
#Warshift trainer 1.43 movie#
Unfortunately, the movie has decided not to help me in that regard.
#Warshift trainer 1.43 driver#
Since I’m writing a post that will involve these two guys fairly heavily, I would like to be able to refer to them both by name, rather than Harry and driver cop. I don’t really have a point to make about that, it’s just that I noticed it and now I can’t think about anything else, and I want to pass that burden on to you.

The partner, Harry, is pretending that he’s leaning on something, but then the driver motions him to hop in, and Harry just walks through the empty space and sits down in the seat, looking expectant and making no move to shut the car door, which does not exist. Spotting Otis, the driver cop directs his partner’s attention to the public enemy across the way. So that brings us to the plainclothesmen of the moment, sitting in their car which as far as I can tell does not actually have a door on the passenger side. The cue bridges this moment of transition between comedy and something more sinister, starting with the chirpy tuba line that fades after four bars, until all you hear is the quickened heartbeat-pulse of the strings section.

Over that, a cheerful tuba plays a sprightly melody line, in keeping with Otis’ jaunty straw hat and slightly waddling gait. The track mainly involves a nervous-sounding string section making an insistent four-four beat that cycles through various stages of agitation. This scene is the introduction of the final major motif in John Williams’ soundtrack: a march known as the Villains motif. The music cue is giving us conflicting feedback, as well.

In the shot pictured above, the camera is positioned behind the red dome light on the police car, which obscures our view of Otis’ progress down the sidewalk. A car passes by, while one of the cops is pointing at Otis across the street. People cross right in front of the camera, even when a character is speaking. The signs on the stores are more aggressive, and the guys aren’t all wearing suit jackets, like they were a few minutes ago.Īlso, stuff keeps getting in the way. The street looks grimy in this scene we see trash cans, and there’s a guy sweeping up rubbish in the gutter. This sequence does the opposite of that, in a way that indicates to the audience that they shouldn’t be feeling comfortable anymore. On Clark Kent’s side of the street, everyone was well-dressed and polite, traffic noise was kept to a minimum, and there were no visual distractions to get in the way of the audience focusing on the characters’ interactions. Yesterday, I talked about how Donner cleared the screen of clutter and contradiction when Clark and Lois stepped out of the Daily Planet building into a sunny Metropolis afternoon. Naturally, this dark ritual of summoning begins with a quaint musical comedy street-sweeper, who shouts, “Hi, Otis!” This moment is a perfect example, because over the next four minutes, the film is going to walk us through a gradual transition that takes us from the last scene’s classic romantic comedy meet-shoot and leads us down into the depths of the underworld, and the brutal murder of a central figure in the sequence.

People talk about the Krypton / Smallville / Metropolis sections as if that explains everything, but Richard Donner keeps on juxtaposing different styles through the entire movie. The film is essentially a montage of different styles, and once we get to Metropolis, that process doesn’t stop. And then, for about four minutes, it becomes a cop movie.Īs we’ve been going through Superman: The Movie, I’ve been tracking the film’s swift pivots in tone, as it transforms itself from sci-fi space opera to tragic teen drama to screwball comedy, with a detour into the psychedelic mindscapes of the Fortress of Solitude.
