Production Design

PRODUCTION DESIGN AND THE AUDIENCE

While there have been many examples of film design initiating or participating in fashion crazes, and while it has become almost common since the success of the Star Wars films for movie companies to merchandise objects and memorabilia related to blockbuster releases, production design's most influential relationship with the audience is both more subtle and powerful than individual merchandising strategies. It is the cumulative effect of the narrative feature's designed environment that has to be understood to realize the significance of production design in audiences' daily lives. Production design's influence in these matters arises more from a general expectation that life may be as ordered and beautiful as the average film image. In this regard, it is not significantly different from standard advertising, with one major exception. Because the television commercial or glossy magazine spread is obviously selling a way of life, the ad can be rejected. The narrative feature, on the other hand, is not obviously selling anything beyond itself, while at the same time creating the illusion that the perfect images and ordered lives it presents are feasible.

If it is assumed that the least noticeable production design is at the realist end (because the filmmakers are striving to provide the illusion that the fictional events are occurring as viewers watch them), it also may be assumed that to some extent the designers are trying to embed the story in a physically plausible environment. In other words, the world on the screen has to convince audiences it actually exists in order for the realism of the story to succeed. At the same time, in fiction films even the most realistic of cinematic environments provide a structured, dramatically heightened world. Details are included for their thematic and symbolic relevance to story and character; atmosphere is subordinated to dramatic need. So even a reasonably realistic view of, say, an average, suburban middle-class American home will be improbably neat and tidy because everyday messes are not necessary for the story. And unless it figured in the story in some way, the action would be unlikely to show anyone cleaning or tidying up. For example, despite the fact that Mildred Pierce (1945) works all day at home to make ends meet, has two daughters (one of them a physically active tomboy), an unemployed husband under foot, and no one to help her, her home is impeccably spruce.

Nor is the source of the money that supports these environments depicted very often. When the protagonist of American Beauty (1999) leaves his job, there is no material change in his way of life; it is as if the lush furnishings and draperies of his home exist apart from such contingencies. Even when a character's work is included, it tends to be subordinated to his or her emotional concerns. (Unemployment is significant for the hero of American Beauty because it is part of his midlife crisis, not because he is unable to pay his bills.) In other words, nearly every action in the story is focused on those aspects of a character's life that are "interesting" or "dramatic," rather than grounded in daily, grubby activity. This is the inevitable distortion of art. When combined with physically rich environments and effective cinematography, such dramatic heightening is expressed not only in the story and characters, but also in the spaces they inhabit. Created by sophisticated technicians, production design provides a richly saturated ideal, the contemporary measure of style.