Run Lola Run Presentation Critique- Writing

My group--Jen Lewis, Edgar Tejeda, and myself-- discussed Run Lola Run's writing. My slides analyze the characters' speech and motifs, symbols, and metaphors; they are the second through fifth slides.

My first slide explains the use of dialogue in the film. It's used sparingly, and as such that which is present is informative and easy to understand--for example, the homeless man's first words are, "The bag!" Other problems are revealed through actions and cinematography; Manni's reaction to realizing that he has left the bag on the train, and the cutting between this and the bag show his new problem. These in conjunction contribute to the realism of the film, in that they reflect daily life more than, say, a lengthy internal monologue would.

My final three slides each depict a motif, symbol, or metaphor that I observed. The first was the 100,000 marks, which symbolized Lola and Manni's problem and solution--their problem is recovering 100,000 marks in order to save Manni's life, while the solution is to do just that. The metaphor I identified was the soccer game. It is a metaphor for the entire movie in that none of the three scenarios are the "true" one--they are all theory. This, by extension, also foreshadows the multiple endings as each is entirely theoretical. Lastly, I stated that spirals are a prominent visual motif throughout Run Lola Run. Unlike circles, which return to the exact same point endlessly, spirals are unwound, meaning that they return to similar points until they end. This is akin to the characters' actions throughout the three scenarios in that they each act similarly, but not exactly the same, until each scenario ends. The spiral in other ways than literally: the roulette ball spinning around the wheel until it comes to rest in a slot, or in the cinematography as the camera panning around the telephone booth until stopping in front of Manni and the blind woman.

"The Package" Treatment

There is a lone traveler, a teenage boy, trotting down the empty road. Carrying nothing but a package, he is calm but wary. He is already behind schedule--he should have reached the checkpoint an hour ago. The man was going to have his head for this.

The traveler stops dead in his tracks. He does a slow, deliberate check of his surroundings. The eyes--he feels them. He knows they are there, but he doesn't know where "there" is. He clutches the small box in his hand, standing still as stone. His eyes dart back and forth, waiting.

A nearby bush rattles ever-so-slightly, and not by force of the wind. He sees it.

The boy, without a moment's hesitation, darts down the road. Looking back, he counts two of them. He lowers his head and ventures on.

Suddenly, in the distance a great mass looms. Another squad of the enemy. The boy veers off course into an abandoned building. He takes refuge behind a rusty machine.

The boy checks the time--the contents of the package would expire in just five minutes. He needs to get out; exiting the locker, he leaves through the back door and meets a godsend--an elevator. He gets in and pushes the only button. Emerging from his musty confines, he cannot resist a cough. The enemies hear him; he runs.

The checkpoint is in sight! He is going to do it--he will succeed!

The shouts of his pursuers do not fade; they get louder. Maybe he isn't going to succeed. The boy feels a sharp pain in his ribs, followed by the feeling of weightlessness one gets from being airborne. The enemy is tackling him. He passes out.

The boy wakes up to the smirking faces of his best friends. They taunt him on his loss. He hands over the ball they pretend is a package, and in return they pick him up from the floor and dust him off. Laughing, the boys walk off into the distance.

Character in Time: The Shark Kid

The boy, clad in naught but his underwear, feels the frigid morning breeze on every inch of bare skin. He waits at the edge of the deck in eager anticipation. When he senses the subtle stirs of the shark six feet under, he dives in.

As the shark flails around impatiently near the bottom, the boy awaits his chance. Slowly but surely, it approaches. The boy swiftly grasps its tail; it does not resist. It knows the boy.

Although the two are nearly the same size, the shark has no difficulty zooming through the clear ocean. Its stamina seems infinite.

The same rush that the boy feels every morning arrives--the pure bliss that accompanies your one true passion. This is what he was born to do. This is what he would die doing.

Suddenly, he is assaulted by a flurry of memories. His first meeting with the shark years ago, his first ride with the shark, the first time he nearly drowned. Thoughts flow through his mind like the two in the water.

The boy awakens abruptly, the hours in the dream taking place in just a few real-life minutes. He begins to sob. Why must his imagination tease him so? Why did he have such marvelous, phantasmagorical dreams while he lived such a boring life? The boy weeps openly; his parents in the next room simply ignore him. They are used to this.

"Who's Gonna Save My Soul?"

The short film I'm analyzing is "Who's Gonna Save My Soul?" directed by Chris Milk. While the film takes its name from a Gnarls Barkley song and exists mainly to promote said song, it is not necessarily a music video; however, the song can be heard prominently throughout. It depicts a break-up that is difficult for one party but not the other.

That is indeed his heart on the plate.

The entirety of this film takes place inside of a diner, and nearly every single shot is of either the protagonist, his girlfriend, or his (literal and metaphorical) heart. Thus, the viewer's focus goes directly to and lies entirely on the these three characters and their plight. The lack of any setting aside from the diner ensures that the plot is of the utmost importance. Additionally, even after the protagonist cuts his heart out, the viewer's focus continues to lie on the two speaking characters, as per the rule of thirds. Their faces lie on two of the intersections (key areas of interest).

For the most part, the camera sits just a short distance from the subjects and never goes further. However, at times, the subject is much closer (i.e. over-the-shoulder shots). The angle, similarly, is constant throughout- neutral, and either from the side or front of the subject. One unique shot, however, is the opening point-of-view. Whereas these usually portray the emotion of other characters, this POV shows our protagonist's emotion as his hands block the two from eye contact.

The third and fourth people to appear are the waitress
and the patron at the counter, respectively.

Again, there is little to no notable detail aside from the characters. The cinematographer's clear intention was for the focus to remain on the subjects and plot more than anything else. Until the heart becomes sentient, the presence of other people is rarely even acknowledged--a grand total of three humans appear before that shot.

Lastly, the lighting and color. The film uses a "mid-key" lighting scheme. While there are shadows that indicate a more somber tone, sunlight contrasts this in order to lighten the mood. There is a color scheme that may or may not be intentional: the Caucasian man, wearing a light yellow dress shirt, versus the African-American woman, dressed in a gray shirt.