Exploring Cinematic Nostalgia Through Defined Spaces: A Deconstruction of Zemeckis' 'Here'
ICARO Media Group
### Zemeckis Takes a Nostalgic Dive into Theatrical Filmmaking with "Here"
Renowned director Robert Zemeckis brings a novel approach to storytelling with his latest film, "Here," shifting the cinematic focus to the spaces we occupy and their evolving histories. By centering the narrative from the point of view of a defined space, Zemeckis experiments with visual transitions and nostalgic references, emphasizing the unchanging nature of locations amidst the flow of time.
"Here" employs historical shifts deftly, using iconic moments like The Beatles' performance on Ed Sullivan to bridge different eras. These transitions are Zemeckis' way of hiding the seams in his narrative technique, yet they do more to evoke nostalgia than to drive a compelling plot. The film intertwines moments of everyday life with references like The Beatles, not to probe deeper meanings, but to craft a continuum of time that audiences find familiar.
David Lowery's 2015 film, "A Ghost Story," also explored the history of a space through the eyes of a ghost. In contrast, Zemeckis sticks to the land's perspective in "Here," enabling him to effortlessly glide between different periods. Characters move through the space in a manner that interacts with the camera's supposed ownership of the area, granting the film a theatrical feel. By breaking the fourth wall, Zemeckis allows his actors to directly address the audience, further enhancing this notion.
Zemeckis grants significant autonomy to his actors, especially Paul Bettany, who plays Richard's father, Al. Rather than relying on close-ups, the film permits actors to draw closer to the camera, thus revealing their emotions directly to the audience. The action predominantly takes place around the living room, where the characters discuss matters as mundane as furniture, adding a layer of irony to the very essence of the film.
In a move that underlines the theme of impermanence, Zemeckis meticulously rearranges furniture, electronics, and the scene outside the living room window. This approach not only segments the narrative space but also imbues it with particular emotional significance. Tom Hanks, portrayed at his easel beneath an ancient moon, conveys more emotion through stillness than any scripted outburst could achieve, underlining the importance of mise-en-scène in a film grounded in a singular perspective.
The film's perspective remains static until the concluding sequence. Following a hummingbird-a motif reminiscent of the floating feather in "Forrest Gump"-Zemeckis elevates the camera to the top of a historical mansion. This shift underscores the universality of the stories told, albeit in broad strokes. The camera serves as an omnipresent observer, framing human experiences like financial woes and familial disputes, yet leaves the deeper intricacies of life unexplored.
Zemeckis' decision to eschew chaotic comic influences in favor of a more controlled, theme park-inspired approach results in a film that feels more like a staged play. With its superficial dramatis personae and rigid blocking, "Here" ultimately transforms its actors into mere puppets within the director's controlled environment. The potential for profound storytelling seems lost to a focus on nostalgia and technological prowess, which, paradoxically, drains the film of its human essence.
In essence, "Here" serves as both a technical marvel and a nostalgic homage, yet it falls short in capturing the raw, unpredictable essence of human life, replacing it with a formulaic and directed experience. The film stands as a testament to Zemeckis' unique vision but underscores the limitations brought about by its heavily controlled execution.