Eric Lichtenfeld, Excerpts & Conclusion: Sifting Through the Rubble

(In Action Speaks Louder)

I've more or less finished with Lichtenfeld's book (having spent more time than I intended with it, although I regret nothing), and so these are a few brief final notes before I move on to some other books on the Action genre.

Lichtenfeld points out the interesting process by which the 1970s style of disaster-spectacle films which co-existed with the earliest Action films becomes conflated with the Action genre in the 1990s, creating a cycle of transgeneric films which strip Action of much of its Western and film noir elements (not to mention its emphasis on direct conflict between characters, replacing the enemy with a force of nature).

If action films are constructed according to principles of acceleration and passion, as indicated in a previous post, then it's easy to see why John Woo's films and American descendants like The Matrix (and perhaps this week's Wanted?) are so effective at de- and re-constructing the genre; the use of slow motion draws out acceleration without robbing it of its velocity, which in turn intensifies the passion of an action sequence. It simultaneously draws the audience in and pushes them away, creating a sort of detached but highly focuses engagement with the scene.

Ultimately Lichtenfeld characterizes the Action genre - in the face of a wide cultural, structural, formal and narrative variations within the grouping - as films which privilege aestheticized violence, and I think that this, combined with the acceleration/passion concept and the notion of regularly-paced spectacles is a useful definition. Disaster movies and other similar genres and subgenres, in which there is not violence per se (in the sense of humans enacting violence on each other, which is key to the genre) must be treated somewhat differently. (Although, as indicated above, the transgeneric nature of all films creates a great deal of overlap.)

Eric Lichtenfeld, Into the Jungle, Out of the Wasteland: Action in the Wild

(In Action Speaks Louder)

This chapter discusses the wilderness- and post-apocalyptic-set action films of the 1980s, including the latter Rambo films and the Missing in Action and Mad Max franchises. Lichtenfeld points out the importance of capture/rescue in these films, which becomes a core feature of the Rambo franchise after the first film (which, indeed, involves capture if not rescue).

The reversion to a more primal state on the part of the action hero is also common, and can be found in almost all of my primary texts, save perhaps for the Terminator series (although, Sarah Connor could be seen as embodying this). Even Indiana Jones becomes increasingly savage in key fight scenes.

Lichtenfeld expands the dichotomy foundin the Rambo franchise and other action films of superhero/underdog, which I've noted before, to include primitive/modern - Rambo uses both archaic and contemporary weapons and similarly fuses old-fashioned and modernist ideologies and attitudes towards conflict. The futuristic bow with explosive-tipped arrows is a perfect example of this.

Eric Lichtenfeld, Enter the Fists: The Body as the Weapon

(In Action Speaks Louder)

This chapter, hilariously, is almost entirely about Chuck Norris and Steven Segal, and really demonstrates how in spite of subsequent ridicule and extensive satire, they and others, such as Jean-Claude Van Damme, were very much a part of the popular action film landscape in the 1980s. Indeed, many of Norris' films are carbon-copy of what Stallone was doing in the period.

One thing that I think causes this shift in popularity is the emphasis on martial arts, which I suspect eventually was seen as inauthentic compared to "genuine" Asian martial arts films. Indeed, later in his career Chuck Norris essentially abandoned martial arts in favour of guns as his primary method of dispatchment, and the Rambo/Terminator style of action hero became the accepted version. In any case, these films are very different from their Asian counterparts, and fit very closely within the American Action film genre I have discussed previously.

One structural/formal technique that Lichtenfeld describes very effectively is the "victory without agency," in which an action hero is pummeled mercilessly until the very end of a fight scene, when he suddenly finds the hidden strength to instantly destroy his opponent with some kind of single super-move. His pointing it out made me chuckle, because in my youth the various action sequences I wrote, drew and acted out with toys almost invariably ended this way. These moments are especially common in Chuck Norris films, apparently, and was largely superceded by the Die Hard formula, in which the hero sustains and deals significant damage before finally, just barely, gaining the upper hand.

Lichtenfeld suggests that Van Damme, for his part, represents a sort of middle-of-the-road between the hard-bodied Rambo aesthetic and the body-as-a-weapon style of action demonstrated by Segal and early Norris, much in the same way that Norris' later films combine the martial artist body aesthetic with gun-oriented action.

Lethal Weapon is also discussed, which could have been an interesting additional film for my thesis if not for the franchise's fairly regular and consistent pattern of release. The character of Riggs especially, who is recast after the first film as a much more light-hearted (rather than suicidally apathetic) character, and the increased emphasis on buddy comedy in each subsequent film. The franchise can also be seen as part of the transition from more self-serious films such as the Rambo franchise towards self-deprecating heroes like John McClane.

Eric Lichtenfeld, Blowing Up All Those Familiar Places: Terror and the Confined Arena

(In Action Speaks Louder)

A few chapters later, Lichtenfeld addresses Die Hard and, as he puts it, the "Die Hard-On-a-Something" film, which adapts the basic formula to a new setting - Under Siege is Die Hard on a boat, and so on. He usefully analyses the formula which defines Die Hard and Die Hard 2, and notes that due to the "everyman" quality of John McClane (and most heroes of the subgenre) sequels pose an interesting challenge. In my discussion of the franchise, I'll have to consider how it avoids mythologizing McClane - or how it embraces the myth. He also stresses the importance of setting in these films, and how they are presented with awe and majesty, as spectacle unto themselves, in the same way that the hard-body's muscles are filmed.

It also occured to me while reading that perhaps the reason why Die Hard With a Vengeance and Live Free or Die Hard deemphasize the enclosed spaces which so define the first two films is precisely due to the proliferation of Die Hard clones in the 1990s - indeed, Lichtenfeld notes that a proposed Die Hard 3 was initially cancelled due to similarity to Under Siege. Although parts of the latter Die Hard films feature action in confined areas, they are incidental to the larger structure, rather than defining. Especially when dealing with such iconic characters, it pays to examine competing and derivative films, which can have a major effect on the development of a franchise.

One criticism I have of this chapter is that as Lichtenfeld moves into the Bruckheimer/Bay era of action films, he becomes suddenly judgmental - after five chapters of discussing a wide variety of terrible films (particularly those featuring Steven Segal and Chuck Norris), Lichtenfeld spends too much time singling out The Rock and Con Air as "overedited," "oversaturated" and so on - at the expense of more interesting analysis of the somewhat unconventional Nicholas Cage heroes of each film. Certainly, the man is entitled to an opinion, and qualitative commentary has a place in academic work, but it shouldn't become the focus. That part of the chapter feels more like a disgruntled review than anything else.

Eric Lichtenfeld, Automatons: Hard-bodies and World Pacification

(In Action Speaks Louder)

Lichtenfeld moves into the 1980s, and some of my primary texts, particularly the Rambo and Terminator franchises. He discusses at length the dichotomy found in many action hero narratives, where the hero is both an indestructible superhuman killing machine, but also somehow an underdog - incoherent, but it underpins many of these films, especially First Blood.

I hadn't considered this point before, but it seems like the nature of John Rambo's power is changed over the course of the franchise... where in First Blood and Rambo: First Blood Part II he is a machine created by Col. Trautman and the ravages of 'Nam, and his violent abilities are sort of an unwanted gift, in the latter films it becomes an inevitability, as if Trautman had simply uncovered what was already there - an inherent predisposition towards incredible acts of violent power. This extends to the newest Rambo, which treats it as a mythical power which Rambo cannot escape and must embrace in order to find any kind of solace.

The machine-ness of Rambo of course becomes literal with The Terminator, a robot from the future. Lichtenfeld discusses how weapons and hardware come to signify the hero - such as the helicopters piloted by Rambo - but in the Terminator franchise, the hero is hardware.

I noted the highly stylized nature of the most recent Rambo movie, and Lichtenfeld makes similar comments when addressing Cobra, an earlier post-First Blood Part II Stallone film that emphasizes style above all else. This hyperstylization can be seen as part of the myth-making of the genre. Lichtenfeld also suggests the importance of ritual (often through montage) in articulating the mythology of Action films, as evidenced by scenes of preparation and equipping.

Eric Lichtenfeld, "The Law's Crazy": The Vigilante and Other Myths

(In Action Speaks Louder)

More good stuff from this book. The first chapter heavily emphasizes what Lichtenfeld considers to be the first action film (I wonder if I should start capitalizing Action when referring to the formalized genre, rather than to the broader style of film), Dirty Harry, also from 1971. He makes a convincing argument - compared to Bullitt, Billy Jack, The French Connection, Dirty Harry seems significantly more archetypal. Interesting for my purposes is that it is also the first Action movie franchise.

The rupturous car chases and other action setpieces in proto-Action films are streamlined into intermittent, regularly paced spectacular action sequences, emphasizing an idea Lichtenfeld lifts from another auther: passion and acceleration. Passion refers to the emotional and physical experience which the hero must survive, while acceleration (obviously) refers to the increasing tension as the film careens towards a cathartic conclusion.

Lichtenfeld also discusses the fetishization of weaponry, and the emphasis given to changes and differences in the equipment of violence. This extends to franchises at large, as Action heroes upgrade and adapt their weaponry according to the particular logic of the franchise. Harry's .44 Magnum is a staple of the character (although upgraded to an automatic briefly later in the franchise), as is Indiana Jones' whip - on the other hand, John McClane and the Terminator are not associated with any particular weapon. Rambo has a wide but reliable arsenal, parituclarly his knife, bow and arrow and M60 machine gun. Interestingly, however, in the Rambo franchise his knife changes dimensions and design in each film (as does the barrel length of Harry's .44), which is an interesting way of maintaining continuity but still presenting something ostensibly new and exciting.

The chapter also notes how early Action films remain largely within the modern, urban spaces associated with film noir - it is not until closer to the 1980s that the Action genre gets out of the city and begins to globe-trot - as indicated by the four franchises with which I am concerned.

Eric Lichtenfeld, Introduction: A Little Violence Never Hurt Anyone and Prelude: 1971

(In Action Speaks Louder)

This is looking to be a very good book - Lichtenfeld seems to share many of my own views on genre and on action cinema, not to mention film scholarship in general. In particular, he espouses an integrated approach to Hollywood cinema, including textual/formal analysis, cultural reception studies and industry/marketing concerns but not limited to any one type of study. I think this kind of approach is incredibly effective, and some of my favourite books and authors employ similar tactics (Justin Wyatt in particular).

Further proving that we're on the same page, Lichtenfeld articulates an argument about the genesis of action movies which is similar to my musings in earlier posts. He suggests that action films (as a genre) do not really emerge until the early 1970s, and represent a convergence of several other genres: the western, the film noir, the police procedural and the gangster film. Additionally, the intensified representation of violence in counterculture films like Bonnie and Clyde is reconfigured as pleasurable spectacle as opposed to jarring political statement.

Lichtenfeld apparently avoids discussing James Bond in too much detail throughout the book, arguing that although the influence of Bond is important, the franchise must be seen as a parallel phenomenon, rather than as part of the generic development of the action film. I'm not sure if I fully agree with that (the James Bond films are about as British as the Jason Bourne films are German), but it occured to me that martial arts movies - which are certainly action films in a broad sense - can be viewed in a similar way, as a parallel genre emerging earlier from different industrial and cultural conditions, but having an undeniable influence on the American action movie genre. Essentially, this formulation avoids problems of taxomomy, by attributing divergences between kung fu movies and American action movies to generic difference as opposed to attempting to articulate a definition of "action film" which includes both forms.

In discussing proto-action vigilante films from the year 1971 - a watershed year for the emerging genre - he notes that although spectacular action sequences begin to appear in films such as Bullitt and The French Connection, it is not until later that these sequences become the focus in films, driving the narrative forward as opposed to interrupting it. The famous car chases in those two films are perfect examples of this narrative divergence.

An important aspect of high concept action movies in the 1980s is the physicality of the hero, and his ability to withstand pain and opposing force in order to save the day - especially in the Rambo and Die Hard franchises, but also in the Indiana Jones and The Terminator Lichtenfeld makes the logical suggestion that this comes from film noir, in which the private dick is often beaten or tortured in the course of his investigation, but doesn't crack or back down. In action films, this threshold for pain becomes a weapon unto itself, an active, agressive way of asserting power, as opposed to a passive resistance as in film noir.

Another interesting idea that crossed my mind, while reading about Shaft in the Prelude, is that the blaxploitation hero's status as a "super spade" who is beyond reproach and virtually invunerable, while often seen as a compensatory way of promoting the black hero to black audiences, can also be situated as an important predecessor to the archetypal action hero, who is similarly unflappable and unstoppable.

The length of this post should indicate how potentially useful and fascinating this book is. It looks like Lichtenfeld has a Blogspot blog of his own, and has posted about some of my primary texts, in addition to writing journalistic articles about them. I'll have to check some of this stuff out later on.