Jack Heath's Blog - Posts Tagged "indiana-jones"
There's a scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade...
...where Indi (Harrison Ford) and his father (Sean Connery) are tied to chairs, having been captured by Nazis after Indi's girlfriend betrayed them.
Indi quietly asks his father, "How did you know she was a Nazi?"
His father replies, "She talks in her sleep."
Indi does a double-take.
When I first saw that movie I was about 8, sitting cross-legged on the carpet in my parents' house, way too close to their CRT television. I thought, "Nazis talk in their sleep? What an interesting piece of trivia."
I watched that movie a lot of times over the next few years. When I was about 12, and old enough to realise the idea that Nazis talk in their sleep was absurd, I interpreted the double-take differently. I thought, "Ohhh. Indi has suddenly realised his father has lost his marbles."
It's been more than 20 years since I've seen that movie, but having watched it over and over back when my brain was still spongy and malleable, I don't need to see it again. I can watch a highlight reel in my head whenever I feel like it (although while fact-checking this piece I noticed that Ford and Connery weren't tied to chairs, as I remembered). This scene popped into my head recently, and I finally, finally, understood why Indi was so startled.
It made me laugh.
I'm sharing this story because I've been thinking about how many metrics are involved in the consumption of art these days. When Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade came out, there weren't many ways of measuring its success - just the number of dollars it earned at the box office, the quality of the reviews in the newspapers, and the number of Oscars it was eventually nominated for (3, winning 1). If it were made now, the distributor could track not only how many people watched it, but at exactly what point viewers were most likely to stop watching, which scenes got paused and replayed, and how likely viewers were to tell their friends about it on social media. All this extra data seems like it should help filmmakers tell better stories.
But how do you track which jokes will make people laugh, when they're thinking about it 20 years later?
You don't, I guess. Algorithms can track your behaviour, but they can't actually spy on your thoughts (yet). So, creators optimise for the data they do have. This creates an incentive to tell stories which keep people watching, listening and sharing, but which are quickly forgotten. Engaging, but evaporative. I'm sure there are many reasons for the effervescence of contemporary film and television (the sheer amount of content, pressure to compete with social media, the fact that 45% of us are watching our phones and our TVs at the same time) but this is definitely one piece of the puzzle.
I don't have Spielberg's genius, but I am lucky enough to be working in a medium that isn't quite so quantifiable (although that is changing). This means I'm free to tell the stories I think readers will remember for years to come, even if I have no way of telling whether my instincts are right.
Indi quietly asks his father, "How did you know she was a Nazi?"
His father replies, "She talks in her sleep."
Indi does a double-take.
When I first saw that movie I was about 8, sitting cross-legged on the carpet in my parents' house, way too close to their CRT television. I thought, "Nazis talk in their sleep? What an interesting piece of trivia."
I watched that movie a lot of times over the next few years. When I was about 12, and old enough to realise the idea that Nazis talk in their sleep was absurd, I interpreted the double-take differently. I thought, "Ohhh. Indi has suddenly realised his father has lost his marbles."
It's been more than 20 years since I've seen that movie, but having watched it over and over back when my brain was still spongy and malleable, I don't need to see it again. I can watch a highlight reel in my head whenever I feel like it (although while fact-checking this piece I noticed that Ford and Connery weren't tied to chairs, as I remembered). This scene popped into my head recently, and I finally, finally, understood why Indi was so startled.
It made me laugh.
I'm sharing this story because I've been thinking about how many metrics are involved in the consumption of art these days. When Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade came out, there weren't many ways of measuring its success - just the number of dollars it earned at the box office, the quality of the reviews in the newspapers, and the number of Oscars it was eventually nominated for (3, winning 1). If it were made now, the distributor could track not only how many people watched it, but at exactly what point viewers were most likely to stop watching, which scenes got paused and replayed, and how likely viewers were to tell their friends about it on social media. All this extra data seems like it should help filmmakers tell better stories.
But how do you track which jokes will make people laugh, when they're thinking about it 20 years later?
You don't, I guess. Algorithms can track your behaviour, but they can't actually spy on your thoughts (yet). So, creators optimise for the data they do have. This creates an incentive to tell stories which keep people watching, listening and sharing, but which are quickly forgotten. Engaging, but evaporative. I'm sure there are many reasons for the effervescence of contemporary film and television (the sheer amount of content, pressure to compete with social media, the fact that 45% of us are watching our phones and our TVs at the same time) but this is definitely one piece of the puzzle.
I don't have Spielberg's genius, but I am lucky enough to be working in a medium that isn't quite so quantifiable (although that is changing). This means I'm free to tell the stories I think readers will remember for years to come, even if I have no way of telling whether my instincts are right.
