Team Christine.

Christine Ha, of Houston, TX, is a contestant on FOX's cooking/reality show MasterChef.  For those unaffiliated, MasterChef is hosted by three very qualified and accomplished but also difficult and discriminating chefs - Gordon Ramsay, Graham Elliot and Joe Bastianich - who tour the country in food trucks and audition and hand select 100 amateur chefs to compete for a quarter-million dollars, the title of MasterChef and a cookbook of that chef's favorite recipes.  The first three or so episodes involve the auditions, then an immediate reduction by two-thirds of contestants based on a few quick challenges.  The challenges usually involve properly chopping onions, apples, cooking an entree with ground beef and so on.  At the end of the day, fewer than 20 chefs move on to the normal weekly episodes which involve more typical reality fare - timed cooking challenges, elimination rounds, themed services of two teams to determine who will face going home, etc.

Ordinarily I don't watch cooking shows, and reality shows even less, but Christine fascinates me.  Her Asian-inspired recipes and flavors are consistently eloquent without pretense, confident without arrogance and attractively presented without overexertion or trendy "abstract art" plating.  These are not only clear marks towards making a great chef, but made even more impressive by the two facts that Christine is completely blind - her vision was lost to an immune deficiency disease over a decade ago - and that she receives no help whatsoever with the actual cooking or preparation of her dishes.  While she is seen maybe once per episode being assisted walking around some more confusing locations (rocky terrains, intricately-furnished restaurants or kitchens, etc), or having an assistant grab some ingredients of Christine's choosing from the MasterChef kitchen ("I'll need a stalk of celery, one bunch of cilantro" etc), and sometimes fellow contestants will tell her how other contestants' dishes look ("Ryan just walked his molten lava cake up and it's just soup - it didn't hold together at all"), Christine has consistently prepped, cooked, tasted, plated and served her own dishes entirely herself, to the pleasant surprise of the judges and audience.  One night, a contestant who had won a challenge tried to throw her a curve ball by choosing a live crab for her to kill and cook - "A blind girl and a live crab?  I don't think so," he said - and she rose to the occasion and passed with flying colors.

Ok, but what about special treatment?  As the judges told her at her audition, "We all have obstacles we need to overcome.  You need to understand you'll be judged and treated the same as any other MasterChef contestant - on the taste and presentation of every dish you cook here" - a mantra they have since repeated to an Iraq veteran whose son had drowned and inspired him to compete - and so far they've held up their end of that claim.  In fact two of Christine's most inspiring moments on MasterChef have come from this aspect of the show.  On one episode she had to bake an apple pie and of course couldn't look at the pie crust in the oven to determine its texture.  She instead judged it by touch, the way many backyard grill cooks will judge a steak's wellness by its firmness, and was nervous to the point of tears as she approached the judges.  Gordon Ramsay, world famous for his sharp tongue, scraped the back of a butcher knife along the crust and asked her what it sounded like - it was a crisp, light crust that all three judges determined tasted and felt superb - and told her her biggest obstacle was her confidence.  Secondly, on the aforementioned crab challenge, Christine successfully killed, gutted, cooked and plated the crab in a ceviche for the judges.  Upon tasting it, the judges required some of the other contestants taste the ceviche (specifically the chef who had assigned her the crab) to confirm that not only was she not receiving any favoritism or slack, but she'd managed to make one of the night's finest dishes.  Many of the chefs sheepishly admitted that Christine's ceviche tasted and even looked better than their own.

During another challenge, Christine found herself the head of a team of chefs required to prep and cook 130 breakfast orders for hotel guests in under three hours.  Another female contestant, by the name of Felix, was responsible for the role of expediter - she helped consolidate and arrange the completed cooked food items onto plates, then compile the plates into complete orders and give them to the hotel's service staff to be brought to the guests' rooms.  Christine and her team evenly split up cooking duties - Christine delegated each chef to cook to his or her strengths - and led them by voice alone to a 60/40 vote of victory as determined by the hotel guests' enjoyment of their breakfasts.  Throughout the three hours, Christine consistently reprimanded and corrected Felix for falling silent and breaking down communication when she should have been the most vocal person in the room and earned praise from the judges and the other team for multitasking and leading her team so consistently.  One curious point specifically regarding Christine's sensory disadvantage arose when, as the team ran low on Hollandaise sauce for Eggs Benedict, Felix began drizzling small amounts of the sauce onto the plates and was caught by Ramsay for cheating guests out of the proper dish.  In a side interview, Christine mentioned how frustrating it was that she had trusted Felix to be properly saucing and preparing the dishes and was able to circumvent Christine's leadership and the team's quality of service by, intentionally or not, taking advantage of Christine's inability to visually verify the quality of Felix's plating.

There's a very delicate balance as to why Christine is such an important part of MasterChef.  The inherent, if unspoken, claim of the show is that any home/amateur chef in the country can become "America's next MasterChef," a prestigious title.  You can come from any walk of life and have just as much talent as another person, which is a lesson I do appreciate - you don't have to be the richest person with the most expensive ingredients and tools to create a delicious meal.  However, the problem with anybody at all saying "Anybody can do this or that" can imply a derogatory, non-verbal tag following it.  "Anybody can be the next MasterChef - even _______ people," and that can not only sound discriminatory if taken the wrong way but can seem gimmicky or exploitative on the part of the person in question or the show itself.  Christine's cooking has, by this point at least, proven to most audience members that the judges haven't picked her for ratings.  Many gimmicky tryout chefs - a guy with a monkey, a ventriloquist, etc - didn't pass their auditions, but Christine's flavors and presentations continue to shine.  She also isn't there to fulfill a demographic - I simply don't believe the FOX execs found they were losing "the blind audience" and needed to solve that problem by undeservedly passing through a chef of lesser quality than another.  Christine's personality has also saved her from simply being labeled "that one blind chef."  She's funny, educated, polite, quirky and her cooking has a successful voice of being highlighted - but not defined - by modern and classic light Asian cuisine.

Throughout its three-year run, MasterChef has featured contestants from all walks of life.  The contestants' diversities in age, gender, ethnicity, vocations, sexual identity, cooking styles, personalities and more have come to back up the show's claim that the culinary arts know no discrimination beyond what ends up on the plate.  I don't want Christine to win MasterChef because of her disadvantage - if for any reason she's unable to meet the same requirements set for the other contestants, she should fairly and indiscriminately find herself at the end of her time on the show just as the others to depart before her have as well.  As always, I want the best chef to come out on top this year.  If that "best chef" is Christine, however, I'll not only be in utter awe but confident through the evidence I've seen in earlier episodes that her win is based on the merit of her cooking, not given to her with special consideration for being blind.

I personally hope that the quality of her dishes, in flavor and presentation, continue to meet the standards she's set for herself this far in the competition.  I like her personality, her ideas in the kitchen and her well-wishing of all the contestants.  She realizes that the show should be about culinary Darwinism, not favoritism, and has been a strong and competent chef.  What's not to like?  I'm Jonny Lupsha and I'm on Team Christine.

Fixing "Found Footage."

It’s been 13 years since The Blair Witch Project exploded onto screens nationwide and revitalized the “Found Footage” genre – Cannibal Holocaust being the last notable effort, unless you count the incredibly bleak Michael Keaton drama My Life.  Since Blair Witch, Hollywood has been producing several Found Footage movies, from the Paranormal Activity series to this year’s Chronicle, and I admit I’m a big fan of the genre.  However, I’ve noticed several questionable elements within the genre that end up pulling me out of every Found Footage experience, and if their screenwriters don’t fix these problems, they could find their genre as dead as most of their characters end up.  So I compiled a list of known issues with the genre and paired them with solutions.

Being in the Right Place at the Right Time

Case #1:  In 2008’s Cloverfield – one of my favorite found footage movies – the number one lagging issue I had was that the characters seemed to be constantly running into this enormous awesome creature that destroys everything in its path and then escaping, mostly without a scratch.  If Clover is supposed to be such a wicked beast that can’t be stopped with thousands of rounds of ammo, dozens of rockets and an air strike or two, what are the odds he can’t sweep four twentysomethings off the street the first three times he sees them?

Solution:  Cloverfield’s crew created a decent response to this problem, though it wasn’t utilized as fully as it could have been.  The first couple Clover sightings in the film are on television, with the main characters catching glimpses from news helicopters broadcasting live on the scene.  Not only did this anchor the story and lend to its “mass phenomenon” scope, but it also led to one of the most surreal moments in the film.  Hud, the “cameraman” for most of the movie, is in an electronics store being looted and he turns to see a dozen looters, electronics in hand, all stopped and staring at a tv as though they were witnessing the Second Coming of Christ.  Unfortunately, I felt more opportunities like this awaited in the second and third acts of Cloverfield but the flimmakers instead opted to stick with Rob’s handycam, held by Hud, and I kept asking myself “Oh, what are the odds our characters would just be right there every time something major happened, then escape unscathed?”  Besides a token death or two, it was just a bit coincidental that they’d capture all that footage on the same camera.

Case #2:  In 2012’s Chronicle, three teenagers find themselves suddenly endowed with telekinesis and all of its responsibilities.  In the final 10 minutes of the film, a flying fight scene worthy of a Superman comic ensues across the city of Seattle and the digital camera that has captured most of the movie is left behind.  Despite this, we end up with a complete viewing of this titanic brawl.

Solution:  about 99% of Chronicle is shot believably.  When things start to enlarge in scope in the movie’s third act, Chronicle opts to add footage in from gas station and hospital security cameras, police dashboard cameras and street traffic cameras.  This works great for the most part, and I’ve always wondered why more filmmakers haven’t done the same.  There are still a couple shots, however, that seem obviously filmed for a movie instead of the “real” footage that comprises the rest of the picture.

Put the Camera Down and Run

Case:  This is the golden question: Why are you still filming this?  Drop the camera and run; there are monsters/ghosts/witches/supervillains after us!  I think it’s the number one question asked by all found footage moviegoers, and usually a character offers up a weak excuse in response.  In Cloverfield, Hud says “I think people will want to know how it all went down.”  Sure, but there are scenes in Cloverfield in which I think anyone would say “Screw the camera; I’m out of here.”  Heather in Blair Witch and Andrew in Chronicle both take on the persona of feeling more comfortable behind the camera than facing their struggles straight-on, which is fine and believable, but still sounds a little thin.  I don’t even believe when I hear a found footage character say “I have to document this,” despite knowing people who do insist on filming basically everything they do.

Solution:  The cynic in all of us knows how much rare film footage is worth to a news station.  Whether it’s the film of the Twin Towers falling or proof of Bigfoot, and despite our real motivations ahead of time for wanting to capture something terrible on film, I don’t think it’s a stretch to want to film a phenomenon for the later hope of selling the footage to CNN or the BBC.  Whenever a character says to a found footage camera operator, “Why are you filming all this?  Put down the camera,” my immediate response would be “Are you kidding?  Do you know how much (insert news network here) would pay for this?”  It may not be as honorable as a defense mechanism or unspeakable need to have everything on tape, but it sounds more realistic to me.

So Who Found this Footage? (Contains Spoilers for Apollo 18)

Case:  Apollo 18.  In theory, I loved the idea of found footage on the moon in the ‘70s.  Since everyone has GPS and cell phones these days, the “lonely cabin in the woods” scenario is getting harder to sell, so putting it on the moon before all that tech sounded like a brilliant setup.  Unfortunately, near the end of Apollo 18, both NASA spaceships transmitting the perils of its crew collide and are blown to smithereens.  I’m aware that Apollo 13’s astronauts managed to broadcast the first part of their voyage live to Earth, but given the rest of Apollo 18’s tone – of communications regularly going out and the crew having to constantly update Houston on their situation – I don’t see how the two can match each other.  Either the communications don’t go out and they’re able to broadcast that footage, or they stick with the comms problems and come up with a better ending for how it got out.

Solution:   The first tagline for Blair Witch was something along the lines of “In October 1994, three film students disappeared in the woods of Maryland while filming a documentary.  A year later, their footage was found.”  Creepy, and maybe unlikely, but given Blair Witch’s utter lack of special effects and anything supernatural actually appearing on-screen, it lends to the realism for some unnamed citizen to have just discovered the film reels and tapes, taken them back to civilization and watched them.  Also, Cloverfield literally opens with an identifying stamp in the first few seconds, which is all official-looking.  Property of the Department of Defense, video footage of subject “Cloverfield” found in the area formerly known as Central Park, etc.  I can believe that footage was found.

ShakyCam

Case:  The Blair Witch Project suffers considerably from blurry, shaky shots of trees or dirt as the main characters run at top speed from some supernatural force.  I’m thrilled that The Witch is never actually shown, so I don’t mind not seeing that, but my wife won’t go to found footage films because they give her motion sickness.  Even Cloverfield is directed so characters hold the camera while doing things like falling down sets of stairs, walking and sprinting through unlit subway tunnels and even being attacked or eaten by the monsters.  I can appreciate that studios aim for realistic “regular, non-cameramen holding the cameras” shots, but cameras have had gyroscopic image stabilizers for about 20 years now; can’t we get some for these movies?

Solution:  Paranormal Activity 2 is filmed entirely in one family’s house, and mostly from the perspective of a set of security cameras they have installed after a break-in at the beginning of the movie.  Very clever.  Also, in Chronicle, Andrew learns to finesse his telekinesis throughout the film, one of the first tricks of his being to glide the camera slowly and smoothly around the room as he films his journey.  Both instances make for a much easier to watch adventure in found footage.

The Scooby-Doo Mystery

Case:  In the Paranormal Activity series, a series of people are haunted by poltergeists throughout the film.  The problem is that with the first two Paranormal Activity movies, one of the characters ends up researching the phenomenon online and finding out some strange information about a similar case happening to someone else.  Before you know it, the focus on the terrifying events of the film are cast aside in favor of solving the mystery of the vengeful spirit who has been wronged, and how the characters can appease them.  This extends to many horror films nowadays, but the list of how to fix modern horror is too long for one post.

Solution:  Nobody in Cloverfield has any answers regarding Clover’s origins, only that the first incident was reported at sea, followed by the beheading of the Statue of Liberty and Clover terrorizing Manhattan.  The tape that Cloverfield is allegedly shot on is mostly filmed over two characters’ day at Coney Island, as is interspersed for a second or two throughout the film to heighten emotions.  At the very end of the final shot, in the corner of the screen, the viewer can just barely make out an egg-shaped pod crash-landing from the sky (probably outer space) into the ocean.  It manages to maintain the origin mystery for those of us who don’t notice every detail, but gives a basic and satisfactory answer to the question of “Where did this beast come from and why didn’t anyone notice it before it was 200 feet tall?” to the skeptics.  Similary, the Blair Witch is presented as a local urban legend or piece of New England folklore, and this ties in with the very end of the film, but without giving the characters a ridiculous quest to embark on or a need to satisfy to appease the monster.

Found Footage is like any other genre of movies: it has its triumphs and its lemons.  But if filmmakers want it to be taken seriously and as a legitimate subgenre of cinema, they need to start – or continue – addressing some of the pitfalls their audiences dislike so much.  Otherwise the genre itself is destined to become its own cliché setup – just some random footage collecting dust in the middle of nowhere found in the future by one movie fan to dust off and try to present to the world as remotely believable.