Michael's Shot

Firstly, a little background information is necessary to fully appreciate this photo. This picture was taken at the end of Game 6 of the NBA Finals. The Chicago Bulls were leading the Utah Jazz in the series 3-2, and one more win would give the Bulls an NBA Championship. The score of the game at the time of this shot? 86-85, Utah. Thus, the happenings described by this photo are of utmost importance in the context of the game, the Finals, and the NBA.




The focal points of the picture stand out easily because the entire background of the photograph is painted with a united front of fans (the fans’ concentration on the game further demonstrates the utter importance of the situation). First, the viewer sees the players on the court, as they stand out as central figures relative to the background. Mainly, the bold red jerseys of the Chicago Bulls-the best team in the league- stand out. The easiest player to pick out in the picture is superstar Michael Jordan, fittingly, because he is regarded as the best player of all time, and appropriately is taking the shot that matters the most. Also notice the shot clock, otlined in yellow at the top of the photo. It stand out due to its color and solid shape, but it also signals the significance of the shot; it shows a mere 6.6 seconds remaining in the game. Everything-the outcome of the game, the fans’ reaction, the oher players’ emotion- relies on him, and therefore he is the makeup of the photo. All else is dependent on his shot. Also

The preceding objects the viewer notices are tools which Michael needs to complete his endeavor: the ball, gloriously hanging in the air and about to test fate, and the backboard, patiently waiting there, on the verge of answering everyone’s questions. These are the only onjects not dependent on Michael Jordan’s shot, and thus stand out equally in the photograph.



Michael made the shot and the Bulls won 87-86 over the Jazz, thus capturing the NBA Title.

Response to Pulp Fiction Review

Response to Pulp Fiction Review
James Berardinelli, author of over 3,300 movie reviews, has a good deal of experience in watching movies. So when James Berardinelli watches a movie, it’s a good bet that he knows what he is watching for. If a movie is meant to be a comedy, Berardinelli will view it through a non-serious, untraditional scope. He understands what the director wants to accomplish with his film.
When I first saw Pulp Fiction, I was fascinated. All I had previously known was that the movie was, by public perception, very good. Full of twists and turns; drama, mystery, murder, and crime; yet also humor and spontaneity, Pulp Fiction seemingly dominated every genre one movie could possibly contain. With so many differing elements, I didn’t know what to make of it. As full of excitement as it was, I wasn’t sure I had enjoyed the radical chaos.
Berardinelli begins his review of Pulp Fiction by clearly stating his viewpoint that Director Quentin Tarantino created a classic and lived up to “expectations that are invariably high.” He then explains the layout of the movie (a three-part story with interwoven subplots) in a clear manner, which, even though I hadn’t seen the movie in roughly a year, helped recall my memory and even answer some questions the chaos had created. Although he spends a good portion of his review explaining the plot, Berardinelli takes into account that the common audience, myself included, may be left in the dust by the spontaneity and suddenness of transpiring events in Pulp Fiction. Thus, his review is justified in its lengthy demonstration of Tarantino’s three-part story.
After reading Berardinelli’s review, I gained an understanding of the purpose of Pulp Fiction that had been sorely lacking in my prior judgment of the movie. Throughout the review, Berardinelli emphasizes the humor embedded in Pulp Fiction: “vulgarity-laced monologues and conversations ripple with humor and are ripe with points to ponder…he presents meaningless issues in an intensely-fascinating and almost lyrical fashion.” Indeed, when I had watched Pulp Fiction, I was watching with an ear for the serious ton, realistic monologues, underlying messages and an overall theme. While I was ready for the vulgarity, I was lost in the meaninglessness of the conversations, especially because every situation, dependent on these conversations, posed life-or-death consequences. This is why it didn’t make sense to me at first: I hadn’t realized that Tarantino is completely mocking present day government-gang relations, and at no moment of the movie are the situations presented supposed to be serious, although the characters’ tones may seem otherwise.
I was somewhat foolish in trying to take a movie titled Pulp Fiction as a realistic film. James Berardinelli opened my eyes to what Pulp Fiction really portrayed. Instead, it is indeed filled to the brim with juicy, pulpy action, and, within the realm of the possible, it’s so ultimately unrealistic that it can be reduced to fiction. Because the film is not to be taken seriously, one must keep in mind that the random, tiny details and events do not mean anything whatsoever; instead of analyzing the film, as Berardinelli relates, just sit back and enjoy the hilarity that ensues. There are no themes or important underlying messages; it’s just a completely entertaining thriller. Without even rewatching the movie a second time, I now view it as one of my favorites, solely because Berardinelli’s review helped me understand Tarantino’s purpose.

Ingloriously Overrated

Nearly every young person I know who saw Inglourious Basterds this summer absolutely loved it. The movie, based during World War II, focuses on a group of Jewish-American rebels-known as the Inglourious Basterds- who storm through Europe, hunting down and killing Nazi groups, and their plot to take down the German regime. At the same time, a young Jewish women who own a small theatre also plans to get revenge on the Nazis, unbeknownst to the Basterds. After this was explained to me, and it sounded definitely worth the price of admission, as an American Gangster, Departed-type action/crime/drama. And to an extent, it was.

Inglourious Basterds, however, staked its claim to fame in its fine mix of radically differing emotions: dramatic shock and awe with spontaneous humor. This unexpected, appealing mix-up helped keep the audience entertained- something the movie needed with its 153-minute runtime and tiresome subtitles.

The movie had everything. Brad Pitt, acting brilliantly as a U.S. Lieutenant and speaking Italian with a silly Tennessee accent. Graphic, bloody scenes only a Quentin Tarantino film could produce. An appalling storyline with a well-known back story. Three prevalent languages for a diverse audience. And a unique, realistic, not-so-Hollywood script. It was absolutely full to the brim, bordering on overflowing, with detail.

Over time, I’ve realized the movies I have enjoyed the most were the best at building to a climax and drawing out specific sentiments. The Green Mile and The Pursuit of Happyness drew out sadness. Remember the Titans and Gladiator, justice. Jerry Maguire and Pay It Forward, love. The Princess Bride and Weekend at Bernie’s, humor. By leading up to and focusing solely on such sensations, the movies enhanced the meanings of those emotions and hence amplified their importance. When John Coffey is executed in The Green Mile, I cried. When Maximus avenges his family’s death in Gladiator, goosebumps rose over my whole body.

These scenes work well because they draw the sentiment out extensively. They push the limit on what buttons to press and how hard to press them. Inglorious Basterds, on the other hand, presses all the buttons. It goes the comedy route, as well as the thrilling, awe-inspiring route. That’s not to say that in order to make a great serious movie, there can be no funny parts. In The Green Mile, the other death-row prison guards play hilarious pranks on Percy to get back at him for his dry-execution torture of an inmate. But there’s a time and a place for humor. The guards’ revenge on Percy came unexpectedly, awhile after Percy horrifying torture, and after the shock had worn off.

Inglourious Basterds differs from this sentiment in that it switches gears from the shocking to the funny strikingly quick. The change of pace enhances the humor, but it’s too quick; emotions from the last scene are still in full effect. For example, when the “Bear Jew” first appears in the movie, about to brutally execute a Nazi, his entrance is played out in slow motion, portraying his total badass-ness. His dominating presence is intended to intimidate. Then, out of nowhere, the film switches to a full-speed attack of the Bear Jew on the Nazi, accompanied by shouts and insults intended to be funny. Meanwhile, I’m still mired in admiration for the Bear Jew and his aura, unprepared for the switch in tone. There are several other examples of tone switches like this throughout the movie, which left me in the dust. I felt the movie could have been made stellar with a few subtle changes, which would have focused the movie on either a humorous or a dramatic theme. That way, the full sentiments from the scenes can be conveyed to the audience, and thus extract the most intense emotions.

I liked the movie, but Inglorious Basterds missed a golden opportunity; if it had lived up to its potential, it could have gone down as a classic similar to Scarface or The Godfather. A funny movie should be a funny movie. A thriller is a thriller. A funny movie, however, cannot be a thriller.