To raise the issue of how to ‘read film’, may appear to some superfluous. Film seems so accessible and immediate a form that the notion that people require guidance in understanding its message, or ‘language’, may appear both patronising and peculiar. Indeed, the seeming simplicity of film and its apparent lack of ambiguity when compared with other art forms have contributed considerably to its popularity. Allied to this has been the driving force within commercial film-making practice since its first appearance: greater verisimilitude, or the ability to represent the world as we know it as closely as possible to its actual appearance in reality. As James Monaco has noted, the placing of film among the recording arts reflects its ability to ‘provide a more direct path between subject and observer’ (2000, p. 27). However, film’s popularity is not just because of its ability to render reality as we know it; films have been carefully designed to evoke responses from viewers, a process that has developed substantially since the first moving picture images flickered across screens in the mid-1890s. These designs are dependant on decisions regarding the form and style of a particular film, decisions that encompass stylistic techniques crucial to the realisation of film including narrative, mise-en-scène, cinematography, editing and sound. Decisions on each of these techniques are themselves influenced by financial, social, cultural and sometimes political considerations. Furthermore, due to its powerful potential to affect viewers by dynamically engaging their expectations and emotions, film can itself have an impact in some or all of these areas. Indeed, given all of this, commercial cinema in general, and Hollywood cinema in particular, might be more correctly described in Rick Altman’s terms as ‘a deceptively obvious cinema’ (1999, p. 135).
Form and style in film
Film’s success and its engagement of audiences depend on the successful creation of a pattern, or form, by those responsible for the production of a film. This pattern can be described as a film’s form and it responds to, and exploits, the natural human inclination to seek a structured experience in what we encounter (Bordwell and Thompson, 2010, p. 56). To understand form in film, therefore, an important starting point is those who perceive the films themselves, the audience. Films encourage, or cue, us to make connections, identify significant moments and recognise important references and often our enjoyment, or otherwise, of a film will depend on how well a particular film succeeds in doing so. The attraction of sport, therefore, for filmmakers is immediately apparent as one of the most popular cultural practices, in all its various forms, in everyday life across the world. Indeed, as Poulton and Roderick observe, ‘sport offers everything a good story should have: heroes and villains, triumph and disaster, achievement and despair, tension and drama. Consequently, sport makes for a compelling film narrative and films, in turn, are a vivid medium for sport’ (2008, p. 107).
A film’s form can be described as ‘the overall system of relations that we can perceive among the elements in the whole film’ (Bordwell and Thompson, 2010, p. 57). This system is composed of narrative elements (the film’s story) and stylistic elements, including a film’s mise-en-scène, cinematography, editing and sound. It also depends on audience expectations as audiences naturally seek some sense of order, coherence and continuity in cultural forms including film. Films, however, play with audience expectations regarding formal patterns and sometimes a film’s success is contributed to by the manner in which it departs in surprising or unexpected ways from established formal conventions. Over time, dominant styles or traditions emerge in films, sometimes coalescing into rules or conventions that dictate much of what happens in a particular film. These conventions are crucial to the emergence of film genres, such as the sports film genre, marked by familiar and recurring tropes, characters and locales and recurring patterns of storytelling. This includes the familiar final big game or athletic contest found towards the end of many sports films. Films and filmmakers are also influenced by previous films and patterns of storytelling, as well as patterns found in other art forms. An audience’s prior experience and familiarity with specific conventions in film will cue them as well to respond in particular ways to subsequent films.
Narrative
A crucial part of a film’s form is its narrative. Film narrative can be described as ‘a chain of events linked by cause and effect and occurring in time and space’ (Bordwell and Thompson, 2010, p. 79). This approach to narrative is commonly associated with Hollywood film, though, as we will see below, there are alternate ways of understanding how narrative functions within Hollywood, and particularly genre, film. Narrative is composed principally of two elements, story and plot. While the story refers to all the events, both those screened in the film and inferred by it, the plot refers only to what we are visibly and audibly presented with within the film itself. One of the most basic narrative patterns found in many artworks is the three-act structure. It is a structure that can be found as far back as Greek theatre and the writings of Aristotle who described a good story as having a beginning, a middle and an end. These sections comprised a work’s exposition – its opening in which characters and background information are introduced as well as, later on, the main conflict that provides the central concern of the second part (or middle) of the film before moving towards some resolution in the final part (the end) (Sikov, 2010, p. 105). This very loosely defined structure has been modified to describe films with Richard Barsam suggesting a five-part structure as characteristic of commercial, and particularly Hollywood, cinema. This includes exposition, rising action (‘the principal conflict develops and may be complicated by the introduction of related secondary conflicts’), climax (‘the turning point’), falling action (‘the principal conflict moves towards resolution’) and denouement (‘everything is made clear and no questions or surprises remain’) (2007, p. 59). Codified sport provides a very appropriate and attractive subject for such a structure with most sporting contests – from basketball, to association football, American football or baseball – containing within them elements of this structure. This includes exposition, with the introduction of both teams and players at the beginning of games both in match programmes and by announcers and commentators at the games themselves and through the media; rising action, as the game develops and the key conflicts emerge between individual players and the teams as a whole; the climax of a game can come with the scoring of a crucial penalty in a soccer game or a touchdown that turns the game in favour of one team or another; the falling action frequently follows this as one team consolidates their winning position; while the denouement arrives at the end of the game when the winners or losers are clearly identified on the scoreboard. As with film, this pattern is not always precisely followed, and a sporting contest, much as with a film, may have several climaxes – or its climax may occur towards the end rather than in the middle, of the film. Alternatively, some films may refuse the denouement and leave the ending open-ended with no clear resolution, much as some sporting events may not result in clear winners or losers but in a drawn contest. However, this structure remains remarkably popular in both Hollywood films and in sporting contests. Film and sport both provide familiar narratives and structures but it’s the ability to rework and the possibility of surprising twists and turns that are among the main attractions for audiences of both.
A film’s narrative is a crucial part of its appeal. Prior familiarity with the story to be found in the film can be an added attraction for audiences, as in biopics of sporting heroes such as Lou Gehrig (The Pride of the Yankees (1942)), Muhammad Ali (Ali (2001)), or Maurice Richard (Maurice Richard (2005)). Beyond stories we are familiar with, we may also have expectations about the theme of the narrative, how the narrative will be structured or the types of incidents we may encounter in a particular film, often flagged by the titles of film genres such as comedy, thriller or musical. The sports film genre will be considered in more detail in Chapter 3 but for the moment it is worth noting a significant parallel between genre – a crucial aspect of popular filmmaking – and sport. Much as sport has been described as taking place ‘within limits set in explicit and formal rules governing role and position relationships’ (Edwards, 1973, pp. 57–58), Thomas Schatz has defined film genre as ‘a specific grammar or system of rules of expression and construction and the individual genre film as a manifestation of these rules’ (1991, p. 644). However, as noted above, it is the ability of individual genre films to rework the expectations of the genre that can often be among the most appealing characteristics of individual films, much as the enjoyment of sport depends significantly, for spectators, on its unpredictability.
Crucial to the development of most commercial film narratives is causality. Why did Rocky fight for the world heavyweight title? Because Apollo Creed wanted to give a no-hoper a crack at his crown after his intended opponent pulled out of a heavyweight bout due to injury. In most films, it is the characters that are the agents of cause and effect. As in real life, we seek to identify traits of characters in films, traits that often have a crucial bearing on the action in the film. As Bordwell and Thompson observe, most ‘patterns of plot development depend heavily on the ways that causes and effects create a change in a character’s situation. The most common general pattern is a change in knowledge’ (2010, p. 91). A very popular pattern of development in Hollywood and commercial film is the goal-orientated plot in which a character or characters attempt to achieve specific goals or outcomes. This goal or ‘heroic quest’ structure, has a precedent in ancient Greek ritual drama and sacred games (Edinger, 1976, p. 68; Tudor, 1997, p. 6) and has been identified by David Mosher as contributing to ‘a romantic impulse that is the essence of both sport and culture’ (1983, p. 16). Furthermore, many sports films lead ‘to a climactic struggle between hero and villain and conclude with the exaltation of the hero’ (Mosher, 1983, p. 16). Sport, therefore, provides an obvious setting to find such goal-orientated characters. Whether based on individual athletes, or teams, most sports films are focused on the attempts of the central protagonists to achieve a particular goal – Olympic glory (Chariots of Fire (1981)), Grand National victory (National Velvet (1944)) or the state championship (Hoosiers (1986)) to name but a few – providing appealing material for one of the most popular and recognisable plot patterns in commercial film. A goal-orientated plot is also often combined with others, including those provided by time and space as in the documentary Hoop Dreams (1994) which is structured around the high school careers of its two main protagonists and their attempts to become professional basketball players.
Specific expectations are created as a result of patterns of plot development. The decline of a boxer, for example, is often marked by his physical and sometimes moral deterioration between fights and we are cued to expect his eventual defeat in the ring. When a sporting contest is announced in a film, we anticipate its eventual occurrence and the attempts of the central protagonists to achieve victory, as in the announcement of the upcoming Little 500 race in Breaking Away (1979). However, an expected or hoped-for outcome is typically delayed along the way, as in Dave Stoller’s (Dennis Christopher) disillusionment in Breaking Away with cycling and threat to not enter the Little 500 after being unfairly forced out of an earlier race by a professional Italian team.
Although a huge number of narrative structures are possible, a single tradition of narrative form has dominated fiction filmmaking, a mode referred to as classical Hollywood filmmaking. Though associated with Hollywood, the centre that developed and popularised the form most successfully, the form is found in national cinemas internationally. Even documentary, as identified increasingly by commentators (Morrison, 2004; Arthur, 2005; McDonald, 2007), often draws on conventions associated with this form. A fundamental requirement in this form is that
action will spring primarily from individual characters as causal agents. Natural causes (floods, earthquakes) or societal causes (institutions, wars, economic depressions) may affect the action, but the narrative centers on personal psychological causes: decisions, choices, and traits of character.
(Bordwell and Thompson, 2010, p. 102)
A central impetus in this form is the desire of a central character, for example for sporting success, a desire which sets up a central goal which shapes the narrative of the film. In this form, the central character’s attempt to achieve his/her goal is not straightforward or unchallenged, and typically an opponent with their own goals and traits is encountered creating a conflict. Again sport provides ready-made material for such a form. The protagonist must engage with this opposition, and hopefully overcome in order to achieve his/her goal. The central dynamic of cause and effect in this form implies change and typically characters undergo some change and development over the duration of the film. Following this trajectory, all other elements, including time and space, are subordinated to the cause–effect chain in the classical Hollywood form.1
However, while the cause and effect dynamic is a crucial part of Hollywood film, it isn’t the only way of understanding the appeal of these films. Rick Altman has argued that fertile juxtaposition is essential to the attraction of Hollywood film. Rather than seeing events in a film as part of a narrative chain, Altman contends that
we have something more like a puzzle, where each piece is valorized not by a single cause and a single effect, but by several surrounding pieces. Typically treated according to a temporal (and linear) model, Hollywood narrative gains from being seen instead through the more complex and more open spatial model of juxtaposition. More akin to multiple-plot medieval Grail romances and nineteenth-century serial novels than to the linear psychological novels on which most narrative theory has been based, Hollywood films gain much of their power from a careful interlacing of multiple characters, plots and themes.
(1999, p. 136)
Altman views the structure of Hollywood films as closer to ‘the dual-focus configuration of melodrama than to the single-focus arrangement of Aristotelian narrative’ and identifies ‘generic crossroads’ as crucial to their development, whereby rather than ‘specific causes leading to necessary effects, culminating in a fully logical conclusion, ge...