Exploring FILM 116: a grad student’s cinematic side quest

Micah J. Marrapodi

Arts & Entertainment Editor

As an English MA student, I focus primarily on literature. However, while completing my final thesis this semester, I decided to take an academic side quest. A burgeoning cinephile and future doctoral student of narrative media, I enrolled in Dr. Kevin Esch’s FILM 116: Intro to Film — a proper introduction to the medium I hope to study. Five weeks in, my approach to cinema has already changed.

This change reflects Dr. Esch’s desire for the course. “I want students to come away from the course with better eyes,” he replied when I reached out for a comment. “I hope they will watch films more deeply and with greater appreciation for the variety of ways films make meaning.”

Photo by Callan Maytum

Each week, alongside selected readings from “Film Art: An Introduction,” we watch a film tied to that week’s topic. In fact, with Spring Break around the corner, our class has already watched four movies, each connected to distinct cinematic lessons.

I asked Dr. Esch why he chooses the movies he does. “I choose our films primarily to advance discussion of the different tools filmmakers use (cinematography, editing, etc.),” he answered. “I also work to include a range of voices and perspectives in our films.”

“Singin’ in the Rain” (1952)

Directed by Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen, “Singin’ in the Rain” was the first film our class viewed. And what a perfect introduction it was. Epitomizing metacinema — filmmaking that reflects on its own creation — the 1952 classic explores Hollywood’s transition from silent films to talkies.

Accompanying our reading, which focused on film as an art and as a business, the metacinematic quality of “Singin’ in the Rain” provided a narrative glance behind the scenes, telling a story about Don Lockwood and cinematic storytelling simultaneously. This was especially clear when Lockwood wooed Kathy Selden in Monumental Pictures’ studio, using the lot’s lights, wind machines, and backdrops to manufacture a romantic moment — a character directing cinema in real time.

“Children of Men” (2006)

Directed by Alfonso Cuarón, “Children of Men” depicts a dystopian near-future which, though set in the UK, remains eerily relevant given the icy season in the US. Themes aside, the movie’s primary feature is its cinematography — literally, “writing in movement,” as the textbook puts it —  the focus of our reading that week.

Cuarón’s breathtaking long takes instilled uneasiness, reinforcing the movie’s dystopian stakes. This was clearest in a single-take sequence, wherein, over four minutes, five characters in a car are ambushed by a band of resistance fighters.

“Double Indemnity” (1944)

Billy Wilder’s “Double Indemnity” is a classic film noir, with lighting that carves the frame into extreme darks and lights — chiaroscuro — casting long shadows behind Walter Neff, an insurance agent who commits murder for what he believes is love, but is really lustful limerence.

Though our previous reading focused on how we see a shot rather than what we see in it, our viewing of “Double Indemnity” was complemented by reading about mise-en-scene, defined in our textbook as “the arrangement of people, places, and objects to be filmed.” Beyond shadow, the film plays with other doubling arrangements like mirror reflections and dialogic double entendres. For instance, when Walter first meets Phyllis, she had just been sunbathing, and he remarks “I’d hate to think of you having a smashed fender or something while you’re not… fully covered.”

“Moonlight” (2016)

Barry Jenkins’ “Moonlight” charts Chiron’s journey from boy to man across a triptych structure, using intimate cinematography and lush mise-en-scene to immerse viewers in his inner life.

Set in Miami, Chiron’s early life is characterized by poverty, drug abuse, and parental neglect. A double-edged sword, Jenkins’ cinematography captures both Chiron’s suffering and Miami’s natural beauty — a juxtaposition that deepens the film’s emotional impact. Through Chiron’s eyes, Jenkins deploys POV shots to place viewers inside moments of both violence and tenderness — the camera itself becoming an instrument of empathy as Chiron endeavors to heal his inner child.

Concluding thoughts: 

I loved these movies, but I want to stress: I appreciated them more now than I would have before taking this course. Coming from a philosophical and literary analysis background, I could always grasp a film’s themes and narrative — but studying filmmaking as a distinct narrative medium revealed just how much more cinema has to offer.

As Dr. Esch put it: “Analyzing film differs from analyzing literature because of the greater range of tools filmmakers are working with — you need to attend to dialogue and performance, but also camerawork, editing, music, staging, etc. I've watched some of our films dozens of times now, and I'm still seeing new details every time.”

That’s the beauty of studying a narrative medium on its own terms. It gives you better eyes — eyes to see that all films, even those you’ve already seen, contain multitudes.