It's A Wonderful Life Narrative

In the movie Franz Kafka's It's a Wonderful Life, a particular ironic spectator position exists that deviates from the original Frank Capra Christmas classic film of the same title. This type of position can be related back to the single-focus narrative discussion in Rick Altman's Theory of Narrative, and the three aspects of narrative schema discussed in David Bordwell's Narration in the Fiction Film. These discussions can help us better understand the deviations that director Peter Capaldi wanted to incorporate in his own unique version. Capra's 1946 Christmas drama, It's a Wonderful Life, is an inspirational staple in American classic cinema. It is one of the more realistic and deeper Christmas films to have ever been made, inciting our
Capaldi chose to include a portion of Czech author Franz Kafka's life to create this movie into a fantasy biographical film as well. He picked the time when Kafka was set to write his novella, the future critically-acclaimed The Metamorphosis. Although Capra's film is an inspiring and raw Christmas drama, Capaldi's film is a dark and ironic comedy. Certain scenes from Capra's film would not be necessarily be considered family friendly for a Christmas film, such as George contemplating suicide, but Capaldi's film is even less so for that type of audience. But he chose to include his own recreation of the pure movie conclusion as an ironic
He ponders endlessly what his character will wakes up as in his novella, but cannot come to an idea that makes sense to him, especially when he keeps getting interrupted by his neighbors' boisterous party. Enraged, he goes to confront them, and the hostess seem to understand, until he asks her, “Is this a real conversation or an imaginary one?” “Imaginary, of course!” she replies. “Thank goodness,” he mumbles, as she shuts her door (Capaldi). We had no indication that this was all an imagined scenario, as he wished he could only be that upfront and respected by his noisy neighbors. His heart beating loudly in our ears, he knocks, and instantly we, the audience, become part of this surreal women's party through an inviting POV shot. The hostess leads Kafka and us to dance and a girl comes to offer a peach. There is quiet tension as everyone awaits Kafka's response at this seeming innuendo. A visibly uncomfortable and incredulous Kafka can't find his way through the proper words for what he really wants, for only the audience knows what writing and social energy he has burned through from his room to this party. If only the imaginary scenario had been real. He stalks back to his depressing room, in an even bitter mood to have failed in his mission of quiet and riddance of his writer's