Film

This is a topic that could apply to either movies or television. Disclaimers range in purpose. Sometimes they exist in order to lessen chances of physical discomfort in the audience (and thus potential lawsuits), as with seizure warnings for flashing lights (i.e. a scene in Incredibles 2) or motion sickness warnings with 3D or IMAX films. Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ was flagged for its graphic depiction of Jesus’s crucifixion. However, disclaimers have extended their reach beyond the physical realm into the psychological.

For instance, the ratings system that differentiates between what is appropriate for certain age groups can sometimes be misleading. Often in preface to cast and crew interviews, there is a text that states “the views and opinions expressed are those of the individual and do not represent those of [insert company name here].” When the Netflix series 13 Reasons Why first premiered, there was controversy it would romanticize and therefore increase the likelihood of suicide in tweens and teens. When Joker was released, there was a fear that burgeoning mass shooters would be emboldened by the film’s protagonist into taking the law into their own hands. Stanley Kubrick’s film adaptation of A Clockwork Orange was banned because of its depictions of hedonistic violence.

Just recently, the classic Gone with the Wind was briefly removed from HBO Max and then reinstated with disclaimers for fear of its depictions of the antebellum South. Disclaimers step in as “gatekeepers” of sorts, where films or T.V. shows must pass a certain purity “litmus test” to gauge not only their potential offensiveness to audiences but their ability to corrupt their audience’s minds. In what ways does this “moral panic” manifest itself in the form of media disclaimers? The threat of exploring or even simply acknowledging so-called “dangerous ideas” is oft-treaded territory, such as with George Orwell’s notions of ”groupthink.” How does the struggle to protect an unsuspecting audience devolve into a form of thought control? In what ways have such disclaimers proved beneficial?

Is it significantly harder for disabled actors to gain roles in films or television shows? How many disabled characters in film/TV are portrayed by disabled actors, and is their portrayal realistic/accurate? What do disabled people in the screen industry think needs to be done to improve disability representation/equality in the screen industry?

While the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) is an ongoing, expanding film series, the original characters from Phase I remained key characters throughout the past ten years of film. In Avengers: Endgame, some of the major original characters completed their narrative arcs including Iron Man and Captain America. With the departure of Robert Downey Jr.'s Tony Stark and Chris Evan's Steve Rogers, the MCU will need other characters to play a larger role in the overall narrative. Which new or existing characters will serve as the narrative focus for future phases of Marvel films? This article could discuss potential candidates for new corner stones of the MCU, as well as which characters have the most pressing character arcs that need to be resolved.

The Shining is a masterpiece horror, but Shelley Duvall, who plays Wendy Torrance had to go through a lot of stress while filming the climactic scene where Jack is attempting to hit her with a baseball bat as she ascends the stairs of the Overlook Hotel. To capture the character's distress and fear, director Stanley Kubrick retook the scene multiple times, and made the actress feel distressed and isolated on set. Although this lead to capturing a powerful scene, where do we draw the line in our quest for making a masterpiece?

Many villains are fan favourites, some are sassy geniuses, some are sexy temptations, some have tragic backstories and a point of view you understand, some a pure unrelenting evil. A good antagonist can be the highlight, the draw point, of a book, show or movie. But where does loving a bad guy in their role as a wicked character and source of suffering become genuine love and desire by the audience?

As fandom culture becomes more widespread and relevant in social media, it's easier than ever to see peoples opinions. And it's easier than ever to development entitled feelings to media when you can communicate with the creators over the same platforms we reveal our inner thoughts.

So when does love for villains become an issue, a detriment to the enjoyment of the content? When a viewer forgets the character is a bad guy and is devastated when treated as such? When a casual fan posts a tweet about how horrid the character is and gets bombarded with hate?

Think Joe Goldberg from You or Kylo Ren from Star Wars, add whomever you think fits into these categories, and discuss how people's opinions and entitlement have gotten out of hand.

It's no secret that film viewers often cherish the extra content attached to films. Deleted scenes, gag reels, director/actor commentary, behind the scenes footage generally.
But, why is that? An article could look at various aspects of this.
Do passionate fans just crave as much content as possible? Do film-buffs take a genuine interest in how their favourite media comes to be? Is it a learning tool? Is it a curiosity – perhaps, a curiosity to see how the people behind the serious-faced characters interact with one another? If a film is made to entertain by creating a (usually) fictitious world or story-line, then why are viewers so obsessed with this 'real-world' aspect of them?
On the other side – what do film makers gain from this? Why do they include the extra content they choose to?
This desire for extra content is evident in films like Shrek 2 where they animated an entire American Idol spoof with the characters. Or, the creators of Monsters Inc. animating various blooper scenes. Perhaps examples like this could be discussed.
This could also work for TV shows, if so preferred.

An analysis of the trend of "elevated horror", and how A24 curates and establishes the pillars of this trend through the films it chooses to purchase. There seems to be a school of thought that is under the impression that films like The Babadook, Hereditary and The Witch (which could all be considered as familial "drama" films masquerading as horror) are refreshing because horror has been "devoid of thematic resonance" in the past and the genre is having a resurgence of some kind. Important to consider that all of these filmmakers seem to hold horror at arm's length, stating in interviews that they weren't trying to make a horror film and that they see their work as a "family drama" or some other derivative and cliched response.

The film cache of War World I, World War II, and Vietnam dramatizations are continual fodder for the curious and critic alike. The ancient battles of Europe and Asia have had their turn in front of the camera lens and the recent terrorism and rogue posturing leave no doubt that the theaters will draw revelers back in droves for the foreseeable future. Does the war formula of the past persist in terms of viewer expectation and recent innovation such as night vision? How does the ever changing geopolitical agenda and the socioeconomic appetite influence the confrontational depiction on the silver screen or the plasma screen? Does CGI enhance or devalue the tendency to transcend the dilemma physically, ideological or existentially? Consider the early stop motion techniques of Jason and the Argonauts (skeleton sword attack), War Games (teen hacker), The Hunt for Red October (espionage), or Terminator 2 (apocalyptic dream) for analysis of realism and suspension of disbelief in new battle fronts. Are psychological warfare or cyber-attacks in virtual space the future of wars, drone missions and stealth raids a nascent ploy, or is there still a place for the dog fights and tank ambushes of early combat?