This week I was struck by one theme figuring prominently in two radically disparate movies.  Both Nope and Vengeance have characters question whether events that are not recorded are real.  That’s an exaggeration, of course; what they are questioning is whether such events are important, or worth widespread attention.  Evidently this is a theme that is now out there in the zeitgeist, as people are searching for “the Oprah shot,” as Emerald (Keke Palmer) puts it in Nope, looking for fame and fortune by recording an event before anyone else.  Similarly in Vengeance, Ben (B. J. Novak) is preparing a podcast hoping to solve a questionable death mystery, boosting his career in the process.  I will discuss both approaches to this theme here and spoilers are inevitable, so turn away now if you haven’t seen the movies and don’t want surprises ruined.

Vengeance is the more human of the two films, with Ben pressured into attending the funeral of Abilene, whom he knew but not as well as her family believes.  Her brother Ty (Boyd Holbrook) believes she was murdered and encourages Ben to join him to find out and deal with the killer.  This situation leads Ben, not a physical guy, to put together a podcast — his first, hopefully launching a new phase of his writing career — as he interviews the people who knew Abilene to unravel the mystery surrounding her death in an oil field, allegedly from an overdose.  Ben and his editor Eloise (Issa Rae) agree on the parameters of his investigation, discussing various approaches that will hook listeners and strategic points to be emphasized.  All of this is a rather depressing take on modern journalism, reeking strongly of disinformation propaganda over factual substance, yet it also emphasizes the most imperative aspect to Ben and Eloise: everything must be recorded.  Eloise sends Ben new equipment so he can record on the spot, transmit the files back to her and she can edit it into a salable package.  But it has to be recorded, or else they have no story.  It’s as if writing alone is not enough anymore.  While that does make sense for a podcast, since one wants sound bites and interviews and such, it still negates the essence of real life to a startling degree.

This movie goes further.  The act of recording itself becomes a cathartic plot device.  Abilene’s family is thrilled to have Ben stay with them and pleased that he wants to record them.  Both of Abilene’s sisters want to become famous, as an aspiration, and they believe that Ben’s podcast may lead to that.  Ben himself, a writer of some note for The New Yorker, wants to expand his own career and hit the big time as a podcaster.  I personally don’t really understand how that could work, given the sheer volume of podcasts now available and the limited amount of time listeners have to listen, let alone find his specific podcast, but it’s a movie conceit.  But in order to make the podcast, Ben must record everything.  Everything, that is, until the climactic moment when he finally has to act upon the information he has collected.

In the climax Ben confronts the person he believes responsible for Abilene’s death and records the encounter.  Then he reveals to that person that he has recorded their confession.  The reaction is surprising.  The person accepts that they have been caught, but cautions Ben that even though the case seems complete, later people will begin to question everything about it.  Ben’s own motives and complicity will come into play; doubts will be sown about the veracity of Ben’s evidence; conspiracy theories will arise and people will take sides both for and against Ben’s conclusions.  Despite the recordings, and even because of them, the circumstances surrounding Abilene’s death will never be fully understood.  This floors Ben, a classic fish-out-of-water character who has never felt comfortable in Texas, or dealing with forthright people, and his conscience demands that he try to do the right thing.  For the first time he shuts off his voice recorder and finishes his encounter with the killer in private.  Then he makes a fateful decision about his podcast and his future.

Whatever one thinks about the story or the characters or the New York vs. Texas battle, it is clear that an important theme revolves around the act of recording.  Record producer Quentin Sellers (Ashton Kutcher) is in the business of recording, has actually recorded Abilene’s songs, and in a wonderful scene talks to another young female singer about creating a record that can introduce her own personal voice to the world.  Quentin’s life pretty much revolves around recordings, while Ben hopes to experience for himself.  Abilene is only seen through recordings, and the key to solving her death is locked on her cell phone, a recording in and of itself.  While life certainly goes on in rural Texas for everybody, the film’s stance is that for Ben and Eloise at least, the only important parts are those recorded which can be analyzed and edited and transformed into something that they can use and profit from.  At least until the moment when existence trumps the virtual reality of what might be.

Nope is even more blatant in its need to record the unrecordable.  A California horse ranch run by O. J. Haywood (Daniel Kaluuya) and his sister Emerald (Keke Palmer) begins to experience very odd weather and events.  Eventually O. J. concludes that a flying saucer is haunting his particular valley, scooping up horses and occasionally people, causing destruction and chaos.  He can’t call the authorities (who would believe him?) so he and his sister enlist the help of tech-savvy Angel (Brandon Perea) to actually record whatever is hiding in the clouds and save the ranch, and perhaps themselves, by selling the recording they hope to make.  Eventually they recruit a battle-hardened veteran cinematographer, Antlers Holst (Michael Wincott), to manipulate the saucer into plain sight for their money shot, or as Emerald describes it, their “Oprah shot.”

There is a whole lot to digest in Nope, much of it mysterious and some of it unexplainable.  It is an original, audacious, somewhat mystifying experience that deserves multiple viewings to decode all that is going on.  But perhaps the strongest theme running through Jordan Peele’s study is the need to record for posterity, and fame, the mysteries of life which they are experiencing.  Antlers is a cinematographer; filming is his life.  Angel works with video, setting up the camera system on the Haywood ranch and monitoring it even when told not to because he needs to see their big secret.  The film begins with the making of a commercial, an act of recording, that is cancelled when a horse reacts badly — to seeing itself in a mirror.  The film’s creepiest moment occurs in a horse barn, as O. J. encounters something he cannot explain and tries to record it.  Finally, the big climax deals with Emerald trying to get the money shot herself, using all of her wits and muscles to pull off the impossible, even as outsiders loaded up with cameras of their own begin to invade their valley, hoping to witness whatever the hell is going on for themselves (because they have seen evidence of something on the internet).

For the Haywoods, whose lives have been intertwined with cinema since the beginning of the art form, recording the object in the clouds is survival.  With the ranch in arrears, jobs disappearing and horses being sold for sustenance, something has to change.  Emerald is all for fleeing but O. J. is stubborn and refuses to run.  He tries to understand his adversary, coming to the conclusions that lead the way toward opposing it, recording it and eventually trying to destroy it.  But recording it is the most imperative action, because this could change their fortunes and save the ranch.  Emerald’s heroic actions at the climax are spectacular and appear to do the job, and yet, like the killer’s caution near the end of Vengeance, one wonders.  No doubt people will say the pictures are faked, that such things could not have happened, that even the physical evidence is not to be taken seriously because the story is just so fantastic.  Even with photographic or sonic recordings, people will refuse to believe.

So is something real if it is not recorded?  In real life this is not a rational question.  It is amazing how many spectacular events occur away from cameras until their aftermaths are chronicled, but that does not change the fact that they occur.  But in movies, where so many aspects are heightened and intensified and manipulated, and then analyzed, for meaning, the question has more value.  These movies argue that recordings of events reaffirm that those events are indeed real, thus comforting or polarizing the people who witness them secondhand, whatever the case may be.  And that the recorders themselves are perfectly justified to profit from their recordings.  Of course, there will be questions later, perhaps debunking the entire process, but that’s just the nature of how things cycle nowadays.  I find it fascinating that this issue of recordings is so vividly and dramatically playing out in current movies.  If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, did it really fall?  Same question, same discussion, much better visuals now.