Bullet Train - Fatally Smart-Stupid: A Pristine Typhlodrama
Thoughts On: Bullet Train (2022)
A group of killers and assassins stumble over one another on a train heading to Tokyo.
Incredibly fun, insanely well-structured, paced, and realised with huge action set-pieces, a great cast and a snappy script, Bullet Train is a pristine example of the modern American blockbuster. To better understand what the modern American blockbuster is, and therefore why Bullet Train is so great, we can make a comparison to the modern Indian blockbuster. These are two very similar modes of cinema that blend genres - action, comedy and romance primarily - in various different cinematic settings (the historical, sci-fi mode; the political mode) and varying geographies, to reproduce a commercially--equally or rather so, dependent on your perspective--democratically dictated formula for filmic success. I am not certain what the basis for the Indian blockbuster formula is, but it is something of a discourse in which two halves of a film reflect one another on a common theme; this explains why they are longer than American films, often split by an intermission, and also can feel like two film's smashed into one with the first part occurring in a completely different time and space to the second. This discourse of the Indian blockbuster is broken up on common beats similar to the American blockbuster and organised with action or musical set-pieces, which present spectacle. The American blockbuster is Save The Cat; Blake Snyder breaks it down perfectly - though only because the universality of his structure is vague, and so like a horoscope, it can fit onto anything if you force it. Its saving grace is that the American blockbuster actually tries to fit into it as a result of its culture of screenwriters - or at least it appears so.
I make this comparison between the Indian and American blockbuster to first demonstrate a continuity between them. It is their focus on structure, or formula, that defines them; and, as said, this structure or formula, is an algorithm of sorts reflecting the means through which to access the widest audience possible from their respective locales. Alas, where things get interesting, and where we begin to see the two biggest cinemas in the world begin to illuminate one another, is in their subtle but profound difference: their primary dramatic base.
I see cinema as drama. I do not believe drama is a genre of movies. Drama, the term itself, comes from an ancient Greek word and concept of action that was formulated by Aristotle with his Poetics. We all know what drama means colloquially, but rarely formulate the notion properly when it comes to cinema. To be dramatic, to be about and involved in drama, is to emotionally engage conflict, problems and chaos. We use the term in cinema to describe the kind of films that don't fit into pre-set genres we know, such as action, romance, sci-fi, etc. A great example is The Whale, or Parasite. These films are about characters, their decisions and the chaos it creates. There's not enough violence, futurisms, love, etc, to call them sci-fi or romances. And though they contain common thematic structuring - such as in the case of Parasite with its inflections of the heist, therefore thriller, film - there's nothing explicit or consistent enough within it to easily classify it generically. So, we call these films dramas. But every film is dramatic, every film is a drama, and the classification is pointless in my view.
The term drama, as a generic definition, distracts from a much more interesting aspect of cinema: its ontology, or rather, how it really functions, where it comes from and what it really is. Cinema, stories, are drama; conflict, or action and being over time. We can delve deeper into this, but I have done so in the theory corners of this website plenty. If you look at cinema as fundamentally drama, you can begin to see very fundamental distinctions between the types and tones of films made that, in and of themselves, contribute greatly to your ability to understand them--structurally and in terms of the meaning they are attempting to communicate--as well as enjoy them--for what they are, as a result of anticipating what they are attempting to do. And this brings us back to the Indian and American blockbuster.
Indian blockbusters are built on melodrama. We all know what melodrama is, and so I shouldn't need to explain it much in the context of Indian film (hence why I'm making the comparison in the first place). American blockbusters are built on typhlodrama. You won't know what this is; it's a word I made up. This word compliments and nuances the common notion of melodrama. Melodramas are unrealistic; their action is constructed to produce something like music (hence, melo-, melos, melody). But where melodramas make music out of the reality of action, typhlodramas are slightly blind to the reality of action. Dramatic modes can be distinguished by their manipulation of reality; for this is what all reproductions of action and being do in cinema. Typhlodrama is melodrama's closest sibling, which is why Indian and American blockbusters are actually very similar tonally and structurally; and on the other hand, very distinct from popular European cinemas - the European blockbusters if you'll have it (sadly a double-entendre in the modern day with their not being many big and popular examples of European film nowadays) - that so often brand themselves as art cinema. European, artistic cinemas produce realistic films, projecting life quite like it is, or - and this is where they fascinatingly come closer to American blockbusters - life almost like it is, perturbed and weird. We won't go into this too much, however, for this is where dramatic modes really reveal themselves and get a bit too interesting to discuss shortly.
Melodramas make music out of the reality of action and being. Typhlodramas are slightly (and intentionally) blind to reality; they attempt to make fantasy and the unreal seem plausible. And such is a near-perfect definition of the modern American blockbuster in my view: almost plausible b*llshit; close your eyes to this, and pretend the story is real. Therefore, assuming you can accept certain pre-conditions - like aliens, superheroes and lightsabres existing - the American blockbuster will try to tell a plausible and realistic story based on the fantastical logic. This is exactly why the notion of a plot-hole, the modern notion of verisimilitude in the story context, is so popular among basic-b film nerds. Trained by American cinema and its influence, we often judge films on their realism and logical coherency because this is how they approach their drama. This is also why Indian blockbusters, and also cinemas of Africa, are often made a meme out of and deemed stupid, over-the-top and ridiculous. The only stupidity here though would be the arrogance shielding people from the greater breadths of cinema and what it actually is. The same can be said for the blindness to serious, slow, expressionistic, surreal and artistic cinemas. However, I raise all of this not to criticise or complain, but to praise and explore Bullet Train.
This is a great typhlodrama. Once you accept the pre-conditions of the action, spy movie with all its tropes (organisations of assassins and networks of highly trained killers moving in the shadows of society), this film is all about plot and the screenwriters proving just how smart they are. From the quips to the action to the dramatic set-ups and pay-offs, Bullet Train brilliantly makes plausible and engaging the illusion of its b*llshit world. And in such it not only projects the essence of 'cool cinema', but actually builds a nice discourse around it.
Cool cinema, based on the typholdramatic mode, is all about control. Its tone of awesomeness, slick bravado and benevolent corruption all come from its dictation of fate; which is stereotypically American - a people who we all know live in their famed dream in which anyone can make it anywhere with a bit of will. And fate is exactly what Bullet Train is all about. This is what motivates the action, characters and plot, and it is the control the filmmakers demonstrates over this fate that is precisely what makes the actions, characters and plot cool. Yet there is a dichotomy and conundrum that exists over the notion of controlling fate. Simply put, people are dumb and likely much smaller than fate itself; controlling it may have us appear smart for a period, but will reveal our humanity eventually. And such maps over the tone of the American blockbuster with Bullet Train being our prime example of the moment. As much as this is a smart film, it is stupid as hell; this is what makes it fun and engaging. As said, to buy into all that it does well - the structuring, the action and characterisation - you have the blind yourself to just how ridiculous it all is (being able to fight and bleed for hours, fall hundreds of feet, anticipate and react with lightning speed to the most unlikely of situations, etc). And the humour as well, smart but stupid.
I make a repetition out of this smart-stupid idea to highlight that this is the dichotomy and conundrum of the dramatic mode; it is based off of making the unreal seem plausible and real. It is understanding this that Bullet Train finds its resolution, the Save The Cat moments and its endearing tone: humility. Good American blockbusters, though full of presumption, bravado and noise, often fall into some notion of humility with characters accepting and bending to fate, or the overall logic of the film, to find resolution and balance among all of the drama. Bullet Train does this tremendously, so much so that it is pretty much a textbook modern American blockbuster that lays plain its intentions, tone and place in the greater cinematic landscape. Perhaps you'll then see typhlodrama if you watch this, or American blockbusters alike.
