In addition to the standard course requirements for Intro to Film and Critical Approaches to Cinema, my honors students must complete two essay projects: one formalist, one ideological (on onscreen representations of gender, sexuality, race, or class). For the Formalist Critique, due next Friday, students are asked to:
- select and screen one of their favorite films, which they also own on DVD
- submit a thesis statement via email that explains the overall argument of the essay
- submit a brief via email that details the major sections of the essay (full intro and thesis, sections/reasons, key pieces of evidence). A separate handout explains the brief in full.
- write a 4-6-page essay that demonstrates how THREE stylistic elements in the first five minutes of their film affect the meaning and impact of the entire work. In other words, students should ask themselves how the mise-en-scène, cinematography, editing, and/or sound in the film’s beginning prepare them for the remainder of the picture. At least two full paragraphs should be devoted to each element. To achieve this, students will obviously need to view the entire film.
As is typically the case, the Fall 2010 honors students have selected a wide range of films that represents both their cinematic and personal interests: He’s Just Not That Into You, American Beauty, Men Who Stare at Goats, (500) Days of Summer, Return of the King, Fried Green Tomatoes, There Will Be Blood, 300, The Believer, and Requiem for a Dream. At this point, I have seen all of the students’ thesis statements and briefs, and will report that the thesis statements were solid overall: arguable, able to be supported with evidence from the films, and clearly stated. The introductions, on the other hand…well. In short, it’s when the students begin to craft their introductions that things usually go awry, e.g., their quotes are not integrated properly, most sentences contain nothing but fluff, there is no flow or clear organization from one statement to the next. NOTE: This happens EVERY semester, not just with my current (great, hard-working!) honors students.
I blame some of these problems on high-school writing “rules,” e.g., don’t employ first person, search only for secondary sources that support (rather than refute) your argument, five-paragraph essays are the norm. But mostly I’ve found that writing an introduction for an academic essay proves difficult for my students because ostensibly they are not taught that academic writing “calls upon writers not simply to express their ideas, but to do so as a response to what others have said” (They Say, I Say: The Moves That Matter in Academic Writing). In other words, most of my students, whether honors or otherwise, are seemingly never taught that with argumentative essays, they need to “enter a conversation,” using what other people say as a springboard for their own ideas/thesis.
I explain this concept of “entering a conversation” on the sample briefs, but it still usually takes roughly 3-6 drafts, which the students and I rework together, before they completely grasp the concept. At this point, most of my students have revised their introductions to something with which we’re both pleased, so I thought I’d post a few of them below. As they’ve discovered through frustrating emails, multiple drafts, and my relentless prodding (!), academic writing can be hard work, and it takes practice to learn the craft. Still, as these intros suggest, the process is worth it in the end. I just hope my students feel the same way after they submit their final drafts! (NOTE: A couple of the intros are still “in progress.”)
American Beauty

About American Beauty (Sam Mendes, 1999), Roger Ebert writes: “The movie is about a man who fears growing older, losing the hope of true love and not being respected by those who know him best.” (par. 2). Indeed, Kevin Spacey’s Lester Burnham feels unloved and disrespected by his family. For example, he confides to the viewer, “Both my wife and daughter think I’m this gigantic loser. And they’re right.” As well, Lester informs us that his “highpoint of the day” will consist of “jerking off in the shower”; after that, he claims, “It’s all downhill.” This reversal of a typical, happy suburban family conveys how apathy and social expectations have ruined Lester’s American dream. We see this mindset not only throughout the bulk of the film, but even in the first five minutes. Specifically, through voice-over narration, strong establishing shots, and flash-forward editing, Sam Mendes communicates a story about a man whose dreams of happiness are unfulfilled because of social expectations and, as Ebert points out, because his family no longer values him as a father or a husband. It is these aspects of the film that this essay will consider.
The Men Who Stare at Goats
“It’s hard to resist a satire, even when it wobbles, that insists the most unbelievable parts are the most true” (Rolling Stone par. 1). This is Peter Travers’s overarching view of Grant Heslov’s satire, The Men Who Stare at Goats (2009). Travers is correct here; after all, Goats‘ opening title card, which reads “More of this is real than you would believe,” humorously teases the viewer that some of the film’s most “unbelievable parts” will, in fact, offer the most truth. We experience this specifically via Bill Wilson’s (Ewan McGregor) interview of a ex “psy-ops” soldier, when Wilson’s life spirals out of control, and as eccentric General Hopgood (insert name) runs into walls — all far-fetched actions that actually represent ___, ___, and ___, respectively. But again, it is the film’s opening — specifically its setting, camera movements and angles, dialogue, effects, and ambient noise — that sets the foundation for an unbelievably realistic satire.
Fried Green Tomatoes
About Kathy Bates’s character (Evelyn Couch) in Fried Green Tomatoes (Avnet 1991), Roger Ebert writes, “[She's] dowdy, unhappily married, [and] dripping with low self-esteem” (par. ??). True, Evelyn possesses these negative qualities (and more) throughout much of the narrative. However, when she meets Ninny (Jessica Tandy), a feisty old lady who narrates an engaging story about two southern women in the 1930s, Evelyn changes her ways, ultimately discovering that her unhappiness stems from her conformity to traditional southern societal pressures (e.g., list suffocating pressures here and here). Specifically, by taking inspiration from Ninny’s story, Evelyn undergoes a transformation from a housewife who seeks validation through her marriage to her husband Ed (Gailard Sartain) to a confident, assertive working woman. Although much of this modification takes place near the end of the film, the props, dialogue, and flashbacks in the first five minutes of Fried Green Tomatoes set up Evelyn’s subdued sense of self as well as her longing and curiosity for self-confidence and self-expression. It is these aspects of the Fried Green Tomatoes that I’d like to consider.
Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King
Roger Ebert claims that audience members who haven’t seen the first two Lord of the Rings films (Peter Jackson, 2001, 2002) will likely “be adrift during the early passages of [the third] film’s 200 minutes.” But then again, Ebert continues, “to be adrift occasionally during this nine-hour saga comes with the territory” (par. 3). I understand why Ebert would make this claim; after all, uninformed viewers would potentially be lost during Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003) as ____, ____, and ____. However, this third installment opens with a flashback intended to familiarize new spectators about what happened in the previous two films. Within these five minutes, the audience discovers how Gollum (Andy Serkis) came to be corrupt and that the Ring he finds is a destructive power. Additionally here, the film’s seemingly happy tone violently changes after Gollum’s murder of his friend and uncovering of the Ring. The viewer, therefore, will not necessarily be “adrift,” as Ebert claims, since the lighting, setting, [list specific editing techniques and specific types of sound] in the opening of The Return of the King show the lighter, more peaceful world before the ring, compared to the darker, more sinister world after the ring.
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- Teaching Carnival 4.3 - ProfHacker - The Chronicle of Higher Education - [...] Kelli Marshall shares a film studies writing assignment in Entering a Conversation, Teaching the Academic Essay. [...]
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Hi Kelli,
I teach film and Advanced Placement literature at the high school level, so I can sympathize with dealing with some of the problems that probably began on the previous rung of the writing ladder (I can't tell you how many times I've had to tell kids not to start their papers with a question. Or a dictionary definition. Or, etc.). I can't speak for every high school, but my guess is why you see so few students write papers in which they frame their ideas "as a response to what others have said" is that they're only asked what THEY think on most assignments.
Most literature (and my film) essay assignments call on the student to analyze the novel/poem/film, but don't require outside research. This is partly because that's what AP exams require (you read a passage, you write an analytical essay), partly because I do worry a bit about discouraging original ideas if they're always looking for what someone else said, and partly because that's how I (and our whole English department) have always done it. Until I picked up the "They Say, I Say" book last year, I never really questioned the wisdom of that approach. We're in the midst of reviewing our entire curriculum this year, so everything is on the table — I'm the chair of our department, and I'll definitely refer to this blog post when we're talking about preparing kids for the college writing environment.
Hi, Tim — thanks for commenting. Ohhhhh, the "dictionary-definition beginning" drives me crazy as well! So glad to know you're eliminating that from your students' papers! =)
I probably should've written that my high-school experience consisted of AP English classes as well. Loved them! In fact, my senior-level English class/teacher is one reason I'm in the profession I am. My AP experience, however, differs from the one you describe. We were required to seek out sources to support our points, at least 6-8, if I remember correctly. We had library research days, extensive note cards designated for secondary sources, several rewriting sessions, etc.; but I recall learning very little about how to integrate the sources properly — or how to "enter a conversation," for that matter. It makes sense that high-school teachers aren't teaching those techniques, since many of them, from what I understand, are encouraged to "teach to the test."
I'll be anxious to hear how your committee adapts your English curriculum, if at all. Please report back, if/when you get a chance. And again, thanks for your comments!
Just checked out your film syllabus and am LOVING that you teach DOUBLE INDEMNITY, one of my Top Ten favorite films! You can see how much I love it here, if interested: http://kellimarshall.net/unmuzzledthoughts/teachi…
More importantly though: do your students like it? What are their thoughts after watching DOUBLE INDEMNITY and analyzing it in the context of film noir? (Ahh, how could they not like it?!)
My students usually do end up liking Double Indemnity, although many of them qualify it with the "you know, for a black-and-white movie" dismissal that makes me want to bang my head against the wall. Most of them don't get as big a kick out of the dialogue as I do, but I think they like the overall sleaziness of the film, and Walter Neff's method of lighting matches is universally decreed by teenage boys to be awesome. Studying it in the context of noir helps a little, I think (we watch the American Cinema episode on noir to kick off the unit), because they're looking for noir signifiers like pervasive low-key lighting, Venetian blinds, voiceover narration/flashback structure, etc.
Your analysis of the sexiness of the film was spot-on, I think, but it's remarkable how quickly the spark disappears, isn't it? When I'm teaching it I always quote a line that I saw somewhere that I wish I came up with: The real love story in the film isn't between Walter and Phyllis, but Walter and Keyes. That relationship gives the film an emotional underpinning that sustains it after the murder plot starts to unravel, and leads to one of my favorite final scenes ever. I can see why Wilder decided not to end the film with Neff going to the gas chamber.
BTW, I really enjoy following your Twitter feed (I found it through a Self-Styled Siren retweet) — there aren't a whole lot of other high school film teachers out there, so I'm pretending college professors are my colleagues
You stop well short of saying anything like, "…and I shouldn't have to be teaching these things in a film class"—which I often hear attending discussions of content-course students' struggles with the academic essay.
But maybe it's worth elucidating here: Where do you think students should get the kind of instruction you're talking about? I've heard arguments that nobody should pass composition without being able to write the sort of essay you're describing; on the other side, I've heard the composition classroom described as a sort of freeform critical-thinking and writing-skills boot camp, not too strictly tied to any specific genre of writing but geared towards producing generally adaptable writers. And I suppose the middle position would be that the ability to write a scholarly essay begins in the composition classroom but continues through work in specific disciplines. (I'll confess I'm pretty well sold on the moderate view.)
What do you think?
Hey, Devan!
I've come to the realization that I will probably always HAVE to "teach these things in a film class." That doesn't bother me so much, especially since many of my students are freshman and are likely taking freshman comp alongside my introductory film class.
I teach these techniques in film, literature, and composition classes; heck, I've even reiterated them in a grad-level film course! To answer your question though, I do think that students should learn how to write academic essays in freshman- and sophomore-level composition classes (if not ALSO in their final year of high school). While being "an adaptable writer," as you say, is important, at least one type of writing style that should be taught to students — and perhaps encouraged more than others — is the academic/argumentative style. After all, as you know, it is beneficial for reasons other than just "fulfilling an assignment." It teaches students how to debate successfully, how to frame an argument so that all sides are considered, how to avoid fallacies, etc. In short, this sort of writing style teaches students to THINK CRITICALLY. For that reason alone, it should be stressed in higher education, right?
Thanks for the thoughtful answer Kelli! I haven't much to add beyond agreement with much of what you say. When I teach film for example, the students' writing is a central point of evaluation, particular in gen. ed. courses. (In fact, I think I taught it last time without any quizzes or tests.) And of course in composition, I do try to get my students comfortable with the academic essay—and with those of its conventions that also appear outside the genre.
My only lurking fear—and the reason I buy in to the "adaptable writers" model—has been that what I and others so comfortably call "the" academic essay really belongs only to a few of the humanities. I know when I would have, say, art history students in the graduate film classes I took, I would barely recognize the work they did, which read (at times) more like catalogs for museum exhibitions. I'm not sure if that just means it's somehow lousy as art history, but such was my experience.
And that's just the other humanities. It's always a bit sad to try to convince a biology major that she must avoid the passive voice in my class, while also acknowledging that she'll have to return to it for her next lab report. Though there are surely commonalities across all (or most) disciplines, mostly on the level that you address in your post, I do try to make clear to my students that I'm not necessarily teaching them a set of conventions that will be perfect for them in their major.