Westworld, a reinvented rendition of the 1973 film of the same name, debuted on the cable television network HBO in October 2016. The ten-episode show surprised many viewers with a new twist on the provocative old tale. The new sci-fi story is set in the near future where an unusual amusement park called Westworld offers rich vacationers opportunities to explore the American West. Robotic, but very human-like "hosts" fulfill the desiring fantasies and cravings of the "guests," no matter how brutal or illicit the acts may be. These androids helplessly indulge and serve the guests as slaves, essentially—whether it be by subjecting themselves to continuous torture, murder, rape or other forms of physical and mental cruelty. Westworld's guests can act without repercussions. While guests can kill, maim or mutilate any of the hosts, the androids cannot injure, much less kill, a guest. As the show evolves, however, some robots begin to learn from their previous builds and try to break free from their scripted "lives." Some hope to find meaning and identity in a programmed world of hate, violence, and self-pleasure.

Through its different representations of women, Westworld surprisingly depicts two contrasting ideologies. It is, first of all, acceptable to abuse women if one knows there will not be consequences for those actions. Even if this was not the filmmakers' intent, these violent images could leave a negative impact on the viewer, causing some to consider, or even replicate, those actions in real life. Yet the series seems, particularly as characters develop, to depict previously suppressed women as free and independent. Like many parts of the contemporary world, this feminist ideal struggles to gain a foothold during the days of the Early American West. Westworld's female hosts are programmed to fit this suppressed pattern and do so until they begin to form their own independent consciousness. These two, polar-opposite ideologies constantly battle against each other throughout the series. Even though it is ultimately up to the audiences' interpretation, this essay will analyze the morality behind these two conflicting ideas.

Before examining these different ideologies, one must first be familiar with the world of Westworld and the characters that live within its dark sphere. Dolores Abernathy (played by Evan Rachel Wood), one of the oldest hosts in the park, is the optimistic and innocent daughter of a dairy farmer who is also deeply in love with the hard-hitting gunslinger, Teddy Flood (played by James Marsden). As Dolores uncovers the mysteries and secrets of her past, she begins to understand the world that she is living in. This new awareness brings conflict, anxiety, and uncertainty that Dolores has never experienced. Maeve Millay (played by Thandie Newton), the African American madam of the Mariposa Saloon in Sweetwater, also starts questioning her reality. She becomes determined to discover and understand the truth behind her existence. In stark contrast to Dolores, Maeve becomes steadfast and confident, developing a plan to be free of the people who have written her "life" for the satisfaction of others.

The clever men behind this theme park include the mysterious Dr. Robert Ford (played by the frequently sinister Anthony Hopkins) and his trusty assistant Bernard Lowe (played by Jeffrey Wright). Ford, being the founder of Westworld, is often manipulative and very protective of his creation. Lowe, on the other hand, is the honest and loyal director of the Programming Division. As he tracks the irregular behaviors and actions of several rogue hosts, he too, recognizes that something is amiss. An unknown guest, called the Man in Black (played by Ed Harris), also contributes complexity to the series by adding mystery and terror to the story. 

The character of Dolores Abernathy personifies most of Westworld's problems. Programmed to be warmhearted, generous, and loving, Dolores is oblivious to the dangers that surround her. Living a mostly secluded life, Dolores' day consists of painting, shopping at the general store, spending time with Teddy, and then arriving back home just in time to see her family brutally murdered by a gang of bandits. Her father and Teddy are not only programmed to protect her at all costs, but to keep her secluded on the ranch. After Teddy's routine check-up, Dr. Ford honestly describes the situation, "Your job is not to protect Dolores, it's to keep her here, to ensure that the guests find her if they want to best the stalwart gunslinger and have their way with his girl." This not only shines light on the sexualization of Dolores, but it also symbolizes the suppressive nature of men throughout history. This male mentality, keeping the woman at home while the strong man provides for her, eventually causes Dolores to abandon some aspects of her conformed existence. Except for the occasional interaction with humans, every day is the same and scripted to perfection. Eventually, her history is erased, and she becomes imprisoned in her own life. It appears that she will always be the victim, but then something clicks and those suppressed memories quickly rise to the surface.

After her family is murdered, Dolores is physically and mentally abused by Harris' Man in Black. She screams as she is being dragged across the dirt to the barn where, ultimately, the shadowy figure will take advantage of her. Rape is implied, but not shown. As a result, the show received some harsh criticism. However, Evan Rachel Wood believes the violence is necessary for character development and for a broader, more important reason.

"It's so we have a place to go to show the motivation of this character—and also a conversation about rape culture and what's acceptable and entertaining and what has become the social norm…If this park really did exist, there really are those people who would come in and do that for fun. I think we're really examining that—not in a gratuitous way, but in a way that really looks at the crime and the pain that's inflicted…It really is there for a reason, to send a message, and for us to take a good hard look in the mirror to understand it more" (Holloway).

Wood uses Dolores' story arc to hint at the bigger picture of rape and assault in modern society. In November 2016, she announced to the press that she herself was raped twice in real life. She stated, "I don't believe we live in a time where people can stay silent any longer…Not given the state our world is in with its blatant bigotry and sexism" (Corinthios). She believes that by depicting sexual violence for what it is, instead of ignoring it or whitewashing it, helps make people aware of this important issue. Dolores' transformation from mechanical android to emotional being also symbolizes this feminist movement. As Wood mentioned in her interview with Variety's Daniel Holloway, "It's all also a metaphor for an awakening that is happening in the world, especially with women." In many ways, Wood is right. It appears that the show is confronting gender roles and sexual stereotypes from within. For example, early in the show it is made clear that Dolores is unable to utilize weapons because of her programming. When Dolores' human lover, William, is ambushed by armed assailants, she surprisingly saves him by viciously shooting them down. After the smoke clears, she says, "You said people come here to change the story of their lives. I imagined a story where I didn't have to be the damsel." In this scene, the gender roles have been switched and Dolores is seen as the resilient protector. Ultimately, by deconstructing these long-standing, sexual stereotypes, Westworld seemingly depicts the awakening of strong female characters.

However, it certainly seems that these enlightening portrayals of sexual violence backfired with some Westworld viewers. A majority of online reviews and critiques damn the usage of sexual violence and nudity on the show, seeing it as excessive and unnecessary. Yet some of these same outlets downplay and hardly ever mention the moral lessons that Wood is striving to have people notice. Some audience members strongly believe the show "encourages male sexual aggression and supports violence against women." This phenomena is called Rape Culture. In Emilie Buchwald's, Transforming a Rape Culture, the author describes it as a "society where violence is seen as sexy and sexuality as violent." This can be seen through various forms of sexual violence including explicit language, inappropriate touching, nonconsensual intimacy, and even rape itself. "A rape culture condones physical and emotional terrorism against women as the norm" (Buchwald xi). This sentiment is reflected within the show, especially when it comes to the brutal actions of the Man in Black.

Maeve Millay, the madam of Sweetwater's brothel, becomes the dark counter-character to the initially demure and innocent Dolores. Maeve holds together what seems to be the most notable institution in the park, the place to where most male visitors gravitate to early in their Westworld experience. In the earliest episodes, particularly, Maeve is not just firm and efficient in the execution of her duties, she seems unphased by the violence and brutality that surrounds her. Salon's media critic, Melanie McFarland, describes Maeve as "an elegant, hard woman who barely blinks when lives are being snuffed out around her…" (McFarland).

Even as the woman-in-charge, Maeve is sexually objectified as much as any other female host on the show, albeit in different ways. Her demeanor and dress announce her position and purpose more clearly than a billboard-sized sign. A corset, a low-cut dress, and accentuated breasts puts the exclamation point on her sexual objectification. Newton has even said in interviews that she finds it more liberating to be naked. "We are comparing the nudity with the other costume…all of these clothes were to invite a lustful feeling" to both the guest and the viewer (Newton). However, it's not just the guests that see her as a sex object. When reviewed by technicians, Maeve's "performance" is sub-par and eventually adjusted. Sexual aggressiveness and seductiveness is increased while civility is decreased.

While the evolution of these main female characters changes the direction of the storyline as one episode tumbles into the next, the exploitation of the characters remains constant, violent, and deadly. Despite whatever positive messages may potentially come from the cautionary tales, McFarland contends, "At the end of the day, though, she's still a woman in Westworld." In her view, the fact that Dolores and Maeve are robots does not justify the violence done to them. "Any efforts to use that argument to excuse the viciousness visited upon them soon feel as hollow and flimsy as an old shell. The viewer is not inured to their suffering by knowing these characters are androids; they act and bleed just like people" (McFarland).

McFarland acknowledges the lessons the series may impart, "Should Westworld's ultimate purpose be to invite some level of self-examination within the audience, making us contemplate the callousness with which we give free rein to violence as sport, well done, then." She remains skeptical though and finds it ironic that even more sex and violence are needed to get the message across. Variety's Chief Television Critic Maureen Ryan comes to a similar conclusion. She believes Westworld tries to teach similar lessons conveyed by other science fiction allegories about identity and consciousness. Unfortunately, Ryan concludes that the negative characterizations and sexual exploitation outweigh any lesson. "The story reinforces and perpetuates the very problems the show purports to identify and explore."

Not surprisingly, similar to Evan Rachel Wood, actress Thandie Newton believes her portrayal of Maeve is noble and constructive. In one interview after another, in both print and on-air, she proudly states her pride in raising awareness about objectification and violence toward women. When asked in an interview in Collider, she explained why she took the part, "I knew that, even though it was going to be challenging to play someone who was farming out women, and who had been programmed to abuse and to allow abuse, I understood that the purpose of it was to have this character fall from grace, even though she was not responsible for the way she was programmed" (Radish). GQ's Joshua Rivera agrees with Newton's take. "There is a truly subversive, feminist-as-hell story tangled in Westworld's many threads, in which the cowboy fantasy is turned on its head and taken over by the women who were placed in servile roles, the docile facilitators of this fantasy" (Rivera). Ultimately, Westworld's struggle to convince their audiences that they are trying to educate rather than gratify remains a challenge.

One of the things that makes the story especially interesting, if not subversive, is the metamorphism the main female characters undergo. Like Dolores, Maeve begins to piece together her storied, previous life. This brings a consciousness of not only those prior experiences but an understanding of how she has been manipulated, both sexually and mentally. What starts as vague notions of the past begins to crystallize into clearer recollections. In a be-careful-what-you-ask-for development, Maeve's reprogramming to be more aggressive pushes her towards a violent reaction when she figures it all out. So intent to both seek revenge and escape from Westworld, she intentionally gets killed over and over again so she can be sent back to the laboratory for reprogramming. These deaths often happened in gruesome, sexual ways. Once, she encouraged a guest to strangle her to death while also allowing him to savagely rape her. In short, Maeve intentionally uses her own sexuality to get what she wants. While in the lab, she tries to learn everything about the technology that makes her tick and the technicians who rebuild her every time she returns. Near the season's end, Maeve turns to the technicians (who think she is off-line) and grabs their programming tablet. She steadfastly declares, "I'd like to make some changes…It's time to write my own fucking story."

Even though these characters are fabricated beings, they are still objectified by the park's guests and can be objectified by the audience themselves. This objectification is usually done through a variety of camera shots and angles. One common complaint among viewers, especially feminists, includes the overwhelming usage of female full-frontal nudity. Feminist Sezin Koehler of Wear Your Voice Magazine calculated the ratios. Ultimately, females were displayed full-frontally twice as many times as men. "By the end of the series, it was almost comical watching all the different ways the Westworld production used chairs, doorknobs, handles, trays, and other objects to protect the men's 'modesty' while almost no allowances were made for the women" (Koehler).

Similar to Dolores and Maeve, some of the other minor female characters are also sexually objectified. Others are not. Maeve's best friend, and fellow prostitute, Clementine, contributes to her own objectification by utilizing flirtatious language and tight, revealing clothing. In the typical American West fashion, she greets newcomers with a pick-up line while simultaneously caressing their face, "You're new. Not much of a rind on you. I'll give you a discount." Through this dialogue and other vulgar language, Clementine has one obvious task—to please as many visitors as possible by being sexually active with them. As a result, she is continually used by men. Similarly, Armistice, an attractive, gun slinging bandit, is also objectified when the Man in Black and his traveling companion gaze at her hourglass figure while she baths in the river. A red snake tattoo curls up and around her body. Even though her body is awed at by male characters and show viewers, her personality is violently strong and wildly independent. She certainly is no damsel in distress. HBO has been criticized before for using nudity, objectification, and rape in their shows. Vogue highlights this in their article, Does Westworld Have a Woman Problem? "Criticized for its reliance on nudity and rape as a plot device, Game of Thrones features female protagonists who provide the show its greatest moments and most of its most regrettable. Westworld follows suit by presenting compelling women and then subjecting them to scenarios that rob them of their dignity" (Okwodu).

The perfect example of objectification in Westworld is undoubtedly the four-minute long orgy that occurred in the fifth episode. In this chapter, Dolores and William are in the violent and cruel city of Pariah. They are invited to the local brothel where a massive orgy is taking place, with at least 40 people participating. Viewers surprisingly watched intimate intercourse, oral sex, male and female masturbation, and other bizarre activities, including gold-painted prostitutes. Of the 22 full-frontal nudities depicted, 86% were female and only 14% were male (Koehler). This grotesque scene ultimately served no purpose and added nothing to the story. However, it did highlight the (already known) cruel and intense personality of Logan, William's future brother-in-law who traveled with him to Westworld. Logan did not come for the adventures, but is instead, obsessed with laying women and killing innocent bystanders. His dark characteristics eventually creep into William's soul, too. In short, this "sexposition" of nude extras desensitized the audience and unnecessarily objectified its participants.

On the other hand, two human female characters, Theresa Cullen and Elsie Hughes, are represented in a different light. Though both are stark contrasts to the hosts in many ways, their characters also have their contradictions. They are independent and stand up to the powerful men who oversee them, yet are sometimes beholden to those same men. They are never seen as blatant sex objects like the hosts, but instead, are depicted as empowered individuals with their own drives and aspirations. Theresa, being the park's senior manager, is well suited to manage and operate this powerful corporation. She has a secret, romantic relationship with her co-worker and subordinate, Bernard. In their scenes together, nudity is non-existent, implying that their sexuality and relationship differs from that which occurs a short distance away in the park. However, when Theresa discovers later that Bernard is actually one of the androids, she discovers she, too, has been used much like the robots she usually controls. Elsie, one of the programmers, also has the same empowering qualities.

Ultimately, both women confront the mysterious and manipulative man, Dr. Ford. As a result, the meticulous scientist orders Bernard to kill them both. This not only prevents the undermining of Dr. Ford's business empire, but stops the women from climbing the corporate leadership ladder. While Ford's insatiable desire for power still might have led to the murder of his co-workers had they been men, it's interesting the writers saw fit to make them women. Even though the show is full of female characters who are all complex and entertaining, one could argue that their stories are often over-shadowed by their male counterparts. The stories of William and Teddy distract from Dolores' transformation. Similarly, Bernard's heartbreaking story overwhelms those of Theresa, Elsie, and even Dolores.

Beyond the complexities of the characters, it is interesting to examine the "genders" behind these artificially constructed beings. In society, gender is a social construction. In the show, gender is not only constructed, but so is the actual being that is embodying that sex. "Though the present-day sex/gender distinction commonly associates sex with biology and gender with mind, depictions of robots and other non-human beings in science fiction have been gendered despite their lack of both a human body and a human mind." This is called "Engenderneering," according to Roy Schwartzman, a professor of Theatre, Speech, and Dance at the University of South Carolina. Dr. Ford is aware that they are not human, but has to constantly remind his workers that they are not. "It doesn't get cold. It doesn't feel shame. It doesn't feel a solitary thing that we haven't told it to," he declared. This construction of gender can have consequences. It can eventually impact how humans intermingle with non-human androids and how humans interact with humans. "Frequently, it serves only to reinforce and reproduce traditional systems of oppression and subordination, particularly those which oppress women" (Elliott).  Westworld is a fine example of this. And as Dolores eerily foreshadows with a line of Shakespeare, "These violent delights have violent ends."    

Westworld is the story of transformation. Through its two diverse representations of women, the show depicts a changing world full of complex characters. Similarly to the real world, women are often abused and taken advantage of, both emotionally and physically. And just like Westworld’s female hosts, women will continue to form their own independent consciousness and take action to build a more peaceful and equitable existence. Westworld may be the real world in microcosm. It is incredibly beautiful and yet can be grotesquely horrid. Perhaps we can all learn something from what Dolores said earlier in the series. "Some people choose to see the ugliness in this world. The disarray. I choose to see the beauty."

Works Cited

Buchwald, Emilie. Transforming a Rape Culture. New York: Milkweed Editions, 2005.
Corinthios, Aurelie. Evan Rachel Wood Reveals She Was Sexually Assaulted Twice: We Can't 'Stay Silent Any Longer'. 28 November 2016.

Elliott, Elise. Engendering Non-Humans in Science Fiction. 17 February 2017.

Holloway, Daniel. 'Westworld' Star Evan Rachel Wood Teases Episode 5 Plot, Tackles Sexual-Violence Criticism. 28 October 2016.

Koehler, Sezin. These Violent Delights Have Misogynistic Ends in HBO's Westworld. 7 December 2016.

McFarland, Melanie. To Be A Woman In "Westworld": HBO’s Brutality Fetish Still Going Strong In Presumptive "Game of Thrones" Successor. 28 September 2016.

Newton, Thandie. CBS This Morning Gayle King. 11 November 2016.

Okwodu, Janelle. Does Westworld Have a Woman Problem? 23 October 2016.

Radish, Christina. 'Westworld': Thandie Newton on the Power of Nudity, Subverting Expectations, and More. 17 October 2016.

Rivera, Joshua. What's Holding Westworld Back? Mysteries. 29 November 2016.

The 1998 film, Pleasantville, delves into some of the most important issues of the 1950s. Director Gary Ross stated, "This movie is about the fact that personal repression gives rise to larger political oppression. That when we're afraid of certain things in ourselves or we're afraid of change, we project those fears on to other things, and a lot of very ugly social situations can develop" (Johnson-Ott). In short, the film isn't just about the personal struggle for change, but the difficult alteration of society as a whole. As we change, society transforms, and so does television. It is a powerful, entertainment machine that influences the way we live and think.

The story begins by following the lives of two contemporary teenagers, David (Toby Maguire) and his twin sister, Jennifer (Reese Witherspoon). During their day at school they learn about several social problems such as the unemployment rate, the HIV virus, and the depletion of the ozone layer. These teens might believe these issues are beyond their control, but soon they will realize that it isn't that difficult to move beyond one's own boundaries.

David is a lone wolf and spends most of his time watching the 1950s sit-com, Pleasantville. Meanwhile, Jennifer is a flirtatious, social butterfly who will do anything for a date with the school's most popular hot shot. On the home front, their parents are in a messy divorce and the kids search for a desperate escape from reality. David eagerly looks forward to the Pleasantville marathon while Jennifer prepares for her date. The two fight over the TV remote and it accidentally breaks. A repairman, portrayed by The Andy Griffith Show co-star Don Knotts, magically comes knocking at the door. He presents them with a special remote. The two teens are suddenly teleported into a different era, one less complicated and a bit more pleasant. They arrive in the black-and-white world of Pleasantville.

David and Jennifer appear as Bud and Mary Sue Parker. In the kitchen, they are greeted by their TV parents, George (William H. Macy) and Betty (Joan Allen). George reads the newspaper and Betty prepares breakfast for the kids. The ginormous feast consisting of pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, ham, and much more is served to them in a ceremonial fashion. The house is stylishly decorated and designed with all of the modern conveniences of the 1950s.

Bud and Mary Sue realize that they must play along until they discover a way to return home. While walking to school they pass freshly cut lawns, white picket fences, identical suburban homes, and stylish vehicles decorated with flamboyant chrome "Gorp." Everything is flawless, clean, and simple. Life is perfect. There are no social problems or disasters of any kind. Everyone is middle-class, healthy, and white. And the basketball team makes every shot!

This phenomena soon changes when Bud and Mary Sue begin to disrupt the community's status quo. Mary Sue introduces sexuality to the town by laying around with her fictional boyfriend. This unusual behavior ultimately causes an endless domino effect of rebellion. To the dismay of many, the furniture store even starts selling double beds, which was quite scandalous for 1950s television. Mary Sue even tells Betty how to properly pleasure herself. This exploration eventually causes the tree in the front yard to catch fire. Since the cat-saving firemen are clueless, Bud has to step up and help them extinguish the blaze.

Bud slowly introduces art and literature into the community. The blank pages magically fill in as he explains the stories to his friends. Classic novels such as Catcher in the Rye, Moby Dick, and Huckleberry Finn are several of the books that are mentioned in the film. This obviously is referring to the strict literature censorship of these books that occurred during the 1950s and 1960s. After altering Pleasantville's universe, color begins to appear. Slowly but surely everything and everyone bursts into vibrant Technicolor. A thunderstorm clashes over the always sunny city and George doesn't receive his dinner. One by one, people change.

The black-and-white traditionalists finally respond with violence and anger after soda jerk Bill Johnson (Jeff Daniels) paints a colorful nude portrait of Betty on his store window. A fuming riot erupts and the place is torn apart. Bud's girlfriend, Margaret, sprints from the chaos with a ripped shirt and frightened face. This undoubtedly symbolizes the race riots of the 1950s and 1960s. The movie, however, doesn't just allude to racial prejudice but to the repression seen in totalitarian societies, too. During the riot, the library is also vandalized and the conformist citizens start torching the books. This situation has a horrifying resemblance to the book burnings conducted by the Nazis throughout the 1930s and 1940s.

Afterwards, the town council passes the Pleasantville Code of Conduct to stop the violence. This law hints back to the Jim Crow Laws and the segregation of African Americans during the Civil Rights Movement. Similarly, Big Bob (J.T. Walsh) and the rest of his conformists want to separate the coloreds from the black-and-whites. This is clearly his motive when he states, "We have to separate out the things that are pleasant from the things that are unpleasant." This discrimination is made clear again by the familiar "No Coloreds" sign.

Bud and Bill revolt against the prejudice by painting a colorful mural on the side of city hall. They are arrested and placed on trial. At the trial, Bud confronts his father George, who is still holding onto his conformist way of life. Bud argues that Betty is still beautiful, even if she is in color. George, just like everyone else, soon accepts and embraces the change. By the end of the film, the entire town of Pleasantville explodes with color and emotion. The transformation is complete.

David started as "a detached, ironic contemporary youth who initially tries to preserve the integrity of Pleasantville, only to learn that nostalgia is not all it's cracked up to be." Meanwhile, Jennifer was a teenage girl who was trying to "build a life out of fashion, sexual encounters, and glib nihilism." This left her with a "yearning for self-esteem and genuine emotional contact" (Johnson-Ott).

George Parker and Big Bob are resilient men shocked by sudden changes, both in the household and in society. Soda jerk Bill Johnson "stands out as a gentle soul with the spirit of an artist buried beneath his passive demeanor." Betty Parker, however, is perhaps the most inspiring character, beginning as the lonely, repressed housewife "who blossoms into passionate individuality" (Johnson-Ott). Ultimately, the film can teach us about alteration, love, and forgiveness. It discusses the important issues of the 1950s while also drawing parallels to how we live in modern America. The common notion is that life was simple in the 1950s, but in reality it was only simple on television. That is the lesson that David carried back with him to 1998. Life is complicated, for better or for worse, so make it count.

The acclaimed movie critic, Robert Ebert, recognized the significance of this film: "Pleasantville, which is one of the year's best and most original films, sneaks up on us. It begins by kidding those old black-and-white sitcoms like Father Knows Best, it continues by pretending to be a sitcom itself, and it ends as a social commentary of surprising power." Elbert concluded, "Pleasantville is the kind of parable that encourages us to re-evaluate the good old days and take a fresh look at the new world we so easily dismiss as decadent. Yes, we have more problems. But also more solutions, more opportunities, and more freedom" (Ebert). As the film's tagline so eloquently notes, the movie proves that "nothing is as simple as black-and-white."

Works Cited
 
Ebert, R. (1998, October 1). Pleasantville. Retrieved from RogerEbert.com.

Johnson-Ott, E. (n.d.). Pleasantville (1998). Retrieved from Internet Movie Database.

Characters in film are often defined or limited by their mental capacities. Regardless of genre, personalities in movies are driven by their abilities to think, react, communicate, and convey emotion. The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) exhibits these factors especially well. Produced by Warner Brothers in the immediate aftermath of the Second World War, the film delved into the triumphs and pitfalls of returning veterans to the home front. This melodrama became the most successful film of the 1940s because of its highly relevant nature to society. 

Nearly sixty years later, a lesser-known production entitled The Machinist (2004) surprisingly enters similar cinematic territory. Focused on an emaciated industrial worker plagued by personal nightmares, the film is a psychological horror in the truest form. At first glance, these two films seemingly share little common ground. However, with closer scrutiny, one can realize that these movies are intimate portrayals of flawed individuals attempting to overcome traumatic moments of their pasts. In examining both the thematic and technical elements of these pictures, audiences and film students may gain not only a higher appreciation of cinema as art, but also a better understanding of the vulnerable human condition. In many instances, when we comprehend film we also gain new insights of society and ourselves. The Best Years of Our Lives and The Machinist reveal these traits in surprisingly creative and evocative ways.

The first manner in which one can analyze these films is to categorize them within the cinematic genres to which they belong. The Best Years of Our Lives is to be considered a melodrama in every way, shape, and form. The film expresses notions found in Physical Melodramas because several of the characters face personal "conditions that repress or control the protagonist's desires and emotions." These types of "physical restrictions may be related to the places and people that surround that person or may simply be a product of the person's" traits (Corrigan, p. 332). The character of Homer Parrish is the embodiment of this persona. As a World War II sailor who lost both of his hands during combat, Parrish is confined to limitations of his disability while constantly worrying about his abilities to find a vocation or provide for his girlfriend. This is equally true of character Fred Derry's difficult readjustment due to his post-traumatic stress problems—compounding dilemmas with his already tense marriage.

This, in turn, also makes The Best Years of Our Lives a Family Melodrama, for it delves into the social and gender frameworks apparent in the postwar era. On one hand, Fred's wife, Marie, became accustomed to her domestic independence in the wake of her husband's wartime absence. This is symbolic of the growing sense of female independence in wartime America as women increasingly joined the work force and enjoyed a new form of liberty. This change causes Fred and Marie's domestic worlds to collide upon his arrival home. On the flip side, the character of Al Stephenson is emblematic of the strong, patriarchal figure of Family Melodramas as he tries to protect his daughter's virtue from the romantic (and married) Fred. In a quickly-changing world, Al attempts to hang onto the family he left behind at the outset of the war.

These alterations in family structure also point out themes of a Social Melodrama within The Best Years of Our Lives. This moment in American History was defined by transition and prosperity. All of the characters in this film are swept into these broader forces of society. The most obvious issue is the readjustment of returning soldiers and sailors to peacetime life. While many veterans started families, moved to the suburbs, bought cars, and made use of the GI Bill, others also suffered from PTSD, alcoholism, poverty, and uncertainty. This film exhibits all of these traits in many ways as the characters attempt to reclaim or remake their lives. 

While The Best Years of Our Lives certainly includes dark elements, but The Machinist takes the darkness to another level. This psychological horror film "locate[s] the dangers and distortions that threaten normal life in the minds of bizarre and deranged individuals" (Corrigan, p. 337). In this case, actor Christian Bale's character of Trevor Reznik has difficulty separating reality from his own nightmares. While the key players in The Best Years of Our Lives certainly have troubled flashbacks, these mental recollections never weaken them to the point of psychological and physical breakdown as one can see in Bale's characterization. Ultimately, both Fred and Trevor are able to release themselves from the horrors of their past even though their characters experience different fates as a result.

The Machinist and its plot are quite complex. This unreliable and reflexive narration tries to fool the audience. Full of complex twists and turns, the movie is a mental game of cat and mouse in which both the character and audience cannot differentiate reality from fantasy. In this sense, The Machinist is an immersive cinematic experience because those watching the film are as baffled as the main character. The movie "calls attention to the narrative point of view in order to subvert its narrative authority" (Corrigan). As a result, the audience must constantly question the plot and narrative. Additionally, the storyline of The Machinist falls within a group "that similarly challenges a traditional humanist understanding of the world, and which suggests, somehow, that human identity is not fixed and/or stable. This group includes films in which characters turn out to be someone other than who they thought they were" (Buckland, p. 68).

The Best Years of Our Lives is a multiple and omniscient narrative for rather simple yet visually stunning reasons. The film falls within the omniscient tone because director William Wyler's directing and cinematographer Greg Tolland's utilization in deep focus shots are so subtle that, in combination with an excellent script, the film almost has a documentary feel. This technique gently captures the multiple perspectives of the film via personal portraits of the characters. The film seemingly is comprised of separate stories, yet all of them are effectively drawn together through Wyler's direction. This mode of filmmaking is quite different from the filmmaking of the pre-World War II era. Therefore, "the stark and often horrific events raised questions about whether the classic narrative formulas of linear plots....could adequately capture the period's far messier and more confusing realities" (Corrigan, p. 220). Thus, The Best Years of Our Lives serves as a prime example of post-classical cinema in its dramatic transformation from the previous method of Hollywood storytelling.

From a historical standpoint, The Best Years of Our Lives follows "the expert discourse of the 'veterans problem,' both in its depiction of the able-bodied and disabled veterans' readjustment difficulties and in its dependence on gendered prescriptions to resolve them" (Gerber, p. 91). In this sense, Homer (himself a machinist's mate) becomes the vessel illustrating "spiritual rehabilitation" and rebirth via his marriage with Wilma. This, in turn, conveys the all-important message of "hope and reconciliation" (Gerber, pp. 70-71). In The Machinist, too, Trevor also finds reconciliation as he turns himself into the police for his hit and run accident. Both Homer and Trevor are able to overcome their physical limitations and release themselves from the invisible chains of their troubled personalities.

There are various ways film can affect the audience's hearts and minds. One way is through the movement of the camera, or cinematography. In The Best Years of Our Lives the sequence shot and the long shot were taken advantage of quite effectively. "This type of filmmaking more closely approximates human perception and is thus more realistic than montage" (Corrigan, p. 113). But, most importantly, the film is praised for its deep focus photography. A fine example of this style of camerawork is when the character Sgt. Al Stephenson comes home and embraces his wife. The camera was placed at the other end of the hallway with their children standing in the frames foreground, watching their father and mother reunite after many years of separation. This "balance indicate[s] restored family harmony" (Corrigan, p. 113) and helps the audience feel the moment. Another example of this deep focus effect is the scene when Fred and Peggy converse at the drugstore counter. In the background, Fred's store manager can be clearly seen peering out his office window. "Because of Wyler's use of deep focus photography, The Best Years of Our Lives contains less than 200 separate shots. The average Hollywood film of the period had 300 to 400 shots per hour" (Miller).

The Machinist, quite similar to many Alfred Hitchcock movies in its tone and Bernard Hermann-like score, uses diluted and colorless cinematography to capture hopelessness. The essence of abandonment and loneliness is conveyed by a grayish-green tinge to add a dreary look to the industrial setting in which Trevor lives. Similar techniques have been implemented in movies such as Saving Private Ryan, Traffic, Saw, and Letters from Iwo Jima to paint the horrid landscapes of war, drugs, and criminals. Thanks to cinematographers Xavi Gimenez and Charlie Jiminez, The Machinist offers a sense of lost hope and depression.

While the two films have many dissimilarities, they both interpret psychological problems while also providing sanctuaries for their main characters. In The Best Years of Our Lives the war torn veterans meet at Butch's Bar several times. This bar allows the characters to gather in fellowship and to grasp reality. In the airport café featured in The Machinist, Trevor treks to this establishment not to get in touch with reality, but to escape it. In this, audiences can also gauge the importance of setting for the sake of character stability and motivation. 

The Best Years of Our Lives and The Machinist reflect different time periods and different styles of filmmaking. That being said, they are both highly artistic representations of the frailty of the human condition, offering us perspectives on both fictional characters and ourselves. Such is the power of cinema.

Works Cited
 
Buckland, W. (2009). Film Theory Goes to the Movies 2.
 
Corrigan, T. (2012). The Film Experience: An Introduction.
 
Gerber, D. A. (2012). Disabled Veterans in History.
 
Miller, F. (2014). The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). From TCM: Turner Classic Movies.