Getting High With Concept

Or… the Tyranny of Michael Bay

Let’s get a bit deeper with when and where we encounter High Concept. Maybe we’ll even finally find a couple that don’t suck. Sorry, Michael Bay.

You may notice that a disproportionate number of High Concept films have science fiction or fantasy elements.

It’s possible to have a High Concept drama, such as The Fly by David Cronenberg, The Trial by Orson Welles, or Eyes Wide Shut by Stanley Kubrick.

It’s possible to have a High Concept romantic comedy, such as Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind by Michel Gondry and Charlie Kaufman.

It’s possible to have a High Concept thriller, such as Primer by Shane Carruth, or a High Concept horror, such as the original Alien by Ridley Scott, or a High Concept war movie, such as Aliens by James Cameron.

Still, looking back at this list, we see that in almost every case there is some element of the fantastical to actually ensure that the concept is “High” enough.

Science fiction, by its very nature, talks about the fantastical. It introduces interesting ideas, but the stories behind those ideas aren’t necessarily particularly interesting. Ultimately, we are intrigued by how the concept itself will be executed.

Even Spike Jonze’s Her, which is a very calm, kind, sweet film, is high concept. After all, it’s about a man who falls in love with a computer. That concept is intriguing, but it could be dealt with very poorly (cf. Simone with Al Pacino).

How are Spike et al. going to deal with this problem? It’s a fine balance and with a movie like this I’ll be watching through the slits in my fingers until the beginning of the second act. In short, assuming that it’s going to be executed miserably.

Let’s look at some examples:

The Fly

(1986, David Cronenberg)

A scientist experimenting with a teleportation device accidentally fuses himself with a fly.

Yup. Science fiction. Quelle surprise.

So… some dude fuses himself with a fly. How are we going to watch ninety minutes of this? How is this story going to unfold? It actually begs some interesting questions.

That’s exactly what encourages people to listen for more.

Example:

The Matrix

(1999, the Wachowski Sisters)

A hacker discovers that what we perceive as reality is actually an enormous computer program.

So this is the high concept part of the pitch: reality is actually an enormous computer program.

How is that possible? How is this going to unfold? What are we going to do with this idea?

Idiocracy

(2006, Mike Judge)

A perfectly average man is frozen and thawed out 500 years in the future only to discover that he is now that smartest man on earth.

What could happen to this man, who has a perfectly average IQ, who has a perfectly average job, who now discovers that he’s the smartest man on earth? How is this going to play out?

Now that the obvious joke is out of the way, it does beg a lot of questions. How will a man in this unique, unenviable position find a way to live a stable, happy life?

Humpday

(2009, Lynn Shelton)

On a dare, two straight male friends agree to have sex with one another and film the act.

OK—this is pretty intense. Here we have two heterosexual men who agree to have homosexual sex for what seems like a trivial reason (it ain’t exactly Deliverance, kids).

How will these men deal with their decision? How is this going to affect their lives and their relationships? How could they possibly have found themselves in this situation in the first place?

It’s exactly these questions that make people want to learn more.

Blade Runner

(1982, Ridley Scott)

Four murderous androids indistinguishable from human beings are on the loose and one cynical cop, lured out of retirement, must take them down.

What? How is this guy going to be able to tell what’s a robot and what’s a human being?

Exactly.

That’s what I want to find out. That’s why I’ll read the script.

Obviously there’s a ton more to Blade Runner, or to any of these movies. Nevertheless, this is just the basic idea. Let’s think about what the fundamental thing is that makes people interested in it.

Total Recall

(1991, Paul Verhoeven)

A man pays to have memories of a vacation never taken implanted in his brain – or did he?

It’s easy to remember all the stuff where Doug Quaid goes to Mars and has his big socialist revolutionary adventure, but the core concept is that he has paid to have memories of a vacation implanted.

That alone is a genius move: we’re never sure, as we watch, whether Arnold is truly experiencing reality—or is he living out an implanted fantasy?

Genre and Concept

Ya think?

It’s probably fairly clear by this point that High Concept films tend to be genre films. Science fiction is of course a big one, but any genre could work.

Whether romance, thriller, horror, or any other genre, the simple fact that a film is immediately identifiable as a certain genre lends it to neat, tight conceptual packaging.

High Concept is nothing if not tight conceptual packaging.

rowan