decent enough. It’s the double-check, second-guessing quirk of these two screenshots which is more or less prevalent throughout this entire introduction of Haru. 

We see Haru running around looking for her bento lunch box, and when she does she quickly puts it into her schoolbag standing up rather than bending over – all in an effort to make up for lost time getting to school. 

These screenshots are fantastic for a few reasons: foremost, it again reinforces Haru’s indecisiveness, and second because it establishes the sort of teasing relationship she has with her mother. There’s a moment where we can see Haru really wants to sit down have a bite but is conflicted about being tardy; she first looks intrigued, then sort of painfully conflicted before grimacing and running out, and finally exclaiming at her mum for not being unfair in the sort of “too bad you can’t have some of this delicious breakfast like I can hee” teasing. 

This is a nice establishment shot of Haru running down the street, and sort of the span and distance from her house to school (it’s also a subtle implication of why she panicked upon realizing the time – it’s a pain to be in a rush, nonetheless a long distance to where you need to get to). 

These two screenshots are a nice detail about how rushed Haru is. In the first picture, we see that she’s looking forward; in the second, we see that she abruptly turns to cut through the bushes, undeniably trying to minimize the time it takes to get to school. 

Of course, with any “unpaved” short cut, getting caught in a branch is possible as seen with the above screenshots. We see Haru quickly swiping away the branch, probably not thinking about a possible rip that could happen if she wasn’t careful or just unlucky. 

We see Haru running at full speed, and again finds herself in mishap when her rushing and inattentiveness to certain aspects of the environment causes her shoe to get caught on the sidewalk and removed. The last two screenshots are a nice illustration of Haru’s speed/running, as she has trouble stopping herself due to momentum. 

In her panic, she tries to maintain some dignity by skipping towards her shoe (possibly, she may trying to not get her sock dirty). 

As luck as it, a baseball team is taking a jog and blocks her path. We see her meekly trying to get through, but it’s obvious that the team is oblivious to her pardons (they probably can’t hear her either), and she soon gives up trying to get their attention in exclaiming “oh no!" 

Now at her classroom, we see Haru trying to sneak in inconspicuously…

…but again to her luck, she’s caught by the teacher and immediately stands up obediently. There’s not an ounce of relaxation, and there’s a great deal of nervousness conveyed by how stiff her shoulders are and how straight (and quickly) she stands up. 

These two screenshots illustrate immediately who is Haru’s friend in the class, who merely comments "caught again” and does not laugh at Haru, merely smiling in the sort of exasperated manner one does when both pitying and chuckling at a good friend’s mild misfortune. Also, without seeing Haru’s face, we can infer her embarrassment by how stiffly she stands in the first picture, and how hunches and hangs her in a subservient-like manner int he second. 

In these five screenshots, we see Haru looking up shyly, and for a moment the camera switches to her POV and reveals that she’s focusing on a boy (who also happens to be laughing in good spirits). Clearly, his laughter bothers her particularly, and she hangs her head down even more in an attempt to curtail the embarrassment of having everyone focus on her and laugh about her tardy mishap. More importantly, it’s implied that she has a crush on the boy of interest, and his participation in the classroom laughter only reinforces her own insecurity. 

These last two screenshots demonstrate another aspect of Haru, which is perhaps one of a daydreamer as she stares out at the blue sky. Her friend, Hiromi, stands watching others play on the rooftop; and in yet another unfortunate chance, Haru gets smacked in the head with a ball, snapping her back into reality (Hiromi gets a good chuckle at the accident, of course – really who wouldn’t?)

As you can see (and probably even better from the video), the opening sequence and introduction of Haru reveals quite a bit of her character without explicitly saying so. It works well because of her body movement, and the sort of double-takes, hand swiping and head hanging she acts out – the sort of task the best animators can do without so much a blink of an eye. 

A similar (if not even better demonstration) of superb animation bringing a distinct character of life can be seen in this blog article about a pencil test by Milt Kahl and Ollie Johnston on the Disney film The Rescuers. The blog author, Jamaal Bradley, comments on the film: 

This clip is one of the reasons why I love animation. The ability to make a character come to life combined with technically achieving line control is amazing. Milt’s animation on Medusa is broad but not overwhelmed with obscure posing and he applies it twice by animating her reflection. Ollie just captures the subtle but unsure movements of a young person. Both characters are completely believable. This is animation at its best….at its best!

The clip can be found here, and I highly recommend anyone to take a look at it! 

"The Incredibles" Scene Dissection - Dash on Water

The Incredibles is one of those movies that’s always playing on ABC family, and for good reason too: it’s a damn good movie. 

Story-wise, it’s a darker brand in the Pixar filmography, penned by none other than Brad Bird (The Iron Giant, Ratatouille); technical-wise, the film couldn’t be a better demonstration of framing and directing action sequences. Bird not only utilizes animation’s capacity to rise above physical limits of live-action films, but also creates dynamic sequences by switching up angles and points of focus. One of my favorite scenes in The Incredibles demonstrates all of these characteristics plus a little extra – an excellent use of the natural environment. 

It happens that Dash and his sister Violet have been spotted by soldiers on a private island, and both split up they are pursued by said soldiers who are ordered to either take them in alive or dead. As his name implies, Dash can run at superspeed, which lends him an extra boost when he finds himself confronted with a body of water and rock formations. 

For numerous reasons I’ll explain below, this scene (click here for the video link) nicely executes aspects of action optimal for a animation and a natural environment: 

We start off with a reaction shot of Dash…

…and a quick camera cut reveals that there’s a body of water approaching…

He braces himself …

…still bracing himself…

…until it’s revealed that hey – apparently having superspeed enables you to run on water. 

Physics aside, this newfound discovery for Dash has comedic timing that sets off the chase scene upon the body of water. We know now his basic running abilities on water: now it’s time to see how he can really use the environment to its full potential…

(frankly, I’d be pretty stoked too if I found myself capable of running on water)

Here we begin with a aerial shot of Dash, which puts his position (as well as his pursuers) in context with the natural environment. It’s a perfect establishment shot, followed shortly by a tracking shot that zooms up towards the characters…

… to include the pursuers, as well as give the viewer another establishing shot of the natural environment from a different angle (a semi-horizontal position with a semi-dutch angle, in this case)

For a split moment, we get a close up of the pursuers tracking Dash (almost analogously to how the camera tracks Dash and the pursuers from an aerial shot only a few seconds earlier)

Here, the camera really establishes where Dash and his pursuers are in relation to one another: 

Dash in the front…

… and the pursuers in the back. We see here the pursuers opening fire (presumably after they’ve “locked” his position with their tracker): 

The camera changes angles from a front/back POV to a quarter/semi-profile view of Dash and his pursuers. It’s a excellent choice because again, it puts Dash and the soldiers in relationship to their environment and its elements. We see clearly the trail of water behind Dash as he runs full speed…

… and additionally how the soldiers/plane-thing explodes when they cannot avoid the magnificent, natural rock formations upon the water. This really establishes the elemental force of the environment’s characteristics, that it is not simply an area that action can take place: effectively, Dash and the soldiers are very actively interacting with the environment, as the trail of water and the impact upon the rock imply. 

The camera switches back to the front/back POV, and this time what’s emphasized is the bullets hitting the water as the squad fires upon Dash: 

These cuts and frames demonstrate a great use of the natural environment, again establishing that the characters on screen are very much apart of the environment they currently reside: bullets don’t simply go “puh puh puh puh!” and don’t leave a dent somewhere - they’re hitting the water, leaving a distinct trail of quick, vibrant splashes. Additionally, the quick cutting emphasizes how quickly everyone is maneuvering around the rocks: Dash sprints and uses the unique properties of water to propel himself and turn smoothly at sharp corners while the soldiers tilt their plane-things up and down, left and right (upside down?) so they don’t faceplant (explode) onto solidified sediment. 

Here, the camera becomes stationary and pans from the left to the right, again establishing Dash and the soldiers in relation to the rock-water environment, which is appropriate considering it leads up to the following: 

– the cave. For a moment here, we get a nice glimpse at what the soldier on screen (dubbed soldier A for the purposes of this scene dissection) is possibly contemplating as he hesitates to follow Dash immediately into the cave, as we’ll see why soon…

A nice cut to a front POV of Dash, highlighted by the light of the cave opening behind him as the soldier pursues him. And while the tunnel-like constrictions of the cave could possibly make the action less dynamic, Bird demonstrates again why characters interacting with their immediate environment can make anything that more interesting, and especially in an action sequence: 

We see here that Dash runs up the cave walls above his lone pursuer…

… and see this again up-the-wall run again from a different POV. While it might be hard to see solely off the screenshots, Bird actually makes a subtle directing choice by not cutting the action real-time – the up-the-wall runs overlap one another, and thus makes the sequence that more cohesive overall.  

We see how the water splashes in relation to Dash’s movements again, which is nice detail that again establishes the dynamic relationship between the cave/water environment and the characters. 

Here’s a reaction shot of Dash as he looks behind him, pleased to have gotten away from the pursuer (and indeed, quite proud of his improv)

We have a momentary FPS-like shot of the cave opening…

… we get a glimpse at Dash’s reaction (“yay!”) …

… and then we see where soldier A went to …

… and Dash realizes he may be trapped (“CRAP-!!!”)

The scene switches to another stationary camera that pans left to right, then left again as it tracks Dash’s movements between the two pursuing soldiers: 

In a split moment, when he think’s he’s trapped, Bird pulls one last trick in the water-rock action sequence: 

Since we’ve been so enthralled by Dash’s ability to run on water and interact so dynamically with the immediate natural environment, for a few seconds the basic rules and physics of his animation don’t occur to us until he stops running entirely – and then the moment of re-realization happens (“oh yeah he has to keep running in order to stay on top of water…!”)

To finish off the action sequence, we get a nice underwater shot of the explosion above us. While it’s still Dash-centric, it’s a nice visual to see balls of fire above when looking up from below a watery surface (additionally, this is a PG movie, which means no lingering moments on explosions and death are allowed in order to get this rating). 

Above all, this entire sequence shines because of one, key thing: character and environment interaction. 

It might sound obvious, but it’s rather easy to completely overlook unique characteristics of the immediate environment the characters occupy during an action sequence. In the above screenshots above, Bird takes small moments to focus on how the characters affect the environment and vice versa, even choreographing clever moments that appropriate the natural realm such as the rock formation impact, Dash running up the cave wall and then sinking below the water after a momentary pause. 

The small details are what matter since they make the action sequence that more plausible and substantial: for less skillful execution of action sequences (such as this so-bad-it’s-hilarious clip from Undeafeatable) the characters interact so minimally and so obviously with their environment that it’s mind-numbingly uncreative: 

A meat hook? Really? You’ve got an entire warehouse of boxes and equipment and - honestly, the only time a character interacts with the environment is when he gets hooked on a hook? 

In a slaughterhouse, a meat hook is much, much too obvious. Conversely, a master of environment interaction is none other than Jackie Chan himself, who famously uses everything from chairs to class, to even shirts and tables and chopsticks – anything near him that he can use to fight someone, he’ll grab it and exhaust it of its use in any action sequence. 

While I wouldn’t say this scene from The Incredibles is Chan status, it demonstrates some immaculate and skillful work under Bird’s directing hand by virtue of the dynamic character-environment interaction throughout. And by all means, it’s makes the scene that more exciting as well! 

Recommended Reading/Links

• Bond vs. Chan: Jackie shows how it’s done - David Bordwell

• Chrono Trigger and Action Movie Philosophy – Freddie Wong productions

The Metaphysics and Paradoxes of "Minority Report"

Concerning Possibility 1:

When I ask whether the human failure to predict the future is “epistemological,” I mean simply: does our failure to predict what is to come equate to a failure to know something that is in principle knowable? If this supposition is true, the future is actually a thing already laid out fully formed in some “fourth” dimension, or is at least something all of whose necessary conditions are already fully laid out, so we are merely playing out roles that are constantly bringing it into fruition. The issue in either case is that we humans just do not happen to know this future, because of our lamentable epistemic limitation or “finitude.” Beings who are not finite like us, however, like God, angels, or the pre-cogs in Minority Report, could conceivably have the epistemic equipment—or as Kant might say the “intellectual intuition"—to know it.

Concerning Possibility 2:

The second option raised is a more radical one. It is that our human failure to know the future is ontologically revealing. This failure is not something to be lamented, because it indicates something about the nature of the spatio-temporal universe. What it indicates, quite simply, is that the future is not the kind of thing any creature could ever know, and for the very best reason: namely, because it does not exist as a fully pre-formed set of actualities that could ever be known by anyone or anything.

- Matthew Sharpe, PhD in Is there a Minority Report? or what is Subjectivity?

Minority Report is one of my all-time favorite films for numerous reasons, one of them primarily making me rethink film as a narrative and artistic medium (as well as opening up my love for classic and modern film noir). The premise is this: in 2054 Washington D.C., murder has become a relic of the past thanks to the Precog program, a program which consists of three precogs – children with the ability to predict future murders, homicides and killings – that acts preemptively to prevent would-be killers from committing their crimes. John Anderton (played by Tom Cruise) is the head of the pre-crime unit, leading a routine life until one day, he is preemptively accused of killing a man he has never met. The movie takes off with John trying to prove his own innocence while diving into the truth about the Precog program and the nature of a minority report. 

Minority Report’s premise presents interesting ideas about the ontological paradoxes regarding future predictions – so much so that I felt compelled to write about one of the most fascinating scenes is at the very end (here’s the video link): 

John openly confronts Lamar (the Precog director) about the corruption behind the pre-crime program, bellowing out in rage and fury for everything that has cumulated up until now. The precogs, sensing Lamar’s murderous intent, begin narrating the future yet to unfold, and very closely so to when the actual events are occurring that at one point, John and a precog overlap in what they are saying. This presents some additional paradoxes about the nature of a precog for reasons I will attempt to illustrate here: 

This is a little schematic I drew up to demonstrate how closely the precog’s prediction is in conjunction to the actual event taking place:

• Events (i.e. dialogues) are denoted by letters A through E
• t = 0 is the event occurring during "real-time,” t = +1 is the event being predicted by the precogs, and t = –1 is the event told after fact (which does not apply here)
• ∆y is the time difference between what the precogs predict and when the prediction occurs
• The blue line designates on what time frame (i.e. future or real-time) the precogs narrate what eventually occurs real-time: therefore, the smaller ∆y becomes, the sooner the precog’s prediction comes true; additionally, if ∆y = 0, then the precogs are narrating the events in real-time as they occur (eg. event D)

To better illustrate what I’m trying to get at, here are the events (dialogues) and their corresponding screenshots, and for clarity’s sake overlapping dialogue will be bolded (note: it’s much easier to see what I’m talking about if you watch the video beforehand): 

…

Dialogue A: the precog’s prediction is preemptive before the actual event (Lamar’s and John’s dialogue), as inferred by how the dialogue of the precog and real-time subject (i.e. Agatha and Lamar) do not overlap. 

Precog 1 (Agatha): “Think about all the lives that little girl has saved" 

 

Lamar: ”Think about the lives that little girl saved. Think about all the lives she will save. Let her go. She could have saved Sean.“

John: "Don’t you EVER say his name!!!”

…

Dialogue B: Precog #2 takes over the narrative prediction, which is still preemptive relative to the real-time event (John yelling) taking place. 

Precog #2: “You used the memory of my dead son to set me up”

John: “You USED the memory of my dead son to set me up! That was the ONE thing you knew that would drive me to murder…”

…

Dialogue C: Precog #3 takes over the narrative prediction, which is still preemptive. Note however that ∆y (the time between the prediction and real-time) is shorter, i.e. the cut between the prediction (precog) and event (John). 

Precog #3: “What are you gonna do now, Lamar?”

John: “What are you gonna do now, Lamar?”

…

Dialogue D: This is the most interesting portion of the preemptive narration of the precogs. Here, the precog’s prediction overlaps with the real-time event – that is, both the precog and John say the same line at the same time. This is jarringly different than the nature of the precog’s presented beforehand, which has always been preemptive, and additionally presents another paradox regarding the precogs’ nature (which I will discuss shortly below). 

Precog #3: “How are you gonna – ”

John: “ – shut me up?!”

…

Dialogue E: the precogs revert back from real-time narration to their normal preemptive narration; notably, ∆y is larger than original (unfortunately this is not up to scale in my first schematic) because Lamar and John are not yet together on the patio/rooftop. 

Precog: “Forgive me, John." 

Lamar: "Forigve me, John.”

…

Some may argue that this extends to an argument of pre-destination versus freedom of will, and that our inability to predict the future is a necessary quality: all this and considering what’s presented in Minority Report, I’d say we have for ourselves an interesting case of where narration within the universe – as opposed to the traditional narrative speaking outside of the universe – functions as another unique paradox within the film’s universe; that is, the precogs are simultaneously narrating to us the viewer what is going on and to the people within precrime, and eventually at a small paradoxical point in time the precog is essentially rehearsing what is occurring real-time. Additionally, we can consider how this works from a metaphysics/modern physics POV, and what paradoxes (or impossibilities) arise as a result of the precogs preemptive narrative nature: 

Some notes about this schematic of the future and past light cones: 

• y-axis = time t from event A, x-axis = distance r from event A
• event A occurs at (0,0) 
• 1/c = the limit, derived from rise/run = ∆y/∆x = ∆t/∆r = 1/velocity = 1/speed of light (speed of light notated as c)
• Above x-axis = the future, below the x-axis = the past
• r distance is a function of t time, r(t)

Now, to illustrate what occurs before event A (past light cone) and after event A (future light cone): 

1. The shaded yellow area below the x-axis = all cumulative events leading up to the occurrence of event A
2. Event A occurs
3. At t₁, subject at rᵢ away from event A is affected (r₁ ≤ rᵢ)
4. The shaded dark green area above the x-axis = all events possibly affected by event A up until t₁
5. The light green area above the x-axis = all events possibly affected by event A past (and inclusive of events prior to) t₁
6. All of these events – past and future - demonstrate the core concept of causality: events prior to event A cumulate into the occurrence of event A, and the occurrence of event A affects all possible future events afterwards. 

Some important notes to consider regarding modern physics: 

• The information of event A travels at the speed of light along the limit 1/c
• Light always travels  forward, therefore the information of event A progresses forward as well (aka you cannot jump back to the past light cone once you have crossed the x-axis into the future light cone); by extension, information cannot be “time traveled” backwards
• EVERYTHING is dependent on event A
• EVERYTHING is in the same frame of reference (aka everything occurs during the same relative time)
• r is always less than or equal to rᵢ because nothing travels faster than the speed of light
• 1/c is on both sides of the y-axis because the information of event A travels in opposite and complementary directions (i.e. if I snap my fingers between you and I, the sound of the snap would travel towards me and towards you at the same time) - thus, the light cone shape results on a 2D scale
• The value of 1/c is VERY small, thus indicating that at a given, small interval of time, the information of effect A has traveled much farther with respect to r – that is, for a small about of t, you travel a large amount of r with respect to the limit 1/c that dictates how information of the event traverses forward in time. To scale, t is short and r is large
• Anything that occurs outside the shaded areas of yellow, dark or light green are caused by a different event other than event A

With all of this in mind, we can now see why the precogs, by default of their predicting nature, violate the principle of causality with their Mode of Operation (M.O.): 

1. Before the precogs are stimulated by a murderous vision (event A), they exist before event A takes places, and are as unaware of its possibility as anyone else (they exist below the x-axis at t = -1)
2. Once the precogs are stimulated by the murderous vision (event A), they essentially jump towards the future where event A has already occurred (they experience above the x-axis at t = +1) and learn of the information regarding event A
3. The precogs then jump back below the x-axis back to the past light cone from the future light cone to pre-event A, yet still remember the information they retained from post-event A and are now able to narrate the occurrence of event A
4. During the unique event D, the precog narrates what’s occurring real time (they are at t = 0), yet continue to violate causality since they are at a r distance away from event D, which occurs at t=0, r=0 - that is, how the precogs are perceiving the event is occurring faster than the speed of light c 

This presents a lot of paradoxes and problems within the realm of modern physics since accordingly, you cannot know of an event’s occurrence until after the event has occurred by virtue of light (and by extension information) progressing forward only: to predict the future is to essentially “time travel” from before to after and then back to before the event occurs and retain information, which would mean you made information “progress backwards” - which is impossible from what we currently understand with modern physics. 

The precogs essentially violate the nature of causality by their own preemptive nature, which adds another interesting question of whether or not they included themselves in the occurrence (or not) of event A: 

The acknowledgment of this evident paradox raises what is decisive in terms of our trying to decide the philosophical issue of freedom-necessity raised by the film, both within it and “for ourselves.” It shows that each of the pre-cogs’ predictions in Minority Report represents a phenomenon exactly akin to Bertrand Russell’s famousparadoxical list. As you may know, this is a list that aspires to list all the lists that have ever existed that did notinclude themselves in what they inventoried. As Russell reasoned, when we try to think about such a list, and specifically about whether it might ever be completable, we soon run into an aporia.

– Matthew Sharpe

Based on the metaphysical extrapolation of the precogs functions, they are essentially entities that are within and external to progression of time within the universe of Minority Report yet still adhere to the same frame of reference relative to the same universe: they can predict an accurate future without including themselves as a cumulative effect into whether or not effect A occurs, yet at the same time are very much embedded within the past light cone that filters into effect A even occurring all. By nature, they are the perfect paradox that breaks any “rule” or “limit” of modern (but not theoretical) physics: they’re both humans and Gods, effectively. 

The precogs really present a inherent paradox to the metaphysics of accurate prediction, and whether or not the ontological paradox really exists if the precogs do not factor themselves as entities also cumulating into the occurrence (or not) of any given event – all of which makes Minority Report a fascinating film to consider from a metaphysical, philosophical and narrative POV. 

*Note: I learned ALL of the (meta)physics after two hours of consulting from a nuclear engineer and previous knowledge. All qualms with my mistakes should be shot at me, slingshots and all. 

Two hours were spent on this whiteboard as I (re)learned aspects of light cones, special relativity, and the limits of light, time and information progression.