Does High Realism Equal Better Film?

There is a difference between stark realism and good storytelling. Cinema is open to different perceptions. We, as aware audiences, ought to give more importance to the integrity of presenting the story and not its factual correctness. Just like glossy cinematography doesn’t guarantee a smooth narrative, a ‘realistic’ film doesn’t automatically mean it is a superior effort of filmmaking. International film fests have sent hoards of film buffs rushing through the doors to experience the best of world cinema.

It is an admirable activity, with one negative repercussion. People who have blindly been fed on word of mouth of a film grounded in realism start to think that it is an authentic medium of cinema ‒ for to tell a story in its true form is one of cinema’s divine aims. I wonder: does abundant realism in a film necessarily classify it as a higher order of cinema? Or are fictional movies with strong interplay of acting, script, direction and music a better bet?

Realistic boredom v/s Fictional fun

I watched the universally acclaimed Welcome to The Dollhouse (1995) a few weeks ago. Firstly, the film did not strike me as the masterpiece it is said to be. It was blisteringly honest, yes, but to a fault. The film tries to showcase the realistic rigors of going through junior high with dangerous exaggeration and fails. As insightful as it is when it comes to the characters, its clunky demeanor and heavy-handed realism mar its ability to have a strong impact.

On the other end of this scale, the fantasy-comedy Stranger Than Fiction (2006) is light years away from realism, but has a good amount of tricks up its sleeve to show more about Will Ferrell‘s character. Though Harold Crick (the protagonist) doesn’t really say much, we clearly observe that all he needs is a way out of his monotonous life. An entertaining, clever narration of a heartfelt story is far more superior than a realistic film which shows the main characters eating and asks us to focus on their chewing patterns.

Which brings us to…

I have nothing against a naturalistic approach to telling a story. One of the best examples of a terrific, heartwarming low-budget indie is Ken Loach‘s The Angel’s Share (2012). Involving a whip-smart subplot about a whiskey auction, Paul Laverty‘s script blurs the line between subtle realism in the life of an Irish hooligan and fictional plot turns with remarkable ease. The end product is an amazingly observed, convincing portrait of broken lives that is also intelligent and daringly funny. Films have to resort to taking help of the tropes of fiction because in the end, it’s a story they’re telling. I would rather prefer re-watching Forrest Gump (1994) over the adorable but tedious Napoleon Dynamite (2004).

Inception- source: Warner Bros. Pictures

Christopher Nolan‘s Inception (2010) is another film prone to dissection. It is deliberately distanced from a logical world ‒ it dissolves laws of physics and turn our heads into spinning tops for fun. A film about dreams and the chain of ethereal visions that come with it is on the crosshairs of the critics that love realistic cinema.

May I ask then, how much of the human nature including the themes of familial warmth, loss, friendship, faith and hope does Inception cover? I know the answer: plenty. Be it Robert Fisher’s yearning for reconciliation with his father, or Cobb’s want to snap his wife out of eternal limbo so they could raise their kids together: the film’s main points revolve only around catharsis. People seeking refuge from being the disappointment that they are, even if put in a narrative as implausible as Inception, is great. Because along with disguising its themes, the film wraps up with more than an emotional impact. It sends you thinking about the grand scheme of things.

Case Study: Gravity

Alfonso Cuarón’s Gravity was the subject of endless discussion and debate among film geeks and astrophysicists alike. Neil deGrasse Tyson smashed the flimsy physics of the film by posting a series of tweets which made Kevin Grazier, the science adviser on the film hopping mad. There was a steaming debate about Clooney‘s character: did he really have to let go to save Ryan (Sandra Bullock)? Many people including Tyson argue that since Clooney was in free-fall in Zero-G, a single tug could have brought the two characters together owing to their weightlessness. Despite the technical irregularities, Tyson admits that Gravity highlights a very real problem of the increasing amount of space junk orbiting our planet. The film’s nagging sensibilities actually point to a question that is important for the safety of future space explorations. That being said, he also admitted that he enjoyed the film. Nothing like good old Hollywood fun, eh?

Criticisms aside, Gravity‘s enormous visual impact drove the film to great success. It succeeded in turning a lot of people off who disagreed with its basic science in places, but it also gathered a lot of love both from the critics and the audience. The stunning visual effects, Emmanuel Lubezki‘s beautiful cinematography and the assured direction of Alfonso Cuarón put Gravity in a superior class of cinema altogether. It got a lot of things wrong, we get it. But it also got a huge chunk of teenagers interested in things which they would have slept through in school. Gravity‘s aesthetics and craft will be a mark on the history of cinematic evolution. Forever.

The main presupposition of this article is that everything written about film is no more than an opinion, as is the case with this article. I say high realism does not necessarily equal better film, and would love to discuss this further in the comments. Please leave your valuable feedback!