James Monaco-How To Read A Film
James Monaco-How To Read A Film
James Monaco-How To Read A Film
Movies, Media,
james monaco
Multimedia
3rd Edition
James Monaco
with diagrams by David Lindroth
Oxford University Press Oxford New York Athens Auckland Bangkok Bogota Buenos Aires Calcutta Cape Town Chennai Dar es Salaam Delhi Florence Hong Kong Istanbul Karachi Kuala Lumpur Madrid Melbourne Mexico City Mumbai Nairobi Paris Sao Paulo Singapore Taipei Tokyo Toronto Warsaw and associated companies in Berlin Ibadan Copyright 1977,1981,2000 by James Monaco First published in 2000 by Oxford University Press, Inc. 198 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016 Oxford is a registered trademark of Oxford University Press All rights reserved. N o part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of Oxford University Press. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Monaco.James. How to read a film: the world of movies, media, and multimedia: art, technology, language, history, theory / James Monaco: with diagrams by David Lindroth.3rd ed., completely rev. and expanded. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-19-513981-X (Cloth) ISBN 0-19-503869-X (Pbk.) 1. Motion pictures. PN1994.M59 1997 97-1832 791.43'01'5dc21
Since this page cannot legibly accommodate all necessary credits, the following page is regarded as an extension of the copyright page.
The passage from Denise Levertov's "The Rights" Denise Levertov, 1957, reprinted by permission of City Lights Books. The page from Donald Barthelme's Sadness Donald Barthelme, 1970, 1971, 1972, reprinted with the permission of Farrar, Straus fr Giroux, Inc. The still from Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho courtesy Universal Pictures, from the book Psycho, Darien House, Inc., 1974, edited by Richard J. Anobile, and distributed by Avon Books and Universe Books, New York City, is used by special arrangement with the publisher, Darien House, Inc. Christian Metz's "General Table of the Large Syntagmatic Category of the Image-Track" from Film Language: A Semiotics of the Cinema by Christian Metz, translated by Michael Taylor, 1974 by Oxford University Press, Inc., reprinted by permission. Photographs so credited are reproduced from the "Avant-Scene Collection" of slide albums: Eisenstein, Welles, Renoir, Godard, Fellini, and Bergman, I'Avant-Scene du Cinema, 1969, 1970, 1971, 1972, 1975.
CREDITS Design Director: David Lindroth. General Editor English Edition: Curtis Church. General Editor German Edition: Hans-Michael Bock. Editorial Assistance: Richard Allen, Joellyn Ausanka, William D. Drennan, Kathleen Fitzpatrick, Joe Medjuck, James Pallot, Leonard Quart, Roger Rawlings, Anne Sanow, Jerrold Spiegel, Dan Streible, John Wright, Robert Wohlleben. Production Assistance: Kate Collins, Nick Drjuchin, Suzanne Goodwin, Jo Imeson, Susan Jacobson, Charles Monaco, Margaret Monaco, Andrew Monaco, Greg Parker, Stephen Plumlee, Susan Schenker.
A NOTE ON THE TYPE This edition of How To Read a Film is set in Adobe's release of Meridien. Designed in 1957 by Swiss typographer Adrian Frutiger for the French foundry Deberny & Peignot, Meridien's large x-height enhances legibility while its Latinesque serifs and flared stems give it a classical Roman elegance. One of the pioneers of "cold type" design, Frutiger is perhaps best-known for the influential Univers family. The display types are Bodoni and Trade Gothic. The captions are set in Trade Gothic Light. The book was set by UNET 2 Corporation. Prepress by Jay's Publishers Services, Inc..
WWW.ReadFilm.com
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION Preface to t h e Second Edition FILM AS AN ART The N a t u r e of Art Ways of Looking at Art The Spectrum of Abstraction The Modes of Discourse The "Rapports de Production" Film, Recording, a n d t h e O t h e r Arts Film, Photography, and Painting Film and the Novel Film and Theater Film and Music Film and the Environmental The Structure of Art TECHNOLOGY: fMAGE AND SOUND Art a n d Technology Image Technology Sound Technology The Lens The Camera The Filmstock Negatives, Prints, and Generations Aspect Ratio Grain, Gauge, and Speed Color, Contrast, and Tone The S o u n d t r a c k Arts
12 17 22 22 28
38
62 68 68
78 86 100
124
Postproduction Editing Mixing and Looping Special Effects Opticals, the Lab, and the Post House Video a n d Film Projection THE LANGUAGE OF FILM: SIGNS AND SYNTAX Signs The Physiology of Perception Denotative and Connotative Meaning Syntax Codes Mise-en-Scene The Framed Image The Diachronic Shot Sound Montage THE SHAPE OF FILM HISTORY Movies/Film/Cinema "Movies": Economics "Film": Politics "Cinema": Esthetics Creating an Art: Lumiere Versus Melies The Silent Feature: Realism Versus Expressionism Hollywood: Genre Versus Auteur Neorealism and After: Hollywood Versus the World The New Wave and the Third World: Entertainment Versus Communication The Postmodern Sequel: Democracy, Technology, End of Cinema FILM THEORY: F O R M AND FUNCTION The Critic The Poet a n d t h e Philosopher: Lindsay a n d Mtinsterberg Expressionism a n d Realism: A r n h e i m a n d Kracauer M o n t a g e : Pudovkin, Eisenstein, Balazs, a n d Formalism Mise e n Scene: Neorealism, Bazin, a n d Godard Film Speaks a n d Acts: Metz a n d C o n t e m p o r a r y Theory
128
172
228 228 232 261 284 285 288 29A 301 313 358 388 388 391 394 400 406 417
MEDIA: IN THE MIDDLE OF THINGS Community Print a n d Electronic Media The Technology of Mechanical a n d Electronic Media Radio a n d Records Television a n d Video "Broadcasting": The Business "Television ": The Art "TV": The Virtual Family MULTIMEDIA: THE DIGITAL REVOLUTION The Digital Revolution The M y t h of M u l t i m e d i a The M y t h of Virtual Reality The M y t h of Cyberspace " W h a t Is to be D o n e ? " FILM AND MEDIA: A CHRONOLOGY To 1895: Prehistory 1 8 9 6 - 1 9 1 5 : The Birth of Film 1916-1930: Silent Film, The Births of Radio a n d Sound Film 1 9 3 1 - 1 9 4 5 : The Great Age of Hollywood a n d Radio 1 9 4 6 - 1 9 6 0 : The G r o w t h of Television 1 9 6 1 - 1 9 8 0 : The Media World 1981-Present: The Digital World READING ABOUT FILM AND MEDIA Part O n e : A Basic Library Part Two: Information INDEX Topics People Titles
428 428 430 440 460 465 469 480 505 518 518 534 543 550 558 570 570 572 573 575 578 581 588 604 605 637
II
INTRODUCTION
W h a t with one thing and another, almost twenty years have passed since the seco n d edition of How To Read a Film. I have excuses, mind you. We raised a family, bought a house, made a living. We founded two companies in the process. Moreover, sales of the second edition kept inCTeasing, year after year, thanks to a loyal group of readers a n d film professors. In the computer industry, there's a saying: "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." The timing h a d b e e n right for t h e book. The first edition w a s completed in 1977, just at t h e end of a n exciting period of film history. The past twenty years h a v e h a d their s h a r e of good films (and c o m p e t e n t scholarship); Hollywood thrived during the eighties a n d nineties, as n e w distribution media m a d e the economics of filmmaking m o r e flexible. And i n d e p e n d e n t filmmakers h a v e b o t h m o r e freedom a n d cheaper technology at their c o m m a n d . But there have b e e n n o m a j o r m o v e m e n t s since t h e seventies to alter radically o u r v i e w of t h e m e d i u m or its history. The movie generation of the sixties has h a d a longer reign n o w t h a n the generation of the thirties that preceded it. If you m a k e a list of the important filmmakers of the late 1970s, it will servewith only a few additions a n d deletionsas a list of t h e d o m i n a n t personalities of t h e late 1990s. As t h e generation has, so the book has lasted. Yet, in the past twenty years, the whole world has changed. The n e w technology is pervasive, and its effect o n the way w e m a k e not only movies but all media is about to become profound. The microcomputer revolution, which was begirming just as the first edition of How To Read a Film appeared, has t h o r o u g h l y d o m i n a t e d t h e cultural a n d business history of t h e 1980s a n d 1990s. The w a y w e process text, images, a n d sounds today is radically different from w h a t it was twenty years ago. And the union of media, which the invention of movies foreshadowed a h u n d r e d years ago, is n o w nearly a reality. It's as if film,
INTRODUCTION
t h e defining m e d i u m of t h e t w e n t i e t h century, w a s b u t prologue to t h e n e w media of t h e twenty-first. As the old technologies of chemistry and mechanics yield to digital electronics a n d photonics, filmmakers m a y rediscover the pioneer spirit. The m e d i u m is about to be reborn: now, if you can think it, you can film it. The w a y w e consume motion pictures has changed even more. In the 1970s, film buffs organized their lives a r o u n d repertory-house schedules, a n d might travel 50 miles to catch a screening of a rare film. Today, even the most out-oft h e - w a y t o w n has a video store with four or five thousand titles in stock, ready for viewing at a m o m e n t ' s notice, and if you can't find it there, you can get it o n the Internet. Twenty years ago, very few of us actually owned movies; today, even fewer of us do not. Films are a lot m o r e like books, n o w (and books are about to become m o r e cinematic). In the past twenty years our exposure to filmed entertainment has increased by a magnitude or more. While the n e w technology is exciting and promising, the art that it serves has yet to share t h e spirit of revolution. That's n o t surprising: art imitates life, n o t technology, a n d o u r political concerns are just a b o u t t h e s a m e as t h e y w e r e twenty years ago. The Cold War ended, not with a bang, but a series of whimpers, a n d ended too late to have the dramatic effect it should have had o n most people's lives (except for the victims of the Eastern European ethnic wars). The world of politics is as p o s t m o d e r n as o u r popular culture. We d o n ' t invent, w e don't react, w e don't create. We simply repeat, a n d repeat, a n d repeat. Ideas a n d feelings t h a t w e r e h e a d y , exciting, a n d full of p r o m i s e for a few brief s h i n i n g m o m e n t s in the 1960s are still with us, n o w nagging responsibilities, long in the tooth, often distorted ("politically correct"). I don't k n o w w h y this has happened (perhaps w e w e r e too b u s y trying to figure o u t h o w to get o u r c o m p u t e r s to work), but it has. It seems clear, now, that the generation of the 1960s will have to leave to our children the w o r k of reinventing social politics, restoring its humor, and rediscovering its joy. At least they have a fresh century at their disposal. This fourth edition of How To Read a Film was conceived from the beginning as a multimedia production.* The book seemed to welcome this approach not only because of its subject, but also for its architecture, which was global rather t h a n linear. The seven sections of the book stand independently; readers can use t h e m (or ignore them) as they see fit. Now the additional "parts" o n the disc are available for this do-it-yourself construction project. You can find out more about the multimedia edition at WWW.ReadFilm.com or by vmting or calling UNET 2 Corporation, 80 East 11th Street, New York NY 10003; 800 269 6422. W h e n I began w o r k o n the third edition, it looked like a six-month project. But the work stretched out for years as w e discovered more and more possibilities * The third edition appeared only in German as Film verstehen (1995).
INTRODUCTION
verstehen has proceeded concurrently with the English-language edition.) Ludwig Moos of Rowohlt Verlag provided patient support during the process. To all, m u c h thanks. I'm also grateful to m y wife and children. While it is traditional in acknowledgements of this kind to t h a n k your family, in this case it is doubly appropriate. Not only did t h e y offer t h e support, e n c o u r a g e m e n t , a n d patience a n y writer needs, they also contributed directly. Their assistance in research, editing, production, and programming was invaluable. I hope they agree that this family project was more fun t h a n any yard sale. J. M. Sag Harbor August 1999
INTRODUCTION
aspect of t h e p h e n o m e n o n . Since it's difficult to u n d e r s t a n d h o w t h e art has d e v e l o p e d w i t h o u t s o m e k n o w l e d g e of t h e technology, C h a p t e r 2 proceeds immediately to a discussion of the science of film. Understanciing technique, w e can begin to discover h o w film operates as a language (Chapter 3). Since practice does (or should) precede theory, the history of the industry a n d art (Chapter 4) precedes the intellectualization of it here (Chapter 5). We conclude by widening the focus to view movies in the larger context of media (Chapter 6). This order seems most logical to m e , b u t readers m i g h t very well prefer to begin w i t h history or theory, language or technology, a n d in fact the book has b e e n constructed in such a w a y that the sections can be read independently, in any order. (This has resulted in a small n u m b e r of repetitions, for which I ask your indulgence.) Please remember, too, that in any w o r k of this sort there is a tendency to prescribe rather t h a n simply describe the complex p h e n o m e n a u n d e r investigation. Hundreds of analytical concepts are discussed in the pages that follow, b u t I ask that readers consider t h e m just thatconcepts, analytical tools rather t h a n given laws. Film study is exciting because it is constantly in ferment. It's m y hope that How To Read a Film is a book that can be argued with, discussed, a n d used. In a n y a t t e m p t at u n d e r s t a n d i n g , t h e questions are usually m o r e important t h a n the answers. How To Read a Film is the result of ten years spent, mainly, thinking, writing, a n d talking about film a n d media. Having tried in the pages that follow to set d o w n a few ideas about movies and TV, I find I a m most impressed with the n u m ber of questions that are yet to be answered. Appendix n gives a fair sense of the considerable a m o u n t of work that has already been done (mainly in the past ten years); t h e r e is m u c h m o r e yet to do. Had How To Read a Film included all the material I originally wanted to cover it would have b e e n encyclopedic in length; as it is now, it is a n admittedly hefty, b u t nevertheless still sinewy, introduction. More and more it seems to m e movies must be considered in the context of media in generalin fact, I would go so far as to suggest that film is best considered simply as one stage in the ongoing history of communications. Chapter 6 introduces this concept. You will find some additional material on both print and electronic media in the Chronology. A few miscellaneous notes: Bibliographical information n o t included in footnotes will be found in the appropriate section of Appendix II. Film titles are in English, unless t h e original foreign language titles are commonly used. In cases w h e r e halftones are direct enlargements of film frames, this has b e e n noted in the captions; in most other cases, you can assume the halftones are publicity stills and m a y differ in slight respects from the actual images of the film. I o w e a very real debt to a n u m b e r of people w h o have helped in various ways. How To Read a Film never would have been written without my invaluable experience teaching film at the New School for Social Research. I thank Allen Austill for
Figure 1-1. THE ANCIENT MUSES. Calliope (epic poetry), Clio (history), Erato (love poetry), Melpomene (tragedy), Terpsichore (choral dancing), Polyhymnia (sacred music), Euterpe (lyric poetry), Thalia (comedy), and Urania (astronomy). The fellow in the middle is Apollo. (Pitti Palace, Florence.)
tation. U n d e r t h e rubric of poetry, t h e Greeks a n d R o m a n s recognized t h r e e approaches: Lyric, Dramatic, and Epic. All have yielded modern literary arts. By the thirteenth century, however, the word "art" h a d taken on a considerably more practical connotation. The Liberal Arts curriculum of the medieval university still n u m b e r e d seven c o m p o n e n t s , but t h e m e t h o d of definition had shifted. The literary arts of the classical periodHistory, Poetry, Comedy, a n d Tragedyhad merged into a vaguely defined mix of literature and philosophy a n d t h e n h a d b e e n reordered according to analytical principles as Grammar, Rhetoric, and Logic (the Trivium), structural elements of t h e arts rather t h a n qualities of t h e m . Dance was dropped from the list and replaced by Geometry, marking the growing importance of mathematics. Only Music and Astronomy remained unchanged from the ancient categories. Outside the university cloisters, the w o r d was e v e n m o r e flexible. We still speak of the "art" of war, the medical "arts," even the "art" of angling. By the sixteenth century, "art" was clearly synonymous with "skill," and a wheelwright, for example, was just as m u c h an artist as a musician: each practiced a particular skill. By the late seventeenth century, the range of the word had begun to narrow once again. It was increasingly applied to activities that had never before been includedpainting, sculpture, drawing, a r c h i t e c t u r e w h a t w e n o w call the "Fine Arts." The rise of the concept of m o d e m science as separate from and contradictory to t h e arts m e a n t that A s t r o n o m y a n d G e o m e t r y w e r e n o longer regarded in the same light as Poetry or Music. By the late eighteenth century, the Romantic vision of the artist as specially endowed restored some of the religious
FILM AS AN ART
aura that h a d surrounded the word in classical times. A differentiation was n o w made between "artist" and "artisan." The former was "creative" or "imaginative," the latter simply a skilled w o r k m a n . In the nineteenth century, as the concept of science developed, the narrowing of the concept of art continued, as if in response to that m o r e rigorously logical activity. W h a t h a d once been "natural philosophy" was termed "natural science"; the art of alchemy became the science of chemistry. The n e w sciences were precisely defined intellectual activities, dependent on rigorous methods of operation. The arts (which were increasingly seen as being that which science was not) were therefore also more clearly defined. By the middle of the nineteenth century the word had more or less developed the constellation of connotations w e k n o w today. It referred first to the visual, or "Fine," arts, t h e n m o r e generally to literature and the musical arts. It could, o n occasion, be stretched to include the performing arts and, although in its broadest sense it still carried the medieval sense of skills, for the most part it was strictly used to refer to m o r e sophisticated endeavors. The romantic sense of the artist as a c h o s e n o n e r e m a i n e d : "artists" w e r e distinguished n o t only from "artisans" (craftspeople) b u t also from "artistes" (performing artists) with lower social and intellectual standing. With the establishment in the late nineteenth century of the concept of "social sciences," t h e spectrum of m o d e r n intellectual activity was complete a n d the range of art h a d narrowed to its present domain. Those p h e n o m e n a that yielded to study by the scientific m e t h o d w e r e ordered u n d e r the rubric of science a n d were strictly defined. Other phenomena, less susceptible to laboratory techniques and experimentation, b u t capable of being ordered with some logic a n d clarity, were established in the gray area of the social sciences (economics, sociology, politics, psychology, a n d sometimes even philosophy). Those areas of intellectual endeavor that could not be fit into either the physical or the social sciences were left to the domain of art. As the development of the social sciences necessarily limited the practical, utilitarian relevance of the arts, and probably in reaction to this p h e n o m e n o n , theories of estheticism evolved. With roots in t h e Romantic t h e o r y of the artist as prophet and priest, the "art for art's sake" m o v e m e n t of the late Victorian age celebrated form over content and once more changed the focus of the word. The arts were n o longer simply approaches to a comprehension of the world; they were n o w ends in themselves. Walter Pater declared that "all art aspires to the condition of music." Abstractionpure formbecame the touchstone of the w o r k of art and the m a i n criterion by w h i c h works of art w e r e judged in the twentieth century.* The rush to abstraction accelerated rapidly during the first two-thirds of the twentieth century. In t h e n i n e t e e n t h century the avant-garde m o v e m e n t h a d
FILM AS AN ART
the m a i n s t r e a m influence of Rap music, a n d a r e n e w e d vigor in i n d e p e n d e n t filmmaking. However, the politics that these arts reflect hasn't progressed m u c h beyond the stage it h a d reached by 1970: more or less the same issues concern us n o w as then. "Don't kill the messenger" (and don't blame the artists). And, while the artists have understood and accepted the passing of the avant garde, the politicians haven't yet freed themselves from dependence o n the Left-Right dialecticnow equally moribundupon which that artistic m o v e m e n t depended. So t h e r e is m o r e politics in artit's just poor quality politics. Moreover, the explosion in the technology of the arts since the mid-1970s, a subject w e will discuss in some detail in Chapters 6 a n d 7, has overshadowed a n d often displaced the renewed relevance that w e expected. This technology is the third basic factor that has determined the history of the arts during the past h u n d r e d years. Originally, the only way to produce art was in "real time": the singer sang the song, the storyteller told the tale, the actors acted the drama. The development in prehistory of drawing and (through pictographs) of writing represented a q u a n t u m j u m p in systems of communication. Images could be stored, stories could be preserved, later to be recalled exactly. For seven thousand years the history of the arts was, essentially, the history of these two representative media: the pictorial and the literary. The development of recording media, different from representative media in kind as well as degree, was as significant historically as the invention of writing seven t h o u s a n d years earlier. Photography, film, a n d s o u n d recording t a k e n together shifted dramatically our historical perspective. The representational arts m a d e possible the "re-creation" of p h e n o m e n a , but they required the complex application of the codes and conventions of languages. Moreover, those languages w e r e manipulated by individuals a n d therefore the element of choice was a n d is highly significant in the representational arts. This e l e m e n t is t h e source of most of the esthetics of t h e pictorial a n d literary arts. W h a t interests estheticians is not what is said but hew it is said. In stark contrast, the recording arts provide a m u c h m o r e direct line of communication between the subject and the observer. They do have their o w n codes and conventions, it's true: a film or sound recording is not reality, after all. But the language of t h e recording media is b o t h m o r e direct a n d less ambiguous t h a n either written or pictorial language. In addition, the history of the recording arts hasuntil recentlybeen a direct progression t o w a r d greater verisimilitude. Color film reproduces m o r e of reality t h a n does black-and-white; sound film is more closely parallel to actual experience than is silent; and so forth. This qualitative difference b e t w e e n representational m e d i a a n d recording media is very clear to those w h o use the latter for scientific purposes. Anthropologists, for example, are well aware of the advantages of film over the written word. Film does not completely eliminate the intervention of a third party between the
Figure 1-2. Josef Albers's Homage x 40", The Museum 1995, The Museum
to the Square:
compositions, exemplifies mid-twentieth-century minimalism. {Oil on composition of Modern Art, New York.)
of Modern Art, New York. Dr and Mrs Frank Stanton Fund. Photograph
subject and the observer, but it does significantly reduce the distortion that the presence of an artist inevitably introduces. The result is a spectrum of the arts that looks like this: the perfonnance arts, which happen in real time; the representational arts, which depend on the established codes and conventions of language (both pictorial and literary) to convey information about the subject to the observer; the recording arts, which provide a more direct path between subject and observer: media not without their own codes but qualitatively more direct than the media of the representational arts.
That is, until now. The application of digital technology to film and audio, which began to gather m o m e n t u m in the late 1980s, points to a n e w level of discourse: one that is about to revolutionize our attitude toward the recording arts. Simply put, digital techniques like morphing and sampling destroy our faith in the honesty of the images and sounds we see and hear. The verisimilitude is still therebut we can n o longer trust our eyes and ears. We'll discuss these remarkable developments in greater detail in Chapter 7.
FILM AS AN ART
The Spectrum of
Abstraction
The older of these systems of classification depends for its definition on the degree of abstraction of a particular art. This is one of the oldest theories of art, dating back to Aristotle's Poetics (fourth century B.C.). According to the Greek philosopher, art was best understood as a type of mimesis, an imitation of reality dependent on a medium (through which it was expressed) and a mode (the way the medium was utilized). The more mimetic an art is, then, the less abstract it is. In n o case, however, is an art completely capable of reproducing reality. A spectrum of the arts organized according to abstraction would look something like this:
The arts of design (clothing, furniture, eating utensils, a n d so forth), which often are not even dignified by being included in the artistic spectrum, would be found at the left end of this scale: highly mimetic (a fork comes very close to thoroughly reproducing the idea of a fork) and least abstract. Moving from left to right w e find architecture, which often has a very low esthetic quotient, after all; then sculpture, which is both environmental and pictorial; then painting, drawing, and the other graphic arts at the center of the pictorial area of the spectrum. The dramatic arts combine pictorial and narrative elements in various measures. The novel, short story, and often nonfiction as well are situated squarely in
FILM AS AN ART
Organized this way, the system of artistic communication would look something like Diagram B. The vertical axis constitutes the immediate experience of an art; the horizontal, the transmission or narration of it. Artifacts, pictorial representations, and pictorial records (that area above the horizontal axis) occupy space rather than time. Performances, literature, and film records are more concerned with time than with space. (In Diagram A, the space arts occupy the left-hand side of the spectrum, the time arts the right.) Note that any single art occupies not a point in Diagram B but rather an area. A painting, for example, is both an artifact and a representation. A building is not only an artifact but also partially a representation and occasionally a performance. (Architectural critics often use the language of drama to describe the experience of a building; as we move through it our experience of it takes place in time.) The recording arts, moreover, often use elements of performance and representation.
Performance
Diagram B
The spectrum in Diagram A gives us a n index of the degree of abstraction inherent in an art; in other words, it describes the actual relationship between an art and its subject matter. The graph of Diagram B gives us a simplified picture of the various modes of discourse available to the artist.
Examination of the relationship b e t w e e n the artist a n d the work yields theories of the production of art, while analysis of the relationship between the work and the observer gives us theories of its consumption. (The third leg of the triangle, artist-observer, has been until n o w potential rather t h a n actual, although the heightened interest in interactive m e a n s of communication, which began in the early 1980s with the growth of online services, n o w opens u p this relationship to some interesting n e w possibilities. For the first time, artist and observer have the technology to collaborate.) W h e t h e r we approach the artistic experience from the point of view of production or of consumption, there is a set of determinants that gives a particular shape to the experience. Each of t h e m serves a certain function, a n d each in t u r n yields its o w n general system of criticism. Here is a n outline of the determinants, their functions, and the systems of criticism they support:
Diagram D
These d e t e r m i n a n t s of the rapports de production function in most h u m a n activities, but their operation is especially evident in the arts, since it is there that the economic a n d political factors that tend to dominate most other activities are more in balance with the psychological and technical factors. Historically, the political determinant is primary: it is this factor that decides h o w a n artor w o r k of artis used socially. C o n s u m p t i o n is m o r e important h e r e t h a n production. Greek a n d R o m a n theories of art as a n epistemological activity fit u n d e r this category, especially w h e n the quest for knowledge is seen as quasi-religious. The ritualistic aspect of the arts as celebrations of the community
FILM AS AN ART
is at the heart of this approach. The political determinant defines the relationship between the work of art and the society that nurtures it. The psychological determinant, on the other hand, is introspective, focusing our attention not o n the relationship between the work and the world at large, but on the connections b e t w e e n the work and the artist, and the work and the observer. The profound psychological effect of a work of art has been recognized ever since Aristotle's theory of catharsis. In the early twentieth century, during the great age of psychoanalysis, most psychological analysis centered on the connection between the artist and the work. The work was seen as an index of the psychological state of its authorsort of a profound a n d elaborate Rorschach test. Recently, however, psychological attention has shifted to the connection between the work and its consumer, the observer. The technical d e t e r m i n a n t governs the language of the art. Given the basic structure of the artthe particular qualities of oil paint, for example, versus tempera or acrylicswhat are the limits of the possibilities? How does the translation of an idea into the language of the art affect the idea? What are the thoughtforms of each particular artistic language? How have they shaped the materials the artist utilizes? These questions are the province of t h e technical d e t e r m i n a n t . The recording arts, because they are grounded in a m u c h more complex technology t h a n the other arts, are especially susceptible to this kind of analysis. Chapter 2 will discuss these factors in depth. But even seemingly untechnological arts like
W a y s of L o o k i n g a t A r t
the novel are deeply influenced by the technical determinant. For example, the novel could not exist in the form w e k n o w today without the invention of the printing press. Finally, all arts are inherently economic products and as such must eventually be considered in economic terms. Again, film and the other recording arts are prime examples of this p h e n o m e n o n . Like architecture, they are both capitalintensive and labor-intensive; that is, they involve large expenditures of m o n e y and they often require large numbers of workers. These four determinants reveal themselves in n e w relationships at each stage of the artistic process. The technological and economic determinants form the basis for any art. The language of the art and its techniques exist before the artist decides to use them. Moreover, each art is circumscribed by certain economic realities. Film, because it is a very expensive art, is especially susceptible to the distortions caused by economic considerations. The elaborate economic infrastructure of filmthe complex rules of production, distribution, and consumption that underlie the art set strict limitations on filmmakers, a fact that is often ignored by critics. These economic factors, in turn, are related to certain political and psychological uses to which an art can be put. As an economic commodity, for example, film can often best be understood as selling a service that is essentially psychological in nature: we most often go to movies for the emotional effects they provide.
FILM AS AN ART
Artists, confronted with these various determinants, make choices within the set of established possibilities, occasionally breaking n e w ground, most often reorganizing and recombining existing factors. As w e move d o w n the other leg of the artistic triangle, the determinants reveal themselves in n e w relationships. Once the work of art has been completed it has, in a sense, a life of its own. ft is, first of all, a n economic product to be exploited. This exploitation results in certain psychological effects. The end product, as the influence of the film spreads, is political. No matter h o w apolitical the work of art m a y seem, every work has political relevance, like it or not. Historically, the political and psychological determinants have been recognized as important factors in the artistic experience since classical times. In his Ars Poetica, for example, Horace declared that the criteria for a w o r k were that it be both utile et dulce, "useful" and "sweet," or "enjoyable." The utilitarian value of the work is governed by the political determinant, its enjoyability by the psychological. Only recently, however, has serious attention b e e n paid to the technical and economic determinants of the work of art. The approach of semiotics is to study the arts and media as languages or language systemstechnical structures with inherent laws governing not only what is "said" but also hew it is "said." Semiotics attempts to describe the codes and structural systems that operate in cultural phen o m e n a . It does this by using a linguistic model; t h a t is, t h e semiotics of film describes film as a "language." Dialectical criticism, on the other hand, studies the arts in their economic context. Pioneered by the Frankfurt school of German philosophers in the 1930s and 1940sespecially Walter Benjamin, T. W. Adorno, and M a x Horkheimerdialectical criticism analyzes the direct relationships among the work, the artist, and the observer as they are expressed in terms of economic and political structures. The addition of these two m o d e r n approaches to the artssemiotics and dialectics gives us a fuller and more precise understanding of the complexities of the artistic experience. It also allows us more freedom to define its limits. While the image of the artist as priest or prophet reigned, there was n o way to disconnect the experience of the work from the production of it. Art depended o n artists. But w h e n w e recognize the technical a n d linguistic roots of esthetics, w e are m o r e inclined to approach the artistic experience from the point of view of the consumer. In other words, w e can liberate ourselves from artist/priests and develop a "protestant" theory of art. We have already admitted the practical arts of design into the pantheon. We can go further. One of the most obvious candidates for admission to the spectrum of the arts is sports. Most sports activities adapt t h e basic dramatic structure of protagonist/ antagonist a n d can therefore be viewed in dramatic terms. That the "plot" is not
FILM AS AN ART
spectrum of accepted arts, it is not the fault of the producers of those works, but rather a collective decision by consumersa decision that can be rescinded. There is a second corollary: If the s u m total of the artistic experience includes the consumer as well as the producer, and if w e express it as a product: PRODUCTION X CONSUMPTION then a novel way of increasing the sum presents itself. Heretofore, w h e n evaluating a work of art, we have concentrated on the production factor. We have judged only the artist's contribution, usually measured against an artificial ideal: ACHIEVEMENT REQUIREMENT a quotient that m a y have some value in judging other economic activities of a more practical nature (the production of floor waxes or screwdrivers, for example) but that is specious as a system of artistic evaluation, since it depends for its validity o n the denominator, a n arbitrary "requirement." But we can just as easily increase the experience of art by increasing the factor of consumption, both in quality and in quantity. In quantitative terms, the more people w h o are exposed to a work of art, the m o r e potential effect it has. In qualitative terms, t h e observer/consumer does h a v e it within his p o w e r to increase the s u m value of the work by becoming a m o r e sophisticated, creative, or sensitive participant in the process. This is not a n e w idea in practice, although it m a y be so in theory. Indeed, film itself is especially rich in this sort of activity. Film buffs, after all, have trained themselves to discern the thematic, esthetic, even political values inherent in, say, the films of minor directors such as Jacques Tourneur or Archie Mayo. At best, such buffs are the cutting edge of criticism for general students of the subject; at worst, they have discovered a way to extract greater value from poor artistic ore than the rest of us. This is the n e w ecology of art. Artists themselves are well aware of the potential of this new, responsive relationship. F o u n d art, found poetry, aleatoric theater, m u s i q u e concrete, all are based o n a n understanding of the potential power of the observer to multiply the value of artistic experience. What the artist does in each of these instances is to act as a preobserver, a n editor w h o does not create, b u t chooses. The poet Denise Levertov has expressed the basis for this enterprise succinctly: I w a n t to give you something I've made some words o n a pageas if to say "Here are some blue beads"
FILM AS AN ART
holy. Rather t h a n producing a finished work, the artist n o w produceslike it or notraw materials that w e consumers can edit to our lildng:"... choice is made." The spectrum of abstraction, the modes of discourse, the range of determinants, the equation of producer and consumer (and its corollary, the democratization of the process)these various approaches to the study of the arts, as w e noted earlier, are not m e a n t to carry the weight of scientific law, but simply as aids to an understanding of the artistic experience. As conceptual structures, they are useful, but there is a danger in taking t h e m too seriously. These are ways of thinking. They are not derived inductively; rather, they are deduced from the artistic experience itself, and they are m e a n t to set that experience in its proper context: as a p h e n o m e n o n that is comparable at the same time as it appears unique. The experience of art comes first; abstract criticism of this sort isor should bea secondary activity. Moreover, n o n e of these conceptual structures exists in isolation. The elements are all in continual flux and their relationships are dialectical. The interest lies not in w h e t h e r or not, say, architecture is an environmental or pictorial art but in the fact that these elements exist in a dialectical relationship with each other within the art. This is the central struggle that enlivens it. Likewise, it isn't so important w h e t h e r w e classify film as being in the mode of record or representation. (It does evince elements of representationand of performance a n d artifact, as well). W h a t counts is that the contrasts b e t w e e n and a m o n g these various modes are the source of power for the art of film. Generally, the spectrum of abstraction describes the relationships of the arts to their raw material in reality; the system of modes of discourse explains something about the ways in which the arts are transmitted from artist to observer; the structure of determinants describes the m a i n factors that define the shape of the arts; and the equation of artist and observer suggests n e w angles of critical approach to the p h e n o m e n a of the arts.
Film, Photography,
and
Painting
"Moving pictures" are at first glance most closely parallel to the pictorial arts. Until quite recently, film could compete directly with painting only to a limited extent; it wasn't until the late 1960s that film color was sophisticated enough to be considered more t h a n marginally useful as a tool. Despite this severe limitation, the effects of photography and film were felt almost immediately, for the technological media were clearly seen to surpass painting and drawing in one admittedly limited but nevertheless vital respect: they could record images of the world direcdy. Certainly, the pictorial arts have other functions besides precise mimesis, but ever since the early Renaissance mimesis had been a primary value in pictorial esthetics. To people for w h o m travel was a difficult and risky business, the reproduction of landscape scenes was fascinating and the portrait an almost mystical experience. Inundated n o w by myriad snapshots, m u g shots, newspaper photos, and picture postcards, w e tend to downplay this function of the pictorial arts. Very soon after the invention of a viable m e a n s of recording a photographic image was a n n o u n c e d to the world o n January 7, 1839, in a lecture by Francois Arago to the French Academy of Sciences, the portrait became its chief area of exploitation. The daguerreotype allowed thousands of ordinary people to achieve the kind of immortality that had hitherto been reserved to an elite. The democratization of the image had begun. Within a few years, thousands of portrait galleries h a d come into being. But Louis Daguerre's invention was incomplete; it produced a n image, but it could n o t reproduce itself. Only a m o n t h after the a n n o u n c e m e n t of Daguerre's u n i q u e system, William H e n r y Fox Talbot described h o w a n image could be reproduced by recording a negative photographic image in the camera and using that to produce, in turn, multiple positives. This was the second important elem e n t of the art of photography. W h e n Frederick Scott Archer's collodion process replaced Talbot's r o u g h paper negatives w i t h film, t h e system of photography,
FILM AS AN ART
Figure 1-5A. There are two ways to spend exorbitant amounts of money on making movies. For Apocalypse Now Francis Ford Coppola reinvented the Vietnam War with the proverbial cast of thousands. The film cost upwards of $ 3 0 million in the mid-seventies....
which can both capture images and reproduce t h e m infinitely and precisely, was complete. Naturally, the n e w invention of photography was immediately applied to the task w h e r e it was most useful: the production of portraits. Painting responded in kind. The years of d e v e l o p m e n t a n d m a t u r a t i o n of photography, roughly the 1840s to t h e 1870s, are just those years in w h i c h the t h e o r y of painting was quickly developing away from mimesis and toward a more sophisticated expression. Freed by the invention of p h o t o g r a p h y from t h e duty to imitate reality, painters w e r e able to explore m o r e fully the structure of their art. There is certainly no simple cause-and-effect relationship between the invention of photography and these developments in the history of painting. Joseph Turner, for example, was producing "antiphotographic" landscapes thirty years before Daguerre perfected his invention. But their connection is more than coincidental. More directly, the very quality of the photographic image seems to have had a direct effect o n t h e t h i n k i n g of painters like t h e Impressionists (Monet a n d Auguste Renoir, in particular), w h o worked to capture the immediate and seemingly accidental quality of the mechanically derived image. In moving away from the idea of a painting as an idealization and toward immediate scientific realism, the Impressionists produced images that m u s t be understood as logically con-
Figure 1-5B. ... James Cameron spent most of his $ 9 0 million budget for Terminator2 (1991) on special effects, the cost of which dwarfed even Arnold Schwarzenegger's star salary. 7"2was the first major film to utilize digital special effects heavily. Within a few years, the cost of these effects had fallen precipitously, as m o r p h i n g software dropped to the price level of video games.
if
nected with photography. Because the camera n o w existed, painters were motivated to rediscover the immediacy of the m o m e n t and the peculiar quality of light, t w o factors that loom large in the esthetic formula of still photography. W h e n M o n e t p u t a n u m b e r of these m o m e n t s side by side, as in his series of paintings of cathedrals and haystacks at different times of the day, h e took the next logical step: his painterly "flip-books" are intriguing precursors of the movies. Still photographers themselves in the m i d - n i n e t e e n t h century also seem on occasion to be looking toward motionthe time elementas the fulfillment of their art. Not long after the portrait and the landscape had established the documentary value of photographs, experimenters like Oscar G. Rejlander and Henry Peach Robinson in England merged the two forms by staging elaborate tableaux not unlike those c o m m o n in the popular theaters of the day. They used actors and often achieved their effects by painstakingly piecing together collages of negatives. Certainly these photographic dramas are a response to painters' ideas first (they are strongly reminiscent of pre-Raphaelite work), but with the benefit of hindsight w e can discern in Rejlander's and Robinson's elaborate images the roots of t h e dramatic e l e m e n t that was to b e c o m e p a r a m o u n t once pictures began to move. If Rejlander and Robinson were sentimental pre-Raphaelites, so, too, was D. W. Griffith.
FILM AS AN ART
Figure 1-6A. By the late 1960s, the "fine" arts had become tightly integrated into popular culture. M u s e u m s were no longer quiet refuges for intellectuals and students, but rather popular, crowded gathering places with long lines waiting for admission. More often than not, you couldn't see the paintings. But you could observe the people looking at the paintings. The change dates from the landmark exhibition of the Mona Lisa behind bulletproof glass at New York's Metropolitan M u s e u m of Art in 1963. Here we see "People Not Looking at Manet's Dejeuner sur I'Herbe"...
There are m a n y instances of these subtle interrelationships between the developing technology of photography and the established arts of painting and drawing in the n i n e t e e n t h century, and the next major development in the esthetics of painting, in the early twentieth century, corresponded with the rise of the moving picture. Again, there is n o w a y w e can m a k e a precise correlation. It's not as if Marcel Duchamp w e n t to see a showing of The Great Train Robbery, cried, "Aha!" and next day sat down to paint Nude Descending a Staircase. But again, the coincidences cannot be ignored. From one perspective, the movements of Cubism and Futurism can be seen as direct reactions to the increasing primacy of the photographic image. It's as if artists were saying: since photography does these things so well, w e shall turn our attention elsewhere. Cubist painting deliberately eschewed atmosphere and light (the areas in which the Impressionists competed directlyand successfullywith t h e rising photographers) in order to break radically a n d irrevocably with the mimetic tradition of Western painting. Cubism marked a significant turning point in the history of all the arts; the artist was freed from a dependence on the existing patterns of the real world and could turn attention to the concept of a work of art that was, for the first time, separate from its subject. From another perspective, Cubism was moving parallel with the development of film. In trying to capture multiple planes of perspective o n canvas, Picasso,
Figure 1-6B. ... and "Crowds A c c o m p a n y i n g Manet's Odalisque," Louvre, October 1976. (JM)
Braque, and others were responding directly to the challenge of film that, because it was a moving picture, permittedeven encouragedcomplex, ever-changing perspectives. In this sense, Nude Descending a Staircase is an attempt to freeze the multiple perspectives of the movies on canvas. Traditional art history claims that the most important influence on Cubism was African sculpture and this is n o doubt true, since the Cubists were probably more familiar with those sculptures than with the films of Edwin S. Porter or Georges Melies, but structurally the relationship with film is intriguing. One of the important elements of Cubism, for example, was the attempt to achieve on canvas a sense of the interrelationships a m o n g perspectives. This doesn't have its source in African sculpture, but it is very m u c h like the dialectic of montageeditingin film. Both Cubism and montage eschew the unique point of view and explore the possibilities of multiple perspective. The theoretical relationship between painting and film continues to this day. The Italian Futurist m o v e m e n t produced obvious parodies of the motion picture; contemporary photographic hyperrealism continues to comment on the ramifications of the camera esthetic. But the connection between the two arts has never again b e e n as sharp a n d clear as it was during the Cubist period. The primary response of painting to the challenge of film has b e e n the conceptualism that Cubism first liberated and that is n o w c o m m o n to all the arts. The work of mimesis has been left, in the main, to the recording arts. The arts of representation and artifact have moved on to a new, more abstract sphere. The strong challenge film presented to the pictorial arts was certainly a function of its mimetic capabilities,
FILM AS AN ART
but it was also due to the one factor that made film radically different from painting: film moved. In 1819, J o h n Keats had celebrated the pictorial art's mystical ability to freeze time in an instant in his "Ode on a Grecian Urn": Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster child of silence and slow time... Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter... Ah, happy, happy, boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd, For ever panting, and for ever young... There is something magical and intoxicating about the frozen m o m e n t of a still w o r k of art that captures life in full flight. But there is a n instructive irony in Keats's poem, for it is almost certain that the sort of u r n h e was h y m n i n g h a d friezelike illustrations, and friezes are among the major attempts of the still pictorial arts to tell a story, to narrate eventsto exist, in short, in time as well as space. In this sense, movies simply fulfill the destiny of painting. Richard Lester made this point nicely in the e n d credits of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum in i966. The film, based on a musical, based on a play by Plautus (thus the classical connection), ends with a shot of Buster Keaton as Erronius running confidently once again a r o u n d the Seven Hills of Rome. The image gradually turns into a n a n i m a t e d frieze against w h i c h the credits are projected. The ultimate freeze-frame ending! Keats's happy boughs, happy piper, and happy, happy lovers likewise in their original incarnation on the surface of the urn would move if they could.
Figure
1-7.
(1964)
consists of one
image: the Empire State Building viewed through Manhattan smog. The office building as artobject. (Frame enlargements,
First, because film operates in real time, it is m o r e limited. Novels end only w h e n they feel like it. Film is, in general, restricted to w h a t Shakespeare called "the short two hours' traffic of our stage." Popular novels have been a vast reservoir of material for commercial films over the years. In fact, the economics of the popular novel are such n o w that recycling the material as a film is a prime consideration for most publishers. It almost seems, at times, as if the popular novel (as opposed to elite prose art) exists only as a first draft trial for the film. But commercial film still can't reproduce the range of the novel in time. An average screenplay, for example, is 125 to 150 typescript pages in length; the average novel three times that. Almost invariably, details of incident are lost in the transition from book to film. Only the television serial can overcome this deficiency. It carries with it some of the same sense of duration necessary to the large novel. Of all the screen versions of War and Peace, for example, the most successful seems to m e to have been the BBC's twenty-part serialization of the early 1970s; not necessarily because the acting or direction was better t h a n the t w o - or sixh o u r film versions (although that is arguable), but because only the longform television serial could reproduce the essential condition of the sagaduration. At the same time as film is limited to a shorter narration, however, it naturally has pictorial possibilities the novel doesn't have. What can't be transferred by incident might be translated into image. And here we come to the most essential difference between the two forms of narration. Novels are told by the author. We see and hear only w h a t h e wants us to see and hear. Films are more or less told by their authors, too, but we see and hear a great deal more t h a n a director necessarily intends. It would be an absurd task for a novelist to try to describe a scene in as m u c h detail as it is conveyed in cinema. (The c o n t e m p o r a r y novelist Alain Robbe-Grillet has experimented in just this
FILM AS AN ART
Figure 1-8. "Mother and Daughter," a daguerreotype by William Shew, circa 1850. Although now in poor condition, this portrait still shows the fine detail and range of tones of w h i c h Daguerre's process was capable. {Daguerreotype, 1/8" by 2 5/8". Collection, print 1995, The Museum York.) sixth-plate, 3 The Museum of Mod-
ern Art, New York. Gift of Ludwig Glaeser. Copy of Modern Art, New
way in novels like Jealousy and In the Labyrinth.) More important, whatever the novelist describes is filtered through his language, his prejudices, and his point of view. With film we h a v e a certain a m o u n t of freedom to choose, to select one detail rather than another. The driving tension of the novel is the relationship between the materials of the story (plot, character, setting, theme, and so forth) and the narration of it in language; between the tale and the teller, in other words. The driving tension of film, on the other hand, is between the materials of the story and the objective nature of the image. It's as if the author/director of a film were in continual conflict with the scene h e is shooting. Chance plays a m u c h larger part, and the end result is that t h e observer is free to participate in t h e experience m u c h m o r e actively. The words o n the page are always the same, but the image on the screen changes continually as w e redirect our attention. Film is, in this way, a m u c h richer experience. But it is poorer, as well, since the persona of the narrator is so m u c h weaker. There has only been one major film, for example, that tried to duplicate the firstperson narration so useful to the novel, Robert Montgomery's Lady in the Lake (1946). The result was a cramped, claustrophobic experience: w e saw only what the hero saw. In order to show us the hero, Montgomery had to resort to a battery of mirror tricks. Film can approximate the ironies that the novel develops in narration, but it can never duplicate them. Naturally, then, t h e novel responded to the challenge of film by expanded attention to just this area: the subtle, complex ironies of narration. Like painting, prose narrative has in the t w e n t i e t h century t u r n e d a w a y from mimesis and toward self-consciousness. In the process it has bifurcated. What was once in the
Figure 1-9. William Henry Fox Talbot's Loch Katrine (Talbottype, c. 1845). The rough paper negative of the Talbottype (or collotype, as it was also known) produced a texture in the image w h i c h was not always welcome. The later collodion process, using clear glass negatives, avoided this texture.
n i n e t e e n t h century a unified experience, the m a i n form of social and cultural expression, and the chosen art of the newly literate middle classes, has in the twentieth century divided into t w o forms: the popular novel (James Michener, Stephen King, Danielle Steele, et a l ) , which is n o w so closely connected with film t h a t it s o m e t i m e s b e g i n s life as a s c r e e n p l a y ; a n d t h e elite n o v e l ( D o n a l d Barthelme, Frederick Busch, Milan Kundera), w h e r e the "artistic" avant-garde work is being done. This high art novel, since James Joyce, has developed along lines parallel to painting. Like painters, novelists learned from the experience of film to analyze their art and conceptualize it. Vladimir Nabokov, Jorge Luis Borges, Alain RobbeGrillet, Donald Barthelme, and m a n y others wrote novels about writing novels (as well as other things) just as m a n y twentieth-century painters painted paintings about painting paintings. Abstraction progressed from a focus o n h u m a n experience, to a concern for ideas about that experience, finally to a n interest mainly in t h e esthetics of t h o u g h t . J e a n Genet, playwright and novelist, said: "Ideas don't interest m e so m u c h as the shape of ideas." In w h a t other respects has the novel been changed by film? Since the days of Defoe, one of the primary functions of the novel, as of painting, was to communicate a sense of other places and people. By the time of Sir Walter Scott, this travelogue service had reached its zenith. After that, as first still, t h e n motion picture photography began to perform this function, the scenic and descriptive character of the novel declined. Moreover, novelists have learned to narrate their stories in
FILM AS AN ART
the smaller units c o m m o n to film. Like contemporary playwrights, t h e y think n o w more often in short scenes t h a n in longer acts. Finally, o n e of t h e novel's greatest assets is its ability to m a n i p u l a t e words. Films h a v e words, too, of course, b u t n o t usually in such profusion a n d never with the concrete insistence of the printed page. If painting u n d e r the influence of film has tended toward design, t h e n the novel is approaching poetry as it redoubles its attention to itself and celebrates its material: language.
Film and
Theater
On the surface, theatrical film seems most closely comparable to stage drama. Certainly the roots of the commercial film in the early years of this century lie there. But film differs from stage drama in several significant respects: it has the vivid, precise visual potential of the pictorial arts; and it has a m u c h greater narrative capability. The most salient difference b e t w e e n staged drama and filmed drama, as it is between prose narrative and film narrative, is in point of view. We watch a play as w e will; w e see a film only as the filmmaker wants us to see it. And in film w e also h a v e the potential to see a great deal m o r e . It has b e c o m e a truism that a stage actor acts with his voice, while a film actor uses his face. Even in the most intimate situation, a n audience for a stage play (note the word w e use"audience," listenersnot spectators) has difficulty comprehending all but the broadest gestures. Meanwhile, a film actor, thanks to dubbing, doesn't even require a voice of his o w n ; dialogue can be added later. But t h e face m u s t be extraordinarily expressive, especially w h e n it is magnified as m u c h as a thousand times in closeups. A film actor will often consider a day well spent if he's accomplished one good "look." W h e n w e consider in addition that films can be m a d e w i t h "raw material"nonprofessional actors, even people w h o aren't aware they're being filmedthe contrasts between stage acting and film acting appear even greater. Just as important as the difference in acting styles is the contrast between dramatic narration in film and o n stage. In Shakespeare's time, the unit of construction for stagework was the scene rather t h a n the act. A play consisted of twenty or thirty scenes rather t h a n three to five m u c h longer acts. By the nineteenth century, this had changed. As theater moved from the thrust stage to the proscenium arch, and as realism became a n important force, the longer, m o r e verisimilitudinous unit of the act took precedence. During a half-hour act, audiences could suspend their disbelief a n d enter into the lives of the characters; the shorter unit of the scene made this more difficult. Film grew u p just at the time this sort of stage realism was at its height. And just as painting and the novel h a d relinquished the function of mimesis to film, so did the stage. The scene returned as the basic unit of construction. Strindberg and others developed a n expressionistic (at times almost Cubist) use of t h e stage
Figure 1-10. The composite photographs of photo-artists like Rejlander and Robinson were in part a response to the relative inflexibility of the m e d i u m in the nineteenth century. This particular composition, Henry Peach Robinson's Fading A way (1858), is a collage of five negatives. The system allowed the artist to capture foreground details as well as the back light through the window. The composite technique was a direct precursor of modern cinematic matte processes. {International Museum of Photography, George Eastman House.)
space. Pirandello analyzed the structure of stage art in detail, and in the process abstracted the experience of the stage for a generation of future playwrights. By the late twenties, avant-garde theater was in a position to challenge the upstart film seriously. There was n o point in realistic stage sets after the style of David Belasco w h e n film could show real locations; n o sense in subtlety of gesture w h e n it couldn't be seen past the first row, and audiences could go around the corner to see silent actresses like Gish and Garbo do extraordinary and w o n derful things with their faces without seeming to m o v e a muscle. W h e n sound and dialogue joined the image on the screen, film was even more closely comparable to stage drama. But theater has one advantage over film, and it is a great one: theater is live. If it is true that film can accomplish a great m a n y effects u n k n o w n in the theater simply because it is shot discontinuously, it is also true that the people w h o perform in film are, quite obviously, not in contact with their audience. In their o w n ways, t w o very different theorists of t h e a t e r m a d e use of this incontrovertible fact. In the late twenties and thirties, b o t h Bertolt Brecht and A n t o n i n A r t a u d (still t h e m o s t influential theorists of d r a m a in t h e m o d e r n period) developed concepts of theater that depended on the continuing interac-
Figure 1-11.
a Staircase,
no. 2. [1912,
oil on
canvas,
Collection.)
Figure 1-12. The visual conventions of Cubism were utilized by a n u m b e r of avant-garde film artists. The theory of Cubism has been even more pervasive. Ingmar Bergman's 1 9 6 6 film Persona was an eloquent example of Cubist perspective. The points of view of actress Elizabeth Vogler (Liv U l l m a n n , left) and her nurse (Bibi Andersson, right) are in such intense balance (as shown here) that at the climax of the film (in another shot) the images of their faces merge together on screen. {Frame enlargement.)
tion between audience and cast. Artaud's so-called Theater of Cruelty required a more demanding and intimate relationship between performer and observer than had ever before existed in the theater. Artaud's aim was to involve the audience deeply in a direct way, as they never could be in the cinema. In his manifesto The Theatre and Its Double Artaud wrote: We abolish the stage and the auditorium and replace t h e m by a single site, without partition or barrier of any kind, which will become the theater of the action. A direct communication will be re-established between the spectator and the spectacle [p. 93f]. Artaud conceived a kind of frontal assault on the spectator, a "total" theater in which all the forces of expression would be brought to bear. He redefined the language of the theater as consisting of everything that occupies the stage, everything that can be manifested and expressed materially on a stage and that is addressed first of all to the
FILM AS AN ART
senses instead of being addressed primarily to the mind as is the language of words... such as music, dance, plastic art, pantomime, mimicry, gesticulation, intonation, architecture, lighting, and scenery [pp. 38-39]. We can see here that the n e w language of the stage as conceived by Artaud is influenced by the language of film, even as it counters the rising dominance of the n e w art. Film, because it had n o set rules, n o traditions, n o academicians, had logically and quickly discovered the value of each of the components Artaud suggests: plastic art, music, dance, pantoinime, et cetera. Once again, one of the older arts finds itself in a love-hate relationship with the n e w technology. But Artaud never lost sight of his one significant advantage: theater is the only place in the world where a gesture, once made, can never be made the same way twice [p. 75]. Brecht took the opposite tack. His theory of Epic Theater is m o r e complex and some would say more sophisticatedthan Artaud's Theater of Cruelty. Recognizing the same basic value as Artaudthe immediacy and intimacy of the theatrical performanceBrecht thought to recreate the relationship b e t w e e n actor a n d audience as a dialectic. No longer would the audience willingly suspend disbelief. That is so m u c h easier in a movie theater. Epic Theater, Brecht wrote, turns the spectator into an observer, but arouses his capacity for action, forces him to take decisions.... [In the old, dramatic theater] the spectator is in the thick of it, shares the experience, the h u m a n being is taken for granted, h e is unalterable, [while in the new, Epic Theater] the spectator stands outside, studies; the h u m a n being is the object of the inquiry, h e is alterable and able to alter.... [Brecht on Theatre, p. 37]. All this is accomplished by a device Brecht labeled the Estrangement Effect (die Verfremdungseffekt), whose object, in Brecht's words, was to "alienate the social gest underlying every incident. By social gest is m e a n t the mimetic a n d gestural expression of the social relationships prevailing between people" [p. 139]. This is clearly more t h a n just a theory of drama. Brecht's Epic Theater a n d its Verfremdungseffekt can be applied to a wide range of arts, not least of which is film itself. And, indeed, Brecht's ideas have a major place in the development of film theory. W h a t Brecht did for the theater was to heighten the spectator's participation, b u t in a n intellectual way, whereas Artaud h a d specifically rejected intellectual approaches in favor of theater as "a m e a n s of inducing trances." Both theories, however, were distinctly antimimetic. Because of their structural similarities, theater a n d film interact m o r e often t h a n do other arts. If in France it is true that m a n y of the more celebrated twentieth-century novelists were filmmakers (Alain Robbe-Grillet, Marguerite Duras), in England, Italy, Germany, and the U.S. (to a lesser extent) people w h o work in
Figure 1-13. During the 1870s and 1880s, the experiments of Etienne Jules fv
the way for the development of the motion picture camera. Muybridge was pari switch. The three strips show the same action from side, front, and back views. by 201/4". Collection, Museum of Modern Art, New York. Gift of the Philadelp of Modern Art, New York.)
This plate, Woman Kicking, was shot with three cameras each with twelve tal
FILM AS AN ART
film are m o r e likely to split their careers b e t w e e n screen a n d stage. The stage (together with dance) is the only art that regularly uses film per se within its own context. The relationship has been fruitful. As the theories of Brecht and Artaud have matured over the past forty years, the theater has developed along the lines they forecast; n o radically n e w theories of theater have superseded them. From Artaud's work, contemporary theater gets its renewed interest in the ritual aspect of the dramatic experience a n d the sense of c o m m u n a l celebration that has always been basic to theater. M u c h of this is accomplished by the intense emphasis of contemporary dramatic theater on mise-en-scene as opposed to text. On the other hand, contemporary theater also looks toward the spoken word as a source of energy. British playwrights especially developed the concept of theater as conversation that has roots in Brecht. Harold Pinter, J o h n Osborne, Edward Bond, and Tom Stoppard, among others, have created in the past forty years a theater of verbal performance that succeeded on an intimate stage as it never could have on film. The close parallelism between the forms of theater and feature film could very well have m e a n t disaster for the older art. Arts have "died" before: in the seventeenth century, the narrative or epic poem was superannuated by the invention of the novel, for example. But theater has responded to the challenge of film with a n e w vitality, and the interaction between the two forms of art has proved to be a major source of creative energy in the mid-twentieth century.
Figure 1-14. During the 1960s and 1970s, a kind of realist backlash took place a m o n g the older, nonrecording arts. The French "nouveau r o m a n " had close links with cinema, just as American "hyperrealism" or "photo-realism" looked to photography for its esthetic base. Here, Phillip Pearlstein's Female Model Reclining Courtesy Frumkin/Adams on Deck Chair {1978, oil on canvas, 48" by 60". Gallery, New York).
the relationship between "horizontal" lines of melody, set in rhythms, and "vertical" sets of harmonies. (No, I'm not sure h o w to fit Rap, or Hip-Hop, into this equation. While Rap grows o u t of a centuries-old a n d fertile tradition of spoken r h y t h m i c art, a n d while it was probably the most innovative artform of the 1990s, its eschewal of both melody and harmony suggests that it is "music" only because it is distributed on CDs and appears on MTV. Maybe Rap makes the point that the one essential e l e m e n t of music is r h y t h m . Perhaps w e should consider Rap, at least in o n e sense, as the last gasp of abstractionironically, the only truly popular expression of the avant-garde abstractionist tendency. Or maybe it's enough to think of Rap as the musicalization of poetry: "All art aspires to the condition of music"and to its market.) Abstractly, film offers the same possibilities of rhythm, melody, and h a r m o n y as music. The mechanical nature of the film m e d i u m allows strict control of the time line: narrative "melodies" can n o w be controlled precisely. In the frame,
FILM AS AN ART
Figure 1-15. Audrey Totter and Robert Montgomery in Lady in the Lake. "First-person" narration in film, strictly construed, must make ingenious use of mirrors if the narrator/hero is to be seen. (Museum of Modern Art/Film Stills Archive.)
events and images can be counterpoised harmonically. Filmmakers began experimenting with the musical potential of the n e w art very early on. Ever since Rene Clair's Entr'acte (1924) and Fernand Leger's Ballet Mecanique (1924-25), in fact, abstract or "avant-garde" film has depended o n musical theory for m u c h of its effect. Even before sound, filmmakers had begun to work closely with musicians. Hans Richter's Vormittagsspuk (Ghosts Before Breakfast, 1928) had a score by Hindemith, played live. Walter Ruttmann's BerlinSymphony of a City (1927) had a live symphonic score as well. Music had quickly become a n integral part of the film experience; silent films were normally "performed" with live music. Moreover, the innovative filmmakers of the silent period were already discovering the musical potential of the image itself. By the late 1930s Sergei Eisenstein, for his film Alexander Nevsky, constructed an elaborate scheme to correlate the visual images with the score by the noted c o m p o s e r Prokofiev. In this film as in a n u m b e r of o t h e r s , s u c h as Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), music often leads, determining images. Because film is projected normally at a rate of twenty-four frames per second, the filmmaker has even m o r e precise control over rhythms t h a n the musician.
Figure 1-16. Donald Barthelme's "fictions" were not quite novels, not quite poems. He often experim e n t e d by integrating old lithographs a n d d r a w i n g with his texts. Here, a page f r o m his story "Flight of Pigeons f r o m the Palace" (Sadness, Farrar, Straus, & Giroux, 1972). Despite their abstraction, Barthelme's stories lent themselves to dramatization because they had a visual as well as narrative reality.
The noble and empty spaces were perfect for our purposes. The first act was the amazing Numbered Man. He was numbered from one to thirty-five, and every part moved. And he was genial and polite, despite the stresses to which his difficult metier subjected him. He never failed to say "Hello" and "Goodbye" and "Why not?" We were happy to have him in the show.
The shortest semihemidemiquaver that could be written in the Western system of notation would last 1/32 of a secondbut it would be impossible to play live notes at that rate. The 1/24 of a second unit, which is the lowest c o m m o n denominator of film, effectively exceeds the quickest r h y t h m s of performed Western music. The most sophisticated rhythms in music, the Indian tals, approach the basic unit of film rhythm as an upper limit. We are ignoring, of course, music that is produced mechanically or electronically. Even before systems of sound recording had m a t u r e d , the player piano offered an opportunity to musicians to experiment with rhythmic systems that were impossible for h u m a n s to perform. Conlon Nancarrow's "Studies for Player Piano" (the earliest dating from 1948) were interesting explorations of these possibilities. Film thus utilizes a set of musical concepts expressed in visual terms: melody, harmony, and r h y t h m are long-established values in film art. Although film itself has had a strong economic impact on music, providing a major market for musicians, it has had n o particularly strong esthetic effect on music. The techniques of
58
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sound recording, however, have revolutionized the older art. The influence of the n e w technology was felt in two waves. The invention of the phonograph in 1877 radically altered the dissemination of music. No longer was it necessary to attend a performance, a privilege that was, over the centuries, limited to a very small elite. Bach's Goldberg Variations, written as bedtime music for a single wealthy individual, Count Kaiserling, former Russian ambassador at the court of the Elector of Saxony, to be played by his personal harpsichordist, J o h a n n Gottlieb Goldberg, were n o w accessible to millions of people w h o couldn't afford private musicians on twenty-four-hour call. Recordings and, later, radio broadcasts quickly b e c a m e powerful pervasive media for the dissemination of music, parallel with performance but superseding it. This h a d just as profound a n effect o n t h e n a t u r e of t h e art of music as t h e invention of both movable type and the printing press had o n literature. The technology quickly dominated the art. Just as the invention of movable type had opened u p literature to the masses, so recordings democratized music. The historical significance cannot be underestimated. But there was a negative aspect to the mechanical reproduction of music, too. Folk music, the art people created for themselves in the absence of professional musicians, was greatly attenuated. In the end, this was a small price to pay for the vast n e w channels of dissemination and, in fact, the n e w musical literacy t h a t recordings helped to create later r e d o u n d e d to t h e benefit of the popular musical arts, which have in the twentieth century become the focal point of the musical world as they never were in earlier times. While the invention of the p h o n o g r a p h had a profound sociological effect o n music, it h a d a very minor technical effect. There were good technological reasons for this, having to do with the limitations of Edison's system, which will be discussed in the next chapter. As a result, it was not until the late 1940s and early 1950swhen magnetic tape began to replace the phonograph record as the main m e a n s of recording, and electrical transcription yielded to electronic methods that music technique came under the influence of the recording arts. Again, the effect was revolutionary. Musicians h a d b e e n experimenting with electronic instruments for years before the development of magnetic tape, but they were still b o u n d by the limits of performance. Tape freed them, and allowed the possibility of editing music. The film soundtrack, w h i c h was optical rather t h a n magnetic, h a d predated tape by twenty years, b u t in the context of film it h a d always b e e n relegated to a supporting role; it w a s n e v e r a n i n d e p e n d e n t medium. Once tape entered the recording studio, sound recording was n o longer simply a m e a n s of preserving a n d disseminating a performance; it n o w became a main focus of creativity. Recording is n o w so m u c h a n integral part of the creation of music that even popular music (to say nothing of avant-garde a n d elite music)
Figure 1-17. "THE LOOK." John Wayne as J. B. Books in Don Siegel's 1 9 7 6 Western, The Shootist. Even in this stili photograph, the face speaks volumes.
has become since the early fifties a creature of the recording studio rather than performance. The Beatles' Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967), a milestone in the development of the practical recording arts, was not reproducible in performance. There had been m a n y earlier examples of this shift of focus, dating back at least as early as the popular records of Les Paul and Mary Ford in the early fifties, but the Beatles' record is generally regarded as the coming of age of recording as one of the primary creative musical forces. The balance has altered so radically n o w that "performances" of popular music (to say nothing of avant-garde performances) often integrate recordings, and m u c h music simply can't be performed at all live. If the t e c h n i q u e s of visual recording had had as great an effect on theater, then a standard popular theatrical performance today would consist in large part of film, and avant-garde theater would consist almost entirely of film! Clearly, the relationship between sound recording and the musical arts is very complex. We have described only the bare outlines of the n e w dialectic here. It may be most significant that, unlike the technique of image recording, the technique of sound recording was quickly integrated with the art of music. Film was seen from the very beginning as a separate art from theater and painting and the
FILM AS AN ART
novel; b u t s o u n d recording even today is still subsumed u n d e r the category of music. Partially, this is the result of the mode of recordingdiscsthat pertained until the 1960s. Unlike film, discs could simply record a n d reproduce their material, not re-create it. But the development of tape and electronic technology added a n e l e m e n t of creativity to s o u n d recording. If anything, s o u n d recording is n o w more flexible and sophisticated t h a n image recording. It m a y be only a matter of time before s o u n d recording is seen as a separate art. If radio h a d survived the invention of television, this would have happened sooner, but coincidentally, just as sound recording was emerging as an art in its o w n right around 1950, radio art was being submerged by television. It is only n o w beginning to recover its flexibility. Significantly, s o u n d recording as a n integral c o m p o n e n t of cinema also languished during those years and has itself only recently begun to reemerge. Ideally, sound should be the equal of image in the cinematic equation, not subservient, as it is now. In short, film has only b e g u n to respond to the influence of the art of music.
Arts
If there is one category of art that has been relatively i m m u n e to the influence of film and the recording arts, it is architecture. Unlike the novel, painting, and music, the environmental arts have not responded directly to the n e w mode of discourse. In fact, w e can discern a more fruitful relationship between drama and architecture t h a n between film and architecture. Not only has the function of the theater as a building had a direct effect on the art produced inside it: architectural constructions themselves have become a part of performance. This p h e n o m e n o n dates back at least as far as the Masques of the early seventeenth century, whose elaborate "strange devices"especially those of the architect Inigo Jonesheld pride of place. More recently, the m o v e m e n t toward environmental theater, with its concurrent theory that the audience should participate physically in the space of a production as well as in its narration, has led to a n even more intimate union of drama and theatrical architecture. But, as Brecht a n d Artaud understood, the Achilles heel of film art lies precisely here: w e cannot enter into the world of the image physically. Images of film can surround us, overwhelm us psychologically, but w e are still structurally separate. Even so-called Virtual Reality media beg the question: you still can't touch or feel t h e e n v i r o n m e n t they create. We c a n n o t interact with film. M e a n w h i l e , architecturemore t h a n any other artinsists o n a n d requires interaction. Its function is to serve practical aims, and its form follows from diat. Until now, t h e relationship b e t w e e n film a n d t h e e n v i r o n m e n t a l arts has remained metaphorical rather t h a n direct. Film can give us a record of architec-
Figure 1-18. Strips of film from Leger's Ballet Mecanlque ( 1 9 2 4 - 2 5 ) . Each group of four frames would last 1/6 second on screen. The effect would be of a rhythmic double exposure. (MOMA/FSA.)
ture (as it can give us a record of any of the other arts), but this hardly constitutes a dialectical relationship. The theory of film montage may have had some slight effect on architectural theory, but it's safe to say this influence was minimal, at best. Likewise, although our sense of film as a "constructed" work is strong, it is the metaphor of construction rather than the actual craft of building design that governs it.
FILM AS AN ART
But while this has been true in the past, the future m a y hold some surprises. "Pop" architecturethe Las Vegas estheticcomes closer to comparing with the structure of cinema t h a n does the kind of elite architecture with formal artistic intentions that has until recently occupied exclusively the attention of architectural critics a n d historians. As a social a n d political expression of t h e culture, architecture m a y be more closely parallel with film t h a n it seems at first glance. In the late sixties (especially in 2 or 3 Things I Know About Her, 1966) Jean-Luc Godard first explored these admittedly t e n u o u s connections. In t h e 1970s a n d 1980s, architect/critics R o b e r t Venturi, Denise Scott B r o w n , a n d S t e p h e n I z e n o u r approached the film/architecture connection from the opposite point of view. In a n exhibition they designed called "Signs of Life: Symbols in the American City" (Renwick Gallery, Washington, D.C., 1976), the Venturis utilized a system of electronically controlled painting developed by the 3M Company to produce life-size, vividly realistic evocations of city scenes that they t h e n integrated w i t h actual constructions. The ramifications of this technique could be considerable. Insofar as architecture is a n art of e n v i r o n m e n t rather t h a n simply a system of construction, the objective visual component might very well be susceptible to photographicand possibly cinematographicproduction. Thomas Wilfred's landmark "lumia" light sculptures, as well as the "light shows" c o m m o n as accompaniment to rock music performances in the late 1960s, also point to interesting applications of cinematic techniques to environmental situations. In t h e early 1990s, Bill Gates, wealthy founder of the Microsoft corporation, built a large h o m e for himself n e a r his company's h e a d q u a r t e r s in Redmond, W a s h i n g t o n . This sedate m a n s i o n w a s e q u i p p e d w i t h n u m e r o u s large wall screens m e a n t to displayelectronicallygreat artworks for which Gates, separately, h a d acquired electronic distribution rights. The result? A kind of virtual Xanadu, t h e software mogul's answer to the press mogul's m a n s i o n 700 miles d o w n the Pacific Coast Highway. While it's h a r d to see h o w the integration of p h o t o g r a p h y a n d architecture could lead to anything more t h a n simple trompe-l'oeil effects, this growing concern w i t h the artificiality of the visual e n v i r o n m e n t has b e e n foreshadowed by contemporary developments in w h a t we might call "sound architecture." Just as architects have always been concerned with the physical environment we experience, usually as it is transmitted to us visually, so n o w the aural environment is drawing their attention. The Muzak of 1960s and 1970s elevators, shopping centers, and office buildings was the first example of a n aural environment. The "Environment" series of electronically constructed or modified recordings produced by Syntonic Research, Inc. in t h e early 1970s offered m o r e elaborate examples. Computer-designed reconstructions of natural sounds such as ocean waves, rain, and birdsong, they
Film, sound recording, and video, then, have had profound effects on the nature and development of nearly all the other, older arts and have in turn to a considerable extent been shaped by them. But while the spectrum of arts is wide, the domain of film and the recording arts is even wider. Film, records, and tapes are media: that is, agencies or channels of communication. While art may be the main use to which they are put, it is clearly not the only use. Film is also an important scientific tool that has opened u p n e w areas of knowledge. It provides the first signifi* Perhaps with good reason: parallel to the growth of private listening devices has been the cacophonous explosion in automatic, uncontrollable public noisenagging backup warnings, belligerent 175-watt auto sound systems, intrusive car alarms, pointless digital-watch alarms, teenagers' pagers. Sound pollution has increased so dramatically in the electronic age that Walkman earplugs may be the only answer. In 1993, some organizations for the deaf complained about new surgical techniques that gave a measure of hearing to the deaf: they were protesting the loss of "the gift of silence."
FILM AS AN ART
cant general means of communication since the invention of writing more than seven thousand years ago. As a m e d i u m , film needs to be considered as a p h e n o m e n o n very m u c h like language. It has n o codified grammar, it has n o enumerated vocabulary, it doesn't even h a v e very specific rules of usage, so it is very clearly not a language system like written or spoken English; but it nevertheless does perform m a n y of the same functions of communication as language does. It would t h e n be very useful if w e could describe the way film operates with a degree of logical precision. In Chapter 5 w e will discuss h o w the desire to describe a rationaleven scientificstructure for film has been one of the main motivations of film theorists for more t h a n half a century. Since the 1960s, semiotics has presented a n interesting approach to the logical description of the languagelike p h e n o m e n o n of film and the other recording arts. The linguist Ferdinand de Saussure laid the groundwork for semiotics in the early years of this century. Saussure's simple, yet elegant, idea was to view language as simply one of a n u m b e r of systems of codes of communication. Linguistics, then, becomes simply one area of the more general study of systems of signs"semiotics" (or "semiology"). Film m a y not have grammar, but it does have systems of "codes." It does not, strictly speaking, have a vocabulary, but it does have a system of signs. It also uses the systems of signs and codes of a n u m b e r of other communication systems. Any musical code, for instance, can be represented in the music of film. Most painterly codes, and most narrative codes, can also be represented in film. M u c h of the preceding discussion of the relationship b e t w e e n film a n d t h e other arts could be quantified by describing the codes that exist in those other arts that can be translated into film as opposed to those that cannot. Remember Frost: "Poetry is what gets lost in translation." So the genius of a n art m a y be just those codes that don't work well in any other art. Yet while the code system of semiotics goes a long w a y toward making possible a m o r e precise description of h o w film does w h a t it does, it is limited in that it more or less insists that w e reduce film, like language, to basic discrete units that can b e quantified. Like linguistics, semiotics is n o t especially well adapted to describing t h e complete, metaphysical effect of its subject. It describes the language, or system of c o m m u n i c a t i o n , of film very well. B u t it does not easily describe the artistic activity of film. A term borrowed from literary criticism may be useful in this respect: "trope." Generally, in literary criticism t h e t e r m "trope" is used to m e a n "figure of speech": that is, a "turn" of phrase in w h i c h language is b e n t so that it reveals more t h a n literal meanings. The concepts of code and sign describe the elements of the "language" of a n art; the concept of trope is necessary to describe the often very u n u s u a l a n d illogical w a y those codes a n d signs are used to produce new,
Figure 2 - 1 . This da Vinci drawing suggests the bond between visualization and invention, art and technology.
good work in both fields, a communion that belies the modern conception of the two fields as m u t u a l l y antagonistic, nevertheless o n e can study the history of painting without ever having gained any knowledge of h o w oils differ from acrylics, and students of literature can certainly succeed in mastering the basic history of literature without having studied the operation of the Linotype or the offset press. This is not the case with film. The great artistic contribution of the industrial age, the recording arts-film, sound recording, and photographyare inherently dependent o n a complex, ingenious, and ever more sophisticated technology. No o n e can ever h o p e to c o m p r e h e n d fully the way their effects are accomplished w i t h o u t a basic understanding of the technology that makes t h e m possible, as well as its underlying science.
Image
Technology
The invention of photography in the early nineteenth century marks an important line of division between the pretechnological era and the present. The basic artistic impulses that drive us to mimic nature were essentially the same both before and after that time, but the augmented technical capacity to record and reproduce sounds and images of the twentieth century presents us with an exciting n e w set of choices. Previously w e were limited by our o w n physical abilities: the musician created s o u n d s by b l o w i n g or s t r u m m i n g or singing; t h e p a i n t e r w h o c a p t u r e d real images depended entirely on his o w n eye to perceive them; the novelist and the
Figure 2-2. AURAL AND VISUAL RECORDING SYSTEMS. In order to record and reproduce sounds and images, recording technology must translate aural and visual information into physical or electronic "language-systems." The variable-area soundtrack (A), an analogue system, translates the frequency (pitch) and amplitude (volume) of sounds into regular patterns of light. The loudest sound is represented by the widest light band. The variable-area soundtrack is an elegant visualization of wave m e c h a n ics. (See Chapter 6.) Vinyl record grooves (B) translate audio information into analogous physical waveforms. This section of a 3 3 1/3 r p m disc is approximately 5 c m by 2 c m . Each groove section pictured carries about 1/4-second of music (in this case, Duke Ellington), and since this is a stereo record, each groove carries two channels of information, one on each side of the groove. Magnetic audiotape (C) encodes information electromagnetically; as a result, the signal c a n not be seen here as it can in A and B above. The visible lines are simply signs of wear. The section of professional reel-to-reel tape shown carries slightly more than 1/20 second of information at a normal speed of 7 1/2 inches per second. In normal stereo recording this 1/4-inch-wide tape might carry four parallel channels (two in each direction). This 1 0 - m m section of a contemporary digital audio c o m p a c t disc (D) represents 2 0 8 seconds of stereo music (Susannah McCorkle), encoded as microscopic pits in the substrate. The CD format represents a significant advance in information density.
Visual information
is far
more
complex than aural information and therefore more difficult to encode. Because there is vastly more information to represent, visual encoding is bit-oriented and often binary. In other words, the information is broken into discrete quanta ("bits") and each "bit" of information can have either of two values: "yes" or "no," "black" or "white." The most flexible of the three c o m m o n systems of visual encoding is photography. Figure E is an enlargement of a section of standard 8" x 10" black-and-white print, 15 m m high. The grain is clearly visible. Remember that in order to reproduce the photograph as you see it, a printer's halftone screen has had to be imposed. Figure F shows the same section of the same photograph as it was reproduced in a book. The halftone screen analyzes the variable information present in the photographic grain into black-and-white dot patterns. In this case, the screen size was 133 lines per inch. Notice that the white mark in the black area to the right (an imperfection in the photograph) has nearly disappeared in the halftone reproduction. Furthermore, in both Figure E and Figure F you are viewing this representation of a photograph with a halftone screen through the coarse filter of a computer screen. Although the resolution of your screen is most likely about 7 2 pixels per inch, so-called "dithering" or "anti-aliasing" techniques allow us to approximate the feel of the printed version. You may want to compare these illustrations to the actual printed versions. Figure G shows a section of color television screen. An NTSC standard American television screen is c o m posed of 2 1 0 , 0 0 0 of these bits of information, red, green, and blue dots arranged in patterns of 3 0 to 9 0 lines per i n c h m u c h cruder than the halftone screen in E.
Figure 2-3. This version of the camera obscura reflected the incoming light to a screen at the top of the box so that an artist could trace the image. If the pinhole is sufficiently small, an image will be projected. The optical principle is described in Figure 2-9. Museum of Photography, George Eastman House.) {International
poet, not engaged physically in their art, w e r e limited in describing events or characters by their o w n powers of observation. Recording technology n o w offers us the opportunity of capturing a representation of sounds, images, and events and transmitting t h e m directly to the observer without the necessary interposition of the artist's personality and talents. A n e w channel of communication has been opened, equal in importance to written language. Although the camera did not come into practical use until the early nineteenth century, efforts to create such a magical tool, which would record reality directly, dated from much earlier. The camera obscura (Figure 2-3), the grandfather of the photographic camera, dates from the Renaissance. Da Vinci had described the principle, and the first published account of the usefulness of the invention dates from 1558, the year in which Giovanni Battista della Porta published his book Natural Magic. There are even references dating back as far as the tenth-century Arabic astronomer Al Hazen. The camera obscura (literally "dark room") is based o n a simple optical rule, but it includes all the elements of the basic contemporary photographic camera except one: film, the m e d i u m o n which the projected image is recorded. Louis Daguerre is usually credited with the first practical development of such a m e d i u m in i 8 3 9 , b u t his colleague Joseph Niepce h a d d o n e m u c h valuable w o r k before h e died in i 8 3 3 , a n d m a y be credited, as B e a u m o n t Newhall has
Art a n d Technology
Figure 2-4. The camera lucida consisted of a lens arrangement that enabled the artist to view subject and drawing paper in the same "frame," and thus simply outline the image that appeared to be projected on the paper. {International Eastman House.) Museum of Photography, George
noted, with the first "successful experiment to fix the image of nature" in i 8 2 7 . William Henry Fox Talbot was working simultaneously along similar lines: modern photography has developed from his system of negative recording and positive reproduction. Daguerre, w h o s e recording photographic plate was positive and therefore not reproducible (except through being photographed itself), had reached a deadend; the daguerreotype marked the end of a line of technological development, not the beginning of one. But Fox Talbot's negative permitted infinite reproductions. The paper negative was soon replaced by the flexible collodion film negative, which not only marked a distinct improvement in the quality of the image but also suggested a line of development for the recording of motion pictures. Like the still camera, the motion picture camera was not without its antecedents. The Magic Lantern, capable of projecting an image onto a screen, dates from t h e s e v e n t e e n t h century a n d was quickly adapted to photographic use in the 1850s. The production of the illusion of motion was made possible in a very crude w a y by the so-called Magic Discs of the f 830s and the more sophisticated Zoetrope (Figure 2-6), patented in i 8 3 4 by William Horner (although precursors of the Zoetrope m a y date to antiquity), fn the 1870s Eadweard Muybridge, working in California, and Etienne Jules Marey, in France, began their experiments in m a k i n g p h o t o g r a p h i c records of m o v e m e n t . Emile R e y n a u d ' s Praxinoscope
Figure 2-5. PHOTOGRAPHIC SYSTEMS. The negative-positive system (right) of the Talbottype, Collotype, and modern photography permits infinite reproduction of the image. The direct positive system of the early Daguerreotype (left) creates a single, iconic image. Contemporary "instant photograph" systems such as Polaroid also produce direct positives and are therefore comparable to the Daguerreotype.
(f877) was t h e first practicable device for projecting successive images o n a screen, in f 889 George Eastman applied for a patent on his flexible photographic film, developed for the roll camera, and the last basic element of cinematography was in place. By 1895 all these elements had been combined, and movies were born.
Sound
Technology
The technology of sound recording developed more rapidly. Edison's p h o n o graph, which does for sounds what the camera/projector system does for images, dates from f 877. fn m a n y ways it is a more extraordinary invention than cinematography, since it has n o antecedents to speak of. The desire to capture and reproduce still pictures predated the development of moving pictures by m a n y years, but there is n o such thing as a "still" sound, so the development of sound recording, of necessity, took place all at once.
Art a n d Technology
Figure 2-6. THE ZOETROPE. The cylinder was s p u n ; the images on the inside of the d r u m were viewed through the slots opposite t h e m , creating the illusion of motion. {International Photography, Museum of George Eastman House.)
Equally as important as the phonograph, although not often mentioned in histories of the recording arts, is Bell's t e l e p h o n e (1876). It presages the regular transmission of sounds and images whose technology provided us with radio and television but, more important, Bell's invention also shows h o w electrical signals can be made to serve the purposes of sound recording. Edison's original phonograph was an entirely physical-mechanical invention, w h i c h gave it the virtue of simplicity but also seriously delayed technological progress in t h e field. In a sense, t h e p u r e l y m e c h a n i c a l p h o n o g r a p h , like Daguerre's positive photograph, was technically a deadend. It was not until the mid-1920s that Bell's theories of the electrical transmission of sound were united with the technology of the mechanical phonograph. At almost precisely the same time, sound recordings were united with image recordings to produce the cinema as w e k n o w it today. ft is interesting to conjecture w h e t h e r there would have been any period of silent cinema at all had Edison not invented a mechanical phonograph: in that case it's quite possible that Edison (or another inventor) would have turned to Bell's t e l e p h o n e as a m o d e l for the p h o n o g r a p h a n d t h e electrical system of recording sound would have developed m u c h earlier, more than likely in time to be of service to the first filmmakers. It is worth noting that Thomas Edison himself conceived of his Kinetograph as an adjunct to the phonograph. As h e put it in i894: In the year 1887, the idea occurred to m e that it was possible to devise an instrument which should do for the eye what the phonograph does for
Figure 2-7. Edison's Kinetoscope was a private viewing machine. The film was formed in a continuous loop running around rollers in the base of the machine: no need to rewind before the next showing! (MOMA/FSA.)
the ear, and that by a combination of the two all motion and sound could be recorded and reproduced simultaneously. William Kennedy Laurie Dickson, an English assistant to Edison w h o did m u c h of the development work, describes Edison's first conception of the Kinetograph as parallel in structure and conception with his successful phonograph: Edison's idea ... was to combine the phonograph cylinder or record with a similar or larger drum on the same shaft, which drum was to be covered with pin-point microphotographs which of course must synchronize with the phonograph record. This configuration, of course, did not succeed, but the ideal union of sound and image was suggested. Indeed, after Dickson had turned to the n e w perforated Eastman continuous roll film, h e continued to think of the moving pictures as necessarily joined with the sound record; his first demonstration of his success to Edison on October 6, 1889, was a "talkie." Dickson called this device a "Kinetophone." Edison had just returned from a trip abroad. Dickson ushered him into * Quoted in W. K. L. Dickson, "A Brief History of the Kinetograph, the Kinetoscope, and the Kineto-Phonograph," in Raymond Fielding's A Technological History of Motion Pictures and Television, p.9.
Art a n d Technology
Figure 2-8. Ladies and gentlemen a m u s i n g themselves at the Kinetoscope parlor at 28th Street and Broadway, circa 1895. That's a bust of the modest inventor, prominent in the foreground. (MOMA/FSA.)
the projecting room and started the machine. He appeared on the small screen, walked forward, raised his hat, smiled, and spoke directly to his audience: "Good morning, Mr. Edison, glad to see you back. Hope you like the Kinetophone. To show the synchronization I will lift m y hand and count u p to ten." These words, less well known, should certainly rank with Bell's telephonic "Mr. Watson, come here, I want to see you" and Morse's telegraphic "What hath God wrought?" Because of the technical problems posed by Edison's mechanical recording systemmainly synchronizationthe effective marriage of sound and image did not occur until thirty years later, but the desire to reproduce sound and image in concert existed from the earliest days of film history. By 1 9 0 0 , all the basic tools of the n e w technological arts had been invented: the painter had the alternative of the still camera; the musician the alternative of the phonograph; and novelists and theater folk were contemplating the exciting possibilities of motion pictures. Each of these records could be reproduced in large quantities and therefore reach large numbers of people. Although the technology of broadcasting was still a few years in the future, workable methods of instantaneous communication had been demonstrated by the telephone and the telegraph; in fact, w e are n o w realizing, as cable technology develops, that wired
Diagram E
At any one of these stages variables can be introduced to give a n artist more control over the process. Within each area of the chart there is a large n u m b e r of factors, each of which has a discernible effect o n the finished product, and these factors interact with each other, and between areas, to create a n excitingly complex technology. Indeed, n o small part of the appreciation of the activity of filmmaking as well as the product lies in a n understanding of the technical challenges that filmmakers must surmount.
The Lens
The earliest of cameras, the camera obscura, consisted of a light-tight box with a pinhole in one side. Contemporary cameras, both still and motion picture, operate on the same principle: the box is more precisely machined; photosensitive, flexible film has replaced the drawing paper as the "screen" upon which the image falls; but the greatest changes have taken place in the pinhole. That crude optical device has evolved into a complex system of great technical sophistication. So m u c h depends u p o n the glass eye of the lens through which w e all eventually view a photograph or a film that it must be regarded as the heart of photographic art.
The Lens
Figure 2-9. LENSES. If there is no lens to focus the rays of light c o m i n g from the subject, no image will be produced (left): all rays from all points will strike all parts of the photosensitive plate or film. The convex lens (center) bends the rays from each single point so that they c o n verge on the "focus plane" a certain distance behind it. The image created is reversed right to left and top to bottom. (A transparent negative c a n then be turned to create the proper leftright orientation in the print.) A pinhole, if it is small e n o u g h , will act like a convex lens to give a rough focus. This is the elementary principle w h i c h led to the invention of the Camera Obscura (see Figure 2-3). The concave lens (right) causes the rays to diverge in such a way that an observer perceives an "apparent," or "virtual," image w h i c h seems smaller than the actual object. The diagrams below the drawings schematically indicate the principles.
Here is the basic idea of the technology of optics: Because light travels at different speeds in different mediums, light rays bend w h e n they pass from o n e medium to another. Lenses made out of glass or other transparent materials can then focus those rays. While the lens of the human eye is continuously variable, changing in shape each time w e unconsciously refocus from o n e object to another, photographic lenses can only perform the specific tasks for which they are painstakingly designed. A photographer has three basic types of lenses available to him. These three general categories of lenses are usually classified according to their focal length: the distance from the plane of the film to the surface of the lens. Although a lens is usually chosen specifically for the subject it must photograph, there are various ancillary characteristics to each lens that have become valuable esthetic tools for the photographer. For cameras that use 35 m m film, the "normal" lens has a focal length roughly between 35 and 50 mm. This lens is the most common choice for the photographer because it distorts least and therefore most closely mimics the way the human eye perceives reality. The wide-angle lens, as its name indicates, photographs a wide angle of view. A photographer finding himself in a cramped location would naturally use this
The Lens
Figure 2 - 1 0 . W I D E - A N G L E , " N O R M A L , " AND TELEPHOTO L E N S E S . Nearly all modern photographic lenses are more complicated than the simple lenses shown in Figure 2-9. Most are c o m p o s e d of sets of elements, s u c h as those w h i c h are schematized at the bottom of this diagram. The 2 8 m m , 5 0 m m , and 135 m m lenses are c o m m o n wide-angle, " n o r m a l , " a n d "telephoto" lenses in 3 5 m m photography, whether motion picture or still. Each of the three lenses is seeing the same arrangement of four columns from the same distance a n d perspective. The frames at the top are exact visualizations of the various images of the scene each lens produces. The wide-angle lens image appears to be taken from a greater distance; the telephoto image is greatly magnified. Notice the slight linear distortion in the wide-angle image and the "flat" quality of the telephoto image. In 3 5 m m photography, the 5 0 m m lens is c o n sidered " n o r m a l " because it best approximates the way the naked eye perceives a scene. (Compare Figure 3-59.)
Alfred Hitchcock spent decades working on this problem before he finally solved it in the famous tower shot from Vertigo (1958) by using a carefully controlled zoom combined with a track and models. Hitchcock laid the model stairwell on its side. The camera with zoom lens was mounted on a track looking "down" the stairwell. The shot began with the camera at the far end of the track and the zoom lens set at a moderate telephoto focal length. As the camera tracked in toward the stairwell, the zoom was adjusted backwards, eventually winding up at a wide-angle setting. The track and zoom were carefully coordinated so that the size of the image appeared not to change. (As the track moved in on the center of
Figure 2 - 1 1 . Providing an ultimate e m b l e m for Hitchcock's life and work, the tower scene from Vertigo forged a union of technology and psychology. The camera tracks in and zooms out to distort our perception of depth without changing the range of the frame. {Frame enlargements.)
the image, the zoom moved out to correct for the narrowing field.) The effect relayed on the screen was that the shot began with n o r m a l depth perception which then became quickly exaggerated, mimicking the psychological feeling of vertigo. Hitchcock's shot cost $i 9,000 for a few seconds of film time. Steven Spielberg used a similar combined track-and-zoom in Jaws (1975) to add to the sense of apprehension. Perhaps the most interesting application of this unusual technique was in the diner scene from Goodfellas (1990). Director Martin Scorsese used it through the tense scene between Robert De Niro and Ray Liotta to heighten the audience's sense of dread. To summarize: the shorter the lens, the wider the angle of view (the larger the field of view), the more exaggerated the perception of depth, the greater the linear distortion; the longer the lens, the narrower the angle of view, the shallower the depth perception. Standard lenses are variable in two ways: the photographer adjusts the focus of the lens (by varying the relationship between its elements), and he controls the a m o u n t of light entering the lens. There are three ways to vary the a m o u n t of light that enters the camera and strikes the film: the photographer can interpose light-absorbing material in the path of the light rays (filters do this and are generally attached in front of the lens), he can change exposure time (the shutter controls this), or he can change the aperture, the size of the hole through which the light passes (the diaphragm controls this aspect).
The Lens
Figure 2-12. WIDE-ANGLE DISTORTION. Anna Karina in Jean-Luc Godard's Pierrot le fou (1965). {I'Avant-Scene. Frame enlargement.)
Filters are generally used to alter the quality of the light entering the camera, not its quantity, and are therefore a minor factor in this equation. Aperture and exposure time are the main factors, closely related to each other and to focus. The diaphragm works exactly like the iris of the h u m a n eye. Since film, more so t h a n the retina of the eye, has a limited range of sensitivity, it is crucial to be able to control the a m o u n t of light striking the film. The size of the aperture is measured in f-stops, numbers derived by dividing the focal length of a particular lens by its effective aperture (the ratio of the length of a lens to its width, in other words). The result of this mechanical formula is a series of standard n u m b e r s whose relationship, at first, seems arbitrary:
These numbers were chosen because each successive f-stop in this series will admit half the a m o u n t of light of its predecessor; that is, an f 1 aperture is twice as "large" as an fl.4 aperture, and f2.8 admits four times as m u c h light as f5.6. The numbers have been rounded off to a single decimal place; the multiplication factor is approximately 1.4, the square root of 2. The speed of a lens is rated by its widest effective aperture. A lens 50 m m long that was also 50 m m wide would, then, be rated as an f 1 lens; that is, a very "fast" lens that at its widest opening would admit twice as m u c h light as an f 1.4 lens and four times as m u c h light as a n f2 lens. W h e n Stanley Kubrick decided that he w a n t e d to shoot m u c h of Barry Lyndon (1975) by the light of a few eighteenthcentury candles, it was necessary that h e adapt to movie use a special lens the
Figure 2 - 1 3 . TELEPHOTO DISTORTION. A shot from Robert Altman's Buffalo Indians (1976). Bill's posse is at least a half mile from the camera.
Bill and
the
Zeiss c o m p a n y had developed for NASA for space photography. The lens was rated at f 0 . 9 , while the fastest lenses then in general use in cinematography were ft.2s. The small difference between the two numbers (0.3) is deceiving for, in fact, Kubrick's NASA lens admitted nearly twice as m u c h light as the standard f 1.2 lens. Since the development of these ultrafast lenses filmmakers have had powerful n e w tools at their c o m m a n d , a l t h o u g h only knowledgeable filmgoers might notice the n e w effects that are possible. Fast lenses are also important economically, since lighting is one of the most time-consuming and therefore expensive parts of filmmaking. Modern amateur cinematographers expect their Camcorders to record a decent image n o matter what the light, and most do; only the professionals k n o w h o w r e m a r k a b l e a technical feat this is. A c o n t e m p o r a r y CCD ("charge-coupled device") Camcorder is so effective at amplifying the light the lens transmits that it can serve as a night-vision scope, m o r e efficient t h a n the h u m a n eye. The concept of the f-number is misleading, not only because the series of n u m bers that results doesn't vividly indicate the differences among various apertures, but also because, being a ratio of physical sizes, the f-number is not necessarily an accurate index of the actual amount of light entering the camera. The surfaces of
The Lens
Figure 2 - 1 4 . This frame enlargement from Godard's "Camera-Eye" (1967) clearly shows the effect of rapid zooming d u r i n g the shot. The blurred lines a i m toward the center of the image. Most zooms do not occur quickly enough to blur individual frames like this. Frame enlargement) (I'Avant-Scene.
lens elements reflect small a m o u n t s of light, the elements themselves absorb small quantities; in complex multi-element lenses (especially zoom lenses) these differences can add up to a considerable amount. To correct for this, the concept of "T-number" was developed. The T-number is a precise electronic measurement of the a m o u n t of light actually striking the film. Changing the size of the diaphragm"stopping down"because it effectively changes the diameter of the lens also changes the depth of field: the smaller the diameter of the lens opening, the greater the precision of focus. The result is that the more light there is available, the greater the depth of field. The phrase "depth of field" is used to indicate the range of distances in front of the lens that will appear satisfactorily in focus. If w e were to measure depth of field with scientific accuracy, a lens would only truly be in focus for one single plane in front of the camera, the focus plane. But a photographer is interested not in scientific reality but in psychological reality, and there is always a range of distances both in front of and behind the focus plane that will appear to be in focus. We should also n o t e at this point that various types of lenses h a v e various depth-of-field characteristics: a wide-angle lens has a very deep depth of field, while a telephoto lens has a rather shallow depth of field. Remember, too, that as
Figure 2-15. THE D I A P H R A G M . One of the simplest elements of the photographic system, as well as one of the most important, the diaphragm is constructed of wafer-thin, spring-loaded metal leavesusually five or six in n u m b e r w h i c h overlap each other so that the size of the aperture can be accurately adjusted.
each particular lens is stopped down, as the aperture is narrowed, the effective depth of field increases. F i l m m a k e r s a n d p h o t o g r a p h e r s are t h u s p r e s e n t e d w i t h a complex set of choices regarding lenses. The style of photography that strives for sharp focus over t h e w h o l e range of action is called deep focus photography. While there are a n u m b e r of exceptions, deep focus is generally closely associated with theories of realism in film while shallow focus photography, which welcomes the limitations of depth of field as a useful artistic tool, is m o r e often utilized by expressionist filmmakers, since it offers still another technique that can be used to direct the viewer's attention. A director can change focus during a shot either to maintain focus on a subject moving away from or toward the camera (in which case the term is follow focus) or to direct the viewer to shift attention from one subject to another (which is called rack focus).
The Camera
The camera provides a mechanical environment for the lens, which accepts and controls light, and the film, which records light. The heart of this mechanical device is the shutter, which provides the second means available to the photographer for controlling the a m o u n t of light that strikes the film. Here, for the first time, w e find a significant difference between still and movie photography. For still photographers, shutter speed is invariably closely linked with aperture size. If
The Camera
they want to photograph fast action, still photographers will probably decide first to use a fast shutter speed to "freeze" the action, and will compensate for the short exposure time by opening u p the aperture to a lower f-stop (which will have the effect of narrowing the depth of field). If, however, they desire the effect of deep focus, still photographers will narrow the aperture ("stop down"), which will then require a relatively long exposure time (which will in turn mean that any rapid action within the frame might be blurred). Shutter speeds are measured in fractions of a second and in still photography are closely linked with corresponding apertures. For instance, the following linked pairs of shutter speeds and apertures will allow the same amount of light to enter the camera:
In m o t i o n picture photography, however, t h e speed of the shutter is determined by the agreed-upon standard twenty-four frames per second necessary to synchronize camera and projector speed. Cinematographers, therefore, are strictly limited in their choice of shutter speeds, although they can control exposure time
Figure 2-17. F O C U S A N D DEPTH OF F I E L D . Lenses bend light rays in such a way that only one plane in front of the lens is truly and
True focus plane
accurately in focus. The dotted line in these five drawings represents that true focus plane. However, psychologically, a certain range of distances in front and in back of the focus plane will appear satisfactorily in focus. This "depth of field" is represented here by the shaded areas. In A, an object point on the precise focus plane produces the narrowest "circle of confusion" on the film plane behind the lens. In B, an object point at the far end of the range of depth of field produces the largest acceptable circle of c o n fusion. For objects beyond this point, the circle of confusion is such that the eye and brain read the image as being "out of focus." In C, an object point at the near boundary of depth of field produces a similarly acceptable circle of confusion. Objects nearer to the lens than this will produce an outof-focus circle of confusion. D and E illustrate the effect of aperture size (or diaphragm setting) on depth of field. The narrower aperture in D yields a greater depth of field, while the larger aperture in E limits the depth of field. In both illustrations, points at the near and far end of the depth of field range produce equal, acceptable circles of confusion. In all five drawings depth of field has been slightly reduced for illustrative purposes. The calculation of the depth of field of a particular lens and aperture is a simple matter of geometry. Generally, depth of field extends toward infinity. It is m u c h more critical in the near range than the far.
The Camera
Figure 2-18. SHALLOW FOCUS. Characters are sharply in focus, background is blurred in this shot from Kubrick's Paths of Glory (1957). (MOMA/FSA.)
within narrow limits by using a variable shutter, which controls not the time the shutter is open, but rather the size of the opening. Clearly, the effective upper limit in cinematography is 1/24 second. Since the film must travel through the projector at that speed, there is no way in normal cinematography of increasing exposure time beyond that limit. This m e a n s that cinematographers are effectively deprived of one of the most useful tools of still photography: there are n o "time exposures" in normal movies. Focal length, linear distortion, distortion of depth perspective, angle of view, focus, aperture, depth of field, and exposure time: these are the basic factors of photography, both movie and still. A large n u m b e r of variables are linked together, and each of t h e m has m o r e than one effect. The result is, for example, that w h e n a photographer wants deep focus he decreases the size of the aperture, but that means that less light will enter the camera so that he must add artificial light to illuminate the subject sufficiently, b u t t h a t m i g h t p r o d u c e u n d e s i r a b l e side effects, so, to c o m p e n s a t e , h e will increase exposure time, but this m e a n s that it will be more difficult to obtain a clear, sharp image if either the camera or the subject is moving, so he may decide
Figure 2 - 1 9 . DEEP FOCUS. One of the more extraordinary deep-focus shots photographed by Gregg Toland for Orson Welles's Citizen (MOMA/FSA.) Kane (1941). The focus reaches from the ice sculptures in the near foreground to the furniture piled up behind the table at the rear.
to switch to a wider-angle lens in order to include more area in the frame, but this might m e a n that he will lose the composition h e was trying to achieve in the first place. In photography, m a n y decisions h a v e to be m a d e consciously that the h u m a n eye and brain make instantly and unconsciously. In movies, the camera becomes involved in two variables that do not exist in still photography: it moves the film, and it itself moves. The transport of the film might seem to be a simple matter, yet this was the last of the multiple problems to be solved before motion pictures became feasible. The mechanism that moves the film properly t h r o u g h the camera is k n o w n as the "pull-down mechanism" or "intermittent motion mechanism." The problem is that film, unlike audiotape or videotape, c a n n o t r u n continuously t h r o u g h the camera at a constant speed. Films are series of still pictures, twenty-four per second, a n d the intermittent motion mechanism must move the film into position for the exposure of a frame, hold it in position rock steady for almost 1/24 second, then move the next frame into position, ft must do this twenty-four times each second, and it must accomplish this mechanical task in strict synchronization with the revolving shutter that actually exposes the film.
The Camera
Figure 2-20. THE VARIABLE SHUTTER. Instill photography, the shutter is simply a springloaded metal plate or fabric screen. In motion-picture photography, however, the time of exposure is limited by the 24-frame-per-second standard speed. The variable shutter allows some leeway in exposure time. Although it revolves always at the same 2 4 fps speed, the size of the "hole" and therefore the time of the exposure can be varied by adjusting the overlapping plates.
In the U.S., Thomas Armat is usually credited with inventing the first workable pull-down mechanism in 1895. In Europe, other inventorsnotably the Lumiere brothersdeveloped similar devices. The pull-down mechanism is literally the heart of cinema, since it pumps film through the camera or projector. The key to the success of this system of recording and projecting a series of still images that give the appearance of continuous m o v e m e n t lies in what Ingmar Bergman calls a certain "defect" in h u m a n sight: "persistence of vision." The brain holds an image for a short period of time after it has disappeared, so it is possible to construct a machine that can project a series of still images quickly e n o u g h so that they merge psychologically and the illusion of motion is maintained. Al Hazen had investigated this p h e n o m e n o n in his book Optical Elements, as early as the t e n t h century. N i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y scientists such as Peter M a r k Roget a n d Michael Faraday did valuable work on the theory as early as the 1820s. During
the early years of this century Gestalt psychologists further refined this concept, giving it the n a m e "Phi-phenomenon." As it happens, a speed of at least twelve or fifteen pictures per second is necessary, and a rate of about forty pictures per second is m u c h more effective. Early experimentersW. K. L. Dickson for oneshot at speeds approaching forty-eight frames per second to eliminate the "flicker" effect c o m m o n at slower speeds. It quickly became evident, however, that the flicker could be avoided by the use of a double-bladed projection shutter, and this has b e e n in c o m m o n use since the early days of film. The effect is that, while the film is shot at twenty-four frames per second, it is s h o w n in such a way that the projection of each frame is interrupted once, producing a frequency of forty-eight "frames" per second and thus eliminating flicker. Each frame is actually projected twice. During the silent periodespecially during the earliest years w h e n both cameras and projectors were hand-crankedvariable speeds were common: both the cameraman and the projectionist thus had a degree of control over the speed of
The Camera
Figure 2-22.
THE REFLEX CAMERA. The feed and take-up reels are housed in a separate
magazine which can be changed easily and quickly. The feed and take-up sprockets run continuously. Intermittent motion in this machine is provided by a c a m - m o u n t e d claw mechanism rather than the more complicated Maltese cross system illustrated in Figure 2-21. The heart of the reflex camera is the mirrored shutter. Tilted at a 45 angle to the light path, this ingenious device permits the camera operator to see precisely the same scene through the viewfinder that the film "sees." W h e n the shutter is open, all light strikes the film. When the shutter is closed, all light is redirected into the viewfinder. The reflex camera has almost entirely replaced earlier systems with separate viewfinders, both in still and motion picture photography.
the action. The average silent speed was between sixteen and eighteen frames per second, gradually increasing over the years to twenty and twenty-two frames per second. Twenty-four frames per second did not become an immutable standard until 1927 (although even n o w it is not entirely universal: European television films are shot at twenty-five frames per second in order to synchronize with the European television system, whose frequency is twenty-five frames per second). W h e n silent films are projected at "sound speed," as they often are nowadays, the effect is to m a k e the speeded-up action appear even m o r e comical t h a n it was originally. The effect of frequency is not to be underestimated. Because we grow up inundated with motion-picture and television images in the 24 fps to 30 fps range (or 48 fps to 60 fps projected), we learn to accept this moving-picture quality as stan-
The Camera
Figure 2 - 2 3 . T I M E - L A P S E P H O T O G R A P H Y . Because film can compress (and expand) time, as a scientific tool it serves purposes similar to the microscope and telescope. Archive Films. Frame enlargements.) {Courtesy
Figure 2-24. Slow motion is occasionally useful in narrative films, as well. This frame from the sequence in extreme slow motion that climaxes Michelangelo Antonioni's Zabriskie Point Sound.
(1969) captures
Frame
some of the ironic, lyrical freedom of the explosion fantasy. {Sight and
enlargement.)
quickly than real time. The term "time lapse" is used simply to refer to extremely fast motion photography in which the camera operates intermittently rather than continuouslyat a rate of one frame every minute, for example. Time-lapse photography is especially useful in the natural sciences, revealing details about phenomena like phototropism, for example, that n o other laboratory technique could show. It doesn't take m a n y viewings of slow- and fast-motion films made with primarily scientific purposes in m i n d before it becomes obvious that t h e variable speed of the motion picture camera reveals poetic truths as well as scientific ones. If the slow-motion love scene has become one of the hoariest cliches of contemporary cinema while the comedic value of fast-motion early silent movies has become a truism, it is also true that explosions in extreme slow motion (for example, the final sequence of Antonioni's Zabriskie Point, 1969) become symphonic
The Camera
the 1990s was the quick-cut, jittery, hand-held exaggeration exploited in so m a n y television commercials. The more things change, the more they remain the same. For nearly fifteen years, hand-held shots, while inexpensive and popular, were also obvious. Shaky camera work became a cliche of the sixties. Then, in the early seventies, a c a m e r a m a n n a m e d Garrett B r o w n developed t h e system called "Steadicam" working in conjunction with engineers from Cinema Products, Inc. Since then, this m e t h o d of filming has gained wide popularity a n d has significantly streamlined the filmmaking process. In terms of economic utility, it ranks right u p there with ultrafast lenses, since laying tracks is the second most timeconsuming activity in film production (and the Steadicam eliminates them). In the Steadicam system, a vest is used to redistribute the weight of the camera to the hips of the camera operator. A spring-loaded a r m damps the motion of the
Figure 2 - 2 6 . Ingmar Bergman with bulky Mitchell camera on the set of Hour of the Woli (1966), L i v U l l m a n n t o the left.
camera, providing an image steadiness comparable to m u c h more elaborate (and expensive) tracking and dolly shots. Finally, a video m o n i t o r frees the camera operator from the eyepiece, further increasing control of the hand-held walking shot. Steadicam operators are among the unsung artistic heroes of the film profession. Most are trained athletes; the work they do is a prodigious combination of weightlifting and ballet. Ironically, the better they do it, the less you notice. Even a lightweight camera is a bulky device w h e n placed on a standard crane. In the mid-seventies, French filmmakers Jean-Marie Lavalou and Alain Masseron constructed a device they called a "Louma." Essentially a lightweight crane very m u c h like a microphone boom, it allows full advantage to be taken of lightweight cameras. The Louma, precisely controlled by servo-motors, enables the camera to be moved into positions that were impossible before and frees it from the presence of the camera operator by transmitting a video image of the scene from the viewfinder to the cinematographer's location, which can be simply outside a cramped room, or miles away, if necessary. Devices such as the Kenworthy snorkel permit even more m i n u t e control of the camera. As the Louma frees the camera from the bulk of the operator, so the
The Camera
Figure 2 - 2 7 . Stanley Kubrick " h a n d - h o l d i n g " a small Arriflex: the rape scene from A Clockwork Orange (1971). Malcolm McDowell wears the nose.
snorkel frees the lens from the bulk of the camera. There are n o w a n u m b e r of devices that follow the Louma and Kenworthy principlesand one that represents a q u a n t u m leap for the freedom of the camera. Not satisfied with having liberated the camera from tracks and dollies, Garrett Brown developed his "Skycam" system in the mid-1980s. With hindsight the Skycam is an obvious offspring of the Steadicam and the Louma. The system suspends a lightweight camera via wires and pulleys from four posts erected at the four corners of the set or location. The operator sits offset, viewing the action on a monitor and controlling the movement of the camera t h r o u g h controls that c o m m u n i c a t e with t h e cable system via c o m p u t e r programs. Like the Steadicam before it, the Skycam is often most effective w h e n it is least obvious. But on occasion, especially covering sports events, the Skycam provides exhilarating images that are otherwise impossible. Peter Pan never had it so good. With the advent of these devices, most of the constraints imposed on cinematography by the size of the necessary machinery have been eliminated, and the camera approaches the ideal condition of a free-floating, perfectly controllable
LOO
Figure 2-28. THE S T E A D I C A M . Springs d a m p the motion of the camera. The harness provides cantilevered balance.
artificial eye. The perfection of fiber optics technology extended this freedom to the microscopic level; the travels t h r o u g h the various channels of the h u m a n body that were science fiction w h e n they were created by means of special effects in 1967 for the film Fantastic Voyage could, by the mid-seventies, be filmed "on location" for the documentary The Incredible Machine.
The Filmstock
The fundamental principle on which all chemical photography is based is that some substances (mainly silver salts) are photosensitive: that is, they change chemically w h e n exposed to light. If that chemical alteration is visible and can be fixed or frozen, t h e n a reproducible record of visual experience is possible. Daguerreotypes were made on metal plates and required long periods of exposure, measured in minutes, in order to capture an image. Two developments in the technology of photography were necessary before motion pictures became
The discussion of p h o t o c h e m i c a l filmstock t h a t follows also applies, t h e necessary changes being m a d e , to all-electronic p h o t o g r a p h y , w h i c h we'll discuss in greater detail in C h a p t e r 6.
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Figure 2 - 2 9 . THE SKYCAM. Suspended by four wires, the camera and the winches are controlled remotely. {Courtesy Inc.) Skyworks,
possible: a flexible base to carry the photographic emulsion, and an emulsion sensitive or "fast" e n o u g h so that it could be properly exposed within a time period something like 1/20 second. The speed of standard, popular emulsions is n o w such that 1/1000 second is more than adequate exposure time under normal conditions. Not all image-fixing is chemically photographic, however. Television images are electronically produced (although photosensitive and phosphorescent chemicals play a part) and systems used in photocopying (Xerox) machines are also quite different from traditional chemical silver-salt photography. The silver scare of early 1980 when, for a brief period, the price of the metal quintupled, focused renewed attention on non-silver means of photography. Sony introduced the first all-electronic snapshot camera, the Mavica, in 1989. They were a few years ahead of the market; digital cameras did not find consumer acceptance until the late nineties. In 1992 Kodak ( w h o h a v e the most to lose w h e n photography moves from chemistry to electronics) found a transitional form u l a : a c o m p r o m i s e called Photo CD. The well-established a n d easy-to-use chemistry-based film is still used to take the picture. Then the commercial photofinisher transfers the image from film to fully digitized files on a version of a CDROM, which is returned to the customer just as quickly as his paper prints used to be. The customer inserts the disc in any CD-ROM reader that meets the Photo CD standard and views his snapshots on his monitor or television set. As color laser and ink-jet printers drop in price and move into the home, the photo buff is able to m a k e his o w n paper prints, and the darkroom h o m e photo workshop can be replaced by computer software. Already, business software like Adobe Photoshop offers more flexibility than the most advanced photo labs at a
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cheaper price t h a n any basement darkroom. The camera itself has been the last link in the chain to be digitized; the progression is inexorable. Photo-chemistry, n o w well into its second century, is about to be replaced. Indeed, as a consumer technology it has enjoyed a record run of more t h a n one hundred years that may be surpassed only by digital computers. The mechanical wax or vinyl record, second in the consumer technology record book, lasted almost as long before it was replaced by CDs in the late 1980s.
Generations
Since the salts on which chemical photography is based darken w h e n exposed to light, a curious and useful quirk is introduced into the system. Those areas of the photograph that receive most light will appear darkest w h e n the photograph is
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Figure 2 - 3 1 THE LOUMA CRANE. The operator controls the movement of crane and camera via servo-mechanisms while observing the image the camera is taking by television monitor. The crane is capable of very precise changes in direction. A zoom motor attached to the camera can also be remote-controlled. (Photo: P. Brard.)
developed and put through the chemical baths that fix the image permanently. The result is a negative image in which tones are reversed: light is dark and dark is light. A positive print of this negative image can easily be obtained by either contact printing the negative or projecting it on similar filmstock or photographic paper. This makes possible the replication of the image. In addition, w h e n the negative is projected the image can be enlarged, reduced, or otherwise altereda significant advantage. Reversal processing permits the development of a direct, projectable positive image on the "camera original"the filmstock in the camera w h e n the shot is made. Negatives (or reversal positives) can also be printed directly from a reversal print. The camera original is considered to be first generation; a print of it would be second generation; a negative or reversal copy of that, in turn, is third generation. With each successive step, quality is lost. Since the original negative of a film is usually considered too valuable to use in producing as m a n y as t w o t h o u s a n d
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Figure 2-32. An early example of endoscopic fiber optics cinematography: a h u m a n fetus in the w o m b . From The Machine, 1 9 7 5 (PBS). Incredible
prints that might be required for a major release of a feature, the print you see in a theater is often several generations removed from the original:
If complicated laboratory work is required, then several more generations may be added. "CRT stock (color reversal intermediate), developed especially to bridge the intermediate positive stage, lessened the n u m b e r of generations in practice. W h e n large n u m b e r s of prints and laboratory work w e r e not needed, reversal stocks provided a very useful alternative. In the 1970s, w h e n film was still the m e d i u m of choice for television news, and before the all-electronic newsroom became commonplace, the reversal stock that a television n e w s m a n shot at 4 pm, might have been developed at 5 and gone directly into the film chain, still wet, for broadcasting at 6. Amateur cinematographers almost always use reversal films such as Kodachrome or Ektachrome.
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105
'
Figure 2 - 3 3 . STOCK,
PROCESSING,
c o m m o n l y in use today are outlined in this flowchart. American theatrical films usually follow the path of the solid line, w h i c h means that the print audiences see is fourth generation. European theatrical films often are produced along the path of the dotted line: audiences see a second generation print of better quality. A third system, not shown, interposes a "Reversal Intermediate" between the negative and the print. Although 16 m m film production can follow the same patterns, it is also c o m m o n to use Reversal originals, w h i c h can be screened directly. The addition of tape to the equation allows for an even greater variety of inputs and outputs. W h e n the tape is digital the release copies are equivalent to first generation.
This is a broad outline of the basic choices of filmstock available to the filmmaker. In practice, the variety is m u c h greater. The Eastman Kodak company has very nearly a monopoly position in the professional filmstock market in the U.S. (even if it has some distant challengers in the amateur and still film markets) and is d o m i n a n t abroad as well. But Kodak enjoys that m o n o p o l y partly because it produces a large n u m b e r of very useful products. And while the professional filmmaker is effectively limited to Eastman Kodak raw materials, there is a variety of processing techniques available (see the discussion of color below). Yet all these
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Aspect
Ratio
The ratio between the height of the projected image and its widththe aspect ratiois dependent o n the size and shape of the aperture of the camera (and of the projector) and, as we shall see, o n the types of lenses used. But it is not solely a function of the aperture. Early in the history of film, a n arbitrary aspect ratio of four to three (width to height) became popular and was eventually standardized
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107
by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (so that it is n o w k n o w n as the "Academy aperture" or "Academy ratio"). This ratio, more often expressed as 1:1.33 or simply as the 1.33 ratio, while it was undeniably the most common, was never really the sole ratio in use. FilmmakersD. W. Griffith is especially noted for thisoften masked off part of the frame to change the shape of t h e image temporarily. W h e n s o u n d was d e v e l o p e d a n d r o o m h a d to b e m a d e o n t h e edge of t h e filmstock for t h e soundtrack, the square ratio was c o m m o n for a while. A few years later the Acade m y s h r a n k the a m o u n t of space within the potential frame t h a t was actually used in order to regain the 1.33 ratio, a n d this standard gradually developed a mystique, even t h o u g h it was the result of a n arbitrary decision. Some firm textbooks connect the 1.33 ratio with the Golden Section of classical art and architecture, a truly mystical n u m b e r expressive of a ratio found everyw h e r e in nature, often in the strangest places (in the arrangement of the seeds of a sunflower, for example, or the shape of a snail's shell). The Golden Section is derived from the formula a/b = b/(a + b), w h e r e a is the length of the shorter side of the rectangle and b is the length of the longer. While it is a n irrational number,
108
UM)
this Golden Mean can be closely approximated by expressing the ratio of height to width as 1:1.618. This is very close to the most popular E u r o p e a n widescreen ratio in use today, but it is certainly a far cry from the 1.33 ratio of the Academy aperture. While the Academy ratio, arbitrary as it is,* really only dominated for twenty years or so (until 1953), it was during this time that the television frame was standardized on its model; and that, in turn, continues to influence film composition. Widescreen HDTV, however, has an aspect ratio of 16:9 (or 1.777:1), m u c h closer to the Golden Mean. Since the 1950s, filmmakers have been presented with a considerable range of screen ratios to choose from. Two separate methods are used to achieve the widescreen ratios in use today. The simplest method is to mask off the top and bottom of the frame, providing the two most c o m m o n "flat" widescreen ratios: 1.66 (in Europe) and 1.85 (in the U.S.). Masking, however, m e a n s that a m u c h smaller portion of the available film frame is used, resulting in diminished quality of the projected image. In the 1.85 ratio, 36 percent of the total frame area is wasted. The second method of achieving a widescreen ratio, the anamorphic process, became popular in the mid-fifties as "CinemaScope." The first anamorphic process w a s Henri Chretien's "Hypergonar" system, w h i c h was used by Claude
* Cynics will n o t e t h a t t h e A c a d e m y a p e r t u r e is an expression of Pythagoras' t h e o r e m , b u t t h a t is an abstract ideal w h i l e t h e Golden M e a n is a n a t u r a l , organic o n e !
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Figure 2 - 3 6 . D. W. Griffith often masked the image to focus attention, as in this shot from The Birth of a Nation. [Frame enlargement.)
Autant-Lara in 1927 for his film Construire unfeu. In the same year, Abel Gance, working w i t h A n d r e Debrie, developed a multiscreen system not unlike Cinerama for his epic Napoleon. He called this three-projector system Polyvision. A year previously, for their film Chang, Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack had experimented with "Magnascope," which simply enlarged the entire image, much as a magnifying glass would. An anamorphic lens squeezes a wide image into the normal frame dimensions of the film and t h e n unsqueezes the image during projection to provide a picture with the proper proportions. The standard squeeze ratio for the most c o m m o n anamorphic systems (first CinemaScope, n o w Panavision) is 2:ithat is, a subject will appear in the squeezed frame to be half as wide as in reality. The height of the subject is unchanged. Using nearly all the area of the frame available, the earlier anamorphic process obtained a projected image aspect ratio of 2.55; this was later a l t e r e d to 2 . 3 5 , w h i c h is n o w s t a n d a r d , to m a k e r o o m for a n optical soundtrack. While the a n a m o r p h i c system is considerably m o r e efficient t h a n masking, since it utilizes the full frame area available, anamorphic lenses are m u c h more sophisticated optical devices, m u c h more expensive, and more limited in variety than spherical (nonanamorphic) lenses. This results in certain practical limitations
110
Figure 2 - 3 7 . Two tripartite screen arrays from the restoration of Abel Gance's (1927), showing how multiple views can create a single psychological impression. (MOMA/FSA.)
Napoleon
placed o n t h e c i n e m a t o g r a p h e r using an a n a m o r p h i c s y s t e m . In addition, although it seems as if an anamorphic negative contains twice as m u c h horizontal information as a standard negative, the unsqueezing process does amplify grain and inconsistencies along with the image. In other words, the anamorphic lens simply stretches a normal a m o u n t of information to fill a screen twice as wide. The age of widescreen began in September i952 with the release of This Is Cinerama, a successful spectacle whose subject was, in fact, the system that was used to shoot it. Employing stereophonic sound, Cinerama, t h e i n v e n t i o n of Fred Waller, used three cameras and three projectors to cover a huge, curved screen. Like m a n y widescreen systems, it had its roots in a World's Fair exhibit, Waller's "Vitarama," which was used at the 1939^10 Fair in New York and later evolved into the Flexible Gunnery Trainer of World War U. In 1953, the first CinemaScope film, Twentieth Century Fox's The Robe, was released. An anamorphic process rather than a multiprojector extravaganza, Cine m a S c o p e quickly b e c a m e t h e s t a n d a r d w i d e s c r e e n process of t h e 1950s. Techniscope, developed by the Technicolor company, employed a n interesting variation o n the a n a m o r p h i c process. The Techniscope negative was shot with spherical lenses masked to give a widescreen ratio. The camera employed a twohole pull-down mechanism rather than the standard four-hole, thus halving filmstock costs. The negative was then printed through an anamorphic lens, providing a standard anamorphic four-hole pull-down print for projection purposes. While filmmakers had experimented with widescreen systems for many years, it was the economic threat that television posed in the early fifties that finally
The Filmstock
ill
Figure 2-38.
This Is Cinerama.
from the audience. It does a good job of evoking the experience. Note the upturned heads.
made widescreen ratios common. Having bequeathed the arbitrary 1.33 ratio to the n e w television industry, film studios quickly discovered that their most powerful w e a p o n against the n e w art was image size. Because it was so unwieldy, Cinerama quickly fell into disuse. Single camera systems, like CinemaScope and later Panavision, became dominant. Cinerama also engendered the short-lived p h e n o m e n o n of "3-D" or stereoscopic film. Again the system was too inflexible to be successful and was never more than a novelty attraction, although it m a d e a very brief comeback in the 1980s. What was undoubtedly the best film shot in the two-camera 3-D process, Hitchcock's Dial M for Murder (1954), wasn't released in 3-D until 1980. Ironically, 3-D attempted to exploit a n area of film esthetics that was already fairly well expressed by two-dimensional "flat" film. Our sense of the dimensionality of a scene depends, psychologically, upon m a n y factors other t h a n binocular vision: chiaroscuro, movement, focus are all important psychological factors. (See Chapter 3.) Moreover, the three-dimensional technique produced an inherent distortion, which distracted, drawing attention from the subject of the film. These are the twin problems that holography, a m u c h more advanced system of stereoscopic photography, will have to overcome before it can ever be considered a feasible alternative to flat film. The development of the various trick processes of the 1950s had some useful results, however. One of the systems that competed with CinemaScope in those
Figure 2 - 3 9 . The Robe. Victor Mature and friends set against a large landscape and a larger drama. (MOMA/FSA.)
years was Paramount's answer to Fox's process. Vista Vision turned the camera on its side to achieve a wide image with an eight-sprocket-hole pull-down (more precisely, a "pull-across"). The frame, then, was twice the size of a normal 35 m m frame a n d used all the image area available without tricky a n a m o r p h i c lenses. Release prints were made in normal 35 m m configurations. (Technirama, a later development, combined this technique with an anamorphic taking lens with a 1.5 squeeze ratio). Today, filmmakers have at their disposal the array of aspect ratiossome for photography, some for distribution prints, some for bothoutlined in Figure 234. Digital photography, by its very nature, allows all sorts of variations on these themes. W h e n the image is digital any aspect ratio and any vertical and/or horizontal compression scheme can be applied. Similarly, resolutions vary over a wide range. About the only thing that doesn't change in digital photography is the lens: it's still necessary to use curved pieces of glass or plastic to focus the light waves.
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Figure 2 - 4 1 . V I S U A L
DENSITY:
SHOWSCAN.
Showscan marketing brochure demonstrates graphically the superior acuity of that process, w h i c h delivers about ten times as m u c h visual information (represented by the shaded areas) as conventional 3 5 m m film. Both strips represent about 1/8 second of viewing. The 7 0 m m 6 0 fps Showscan film is photographed at 1/125-second per frame; the 3 5 m m 2 4 fps standard film is shot at 1/50-second per frame, so the Showscan image is also sharper. From another point of view, this illustration shows just how little information the standard m e d i u m of film communicates. (Courtesy Showscan.) Compare Figure 2-42.
Grain is also a function of the gauge or size of the filmstock. A standard frame of 3 5 m m film has a n area of slightly m o r e t h a n half a square inch. If it is p r o jected onto a screen that is forty feet wide, it has to fill a n area that is 3 5 0 , 0 0 0 times larger than itselfa prodigious task; a frame of 16 m m film (since the stock is a little m o r e t h a n half as wide as 3 5 m m , t h e area of the frame is four times smaller), if it were to fill the same screen, would have to be magnified 1.4 million times. The graininess of a filmstock, which might never be noticeable if the frame were enlarged to the 8 x 10-inch size that is a standard in still photography, will be thousands of times more noticeable on a motion picture screen. The distance between the observer and the image is another factor to consider. From the back row of a very large theater with a small screen, the image of a 3 5 m m movie might appear in the same perspective as an 8 x 1 0 print held one foot
The Filmstock
Figure 2-42. VISUAL DENSITY: VIDEO VERSUS FILM. We have extrapolated the Showscan illustration to suggest the difference between 35 mm film running at 24 frames per second and 525-line American/Japanese video running at 30 fps (or 625-line European video running at 25 fps). The dimensions of the video frames have been calculated to illustrate the poorer resolution of standard video. It is remarkable that we can construct a visual experience with so little information!
in front of the observer. In that case, the grain would appear to be more or less equivalent. The standard width for motion-picture stock has been 35 m m . Introduced many years ago as suitable only for the amateur filmmaker, 16 m m stock became a useful alternative in the 1960s, as filmstock and processing became more sophisticated. It was used in television film work, especially in Europe, and it is still usable for shooting feature films. The "super 16" format, developed in the early seventies, measurably increased the area of the frame and thus the definition of the image. Both regular and super 16 m m formats are still popular in the world of independent filmmaking. Also, 8 m m film, which had been restricted entirely to amateur use until the 1970s, found some applications in commercial filmmaking for a while, especially in television news and industrial filmmaking. Whatever problems of definition and precision exist in 35 m m are multiplied by a
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117
Figure 2 - 4 3 . CONTRAST RANGE. This series of photographic prints displays a wide range of contrasts from very subtle, narrow grays to nearly pure black and white.
ratio of the screen dimensions, this theory of black-and-white supremacy seems to have been invented after the fact, more an excuse than a premise. This is not to suggest that black-and-white wasn't a great m e d i u m for film artists for m a n y years: certainly it was, and it continues to attract the attention of a few ambitious filmmakers, most notably Martin Scorsese (Raging Bull, 1980), Woody M e n (Manhattan, 1979; Zelig, 1983), and Steven Spielberg (Schindler's List, 1993). Pleasantville (1998) made tension between black-and-white and color its basic esthetic principle. Black-and-white communicates significantly less visual information than color film, and that limitation can have the effect of involving us more deeply in the story, dialogue, and psychology of the film experience instead of the spectacle. From the artist's point of view, the constraint of black-and-white poses a challenge to communicate m o r e with composition, tone, and mise-enscene. Yet filmmakers were experimenting with color, as with sound, from the earliest days of cinematography; only the complicated technology of color film held t h e m back. Between 1900 and 1935, dozens of color systems w e r e introduced and some gained moderate success. M a n y of the "black-and-white" films of the twenties, moreover, used tinted stock to provide a dimension of color. Eastman's Sonochrome catalogue of the late twenties listed such elegant shades as Peachblow, Inferno, Rose Doree, Candle Flame, Sunshine, Purple Haze, Firelight, Fleur de Lis, Azure, Nocturne, Verdante, Acqua Green, Argent, and Caprice! ft was 1935, however, before the Technicolor three-strip process opened u p color photography to the majority of filmmakers.* This system used three separate
* The first Technicolor three-strip film w a s La Cucaracha (1935); t h e first Technicolor feature w a s Becky Sharp, also in t h a t year.
1L8
Figure 2-44. HIGH C O N T R A S T . Blacks and whites are extreme values; the range of grays between is limited. Ingrid Thulin, Jorgen Lindstrom in Ingmar Bergman's The Silence (1963).
strips of film to record the magenta, cyan, and yellow spectrums. In processing, separate relief matrix films w e r e m a d e from each of these negatives, and t h e n w e r e used to transfer each color to the release print in a process very similar to color ink printing. The three-strip system was soon replaced by the "tri-pack" system, in which all three negatives were combined in layers on one strip. In 1952 Eastman Kodak introduced a color negative material with a system of masking that improved color renditions in the final print, and Technicolor negatives quickly b e c a m e obsolete. The Technicolor dye-transfer printing process remained in use, however, since m a n y cinematographers felt that the dye-transfer technique produced better and more precise colors than Eastman's chemical development. The difference between an Eastman chemical print and a Technicolor dye-transfer print is even today evident to professionals. The Technicolor print has a cooler, smoother, more subtle look to it than the Eastman print. Moreover, the dye-transfer print will maintain color values for a far longer time. Technicolor closed the last of its dye-transfer labs in the U.S. in the late 1970s. The system was regularly employed in China (where Technicolor built a plant
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119
Figure 2-45.
LOW
CONTRAST.
Romy
1963).
soon after the recognition of China by the U.S.) until 1992. At almost the same time that the dye-transfer process was being phased out in the Western world, film archivists and technicians were becoming aware of significant problems with the Eastmancolor process. The colors fade very quickly and never in the same relationship to each other. Unless Technicolor dye-transfer prints, or expensive three-strip black-and-white color records have been preserved, most color films of the fifties, sixties, seventies, and eighties will soon deteriorate beyond helpif they haven't already. (Technicolor retooled for dye transfer in the U.S. in 1995 in response to the challenge.) We think of film as a permanent medium, but that's true more in theory than in practice. You can rent a print today of Michelangelo Antonioni's Red Desert (1964), for example, but it's highly unlikely that you'll see the same film that so impressed filmgoers with its visual elan back then. You're likely to wonder w h a t all the fuss was about. (You'll have to trust me: Red Desert was a breathtaking exercise in the psychology of color.) You m a y catch a screening of Terrence Malick's Days of Heaven (1978) s o m e w h e r e , but chances are it w o n ' t be in 70 m m , the exquisite colors h a v e faded, of course, and y o u ' r e likely to walk out yawning.
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Figure 2 - 4 6 . GAMMA. The curved line here is called the "characteristic" of a film emulsion. A perfect emulsion would have a characteristic curve which was a straight line. That is, for every equal increase in exposure there would be an equal increase in the density of the negative obtained. No emulsion, however, has such a curve, and most emulsions in use today show a similarly curved line. The area in which the curve is relatively flat is the usable contrast range of the emulsion. More important, the slope of this curve (x) is a measure of the "contrastiness"or potential contrastof the emulsion. The emulsion represented by curve a, for example, has a greater potential contrast than that of curve b. In other words, emulsion a will better be able to distinguish between two similar luminance values. The g a m m a of an emulsion, precisely, is equal to tan x (the tangent of the angle of the slope).
(Trust m e again, Days of Heaven was an exuberant portrait of the American Midwest, dense with eidetic imagery.) Preservation problems are not confined to color and format: if you h a v e n ' t seen a silver-nitrate print (or at least a 35 m m print newly struck from the nitrate negative) of classics like Citizen Kane or The Big Sleep, you are liable to underestimate seriously the power of the imagery of these films. Indeed, most of the print material n o w available for films from the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s is in such poor condition that generations of film students are sentenced to look at film history t h r o u g h a glass, darkly. As w e ' v e noted, this is not true of Technicolor classics from t h e late 1930s and 1940s. N e w prints of these films c o m e very close to reproducing the original look and feel. Since the advent of colorization in the mid-1980s, there's an additional problem to deal with: every time you turn on an old movie on television you have to check the history books to see if w h a t you're watching is the original. Newly col-
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Figure 2-47. The "Color Wedge" graphically illustrates the relationships a m o n g the three major variables of color theory. This is a section of the full color solid which covers the entire spectrum.
orized black-and-white films don't look m u c h worse than badly faded originalcolor films (or poorly preserved black-and-white television prints), but that's not the point. Martin Scorsese and others have united to protest the practice of colorization. It seems to m e they don't go far enough: it's just as necessary to restore the magnificent black-and-white nitrates of the 1930s and 1940s and the faded Eastmancolor of the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s. Film is subject to these geriatric problems because it is a chemical technology. As electronics replaces chemistry, preservation of the artist's original intent will be much less problematic. Already, laserdiscs have proved a boon to film lovers; once this technology is fully digitized, color, tone, and contrast, too, will be preserved potentiallyforever. W h e t h e r or not we can restore the original visuals to the faded relics of the past remains to be seen. "Re-colorization" is an intriguing concept, b u t color is a distinctly psychological p h e n o m e n o n : o n e m a n ' s b l u e is another w o m a n ' s green (but if you're gay, it m a y be teal), a n d memories fade faster than Eastman stock. Before 1952, black-and-white was the standard format, and color was reserved for special projects. Between 1955 and 1968 the two were about equal in popu-
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The Filmstock
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Figure 2-48. PRIMARY COLOR THEORY. For psychological reasons all colors of the visible spectrum can be reproduced by the combination of three so-called "primary" colors. The "additive" primaries are red, blue, and green. The "subtractive" primaries are magenta (redblue), cyan (blue-green), and yellow. All the colors of the spectrum together produce white light, just as complete absence of color yields black. If both magenta and yellow are subtracted from a beam of white light, the result is red. If both red and green beams are added together, the result is yellow, and so o n . There is no mathematical reason for this to be; it's a psychological c o n u n d r u m .
Deadly Affair, flashing entails exposing the film, before or after the scene is shot, to a neutral density gray light of a predetermined value. By in effect boosting even the darkest areas of the image into that area of the gamma scale where differentiations between close shades are easily made, flashing extends the latitude of any filmstock. It also has the potential advantage of muting color values and thereby giving the filmmaker some measure of control over the color saturation of the image. In 1975 the TVC labs introduced a chemical process called C h e m t o n e (developed by Dan Sandberg, Bernie Newson, a n d J o h n Concilia) that was a m u c h more sophisticated version of flashing. C h e m t o n e was first used on such films as Harry and Tonto (1974), Nashville (1975), and Taxi Driver (1976).* Contrast, tone, and exposure latitude are all important factors in the matter of film lighting. With the advent of high-speed color filmstock and the techniques of pushing, flashing, and Chemtone, the technology of cinematography reached a point, after more than three-quarters of a century, where film might approximate the sensitivity of the h u m a n eye. It is n o w possible for filmmakers to shoot under almost any conditions in which they can see. But this was hardly the case during the first seventy-five years of film history.
* The t h e o r y b e h i n d flashing is very similar to t h e t h e o r y b e h i n d t h e Dolby noise r e d u c t i o n system. See Figure 2 - 5 0 . (Of course, n o w all of this is d o n e digitally.)
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The Soundtrack
Before examining the post-production phase of filmmakingediting, mixing, laboratory work, and projectionwe should investigate the production of sound.
The Soundtrack
Ideally, the sound of a film should be equal in importance with the image. Sadly, however, sound technology in film lags far behind not only the development of cinematography but also the technology of sound recording that has developed independently from film. The recording of s o u n d is r o u g h l y parallel to t h e recording of images: t h e microphone is, in effect, a lens through which sound is filtered; the recorder compares roughly with the camera; both sound and picture are recorded linearly and can be edited later. But there is one significant difference: because of the contrasting m a n n e r s in which w e perceive them, sound must be recorded continuously, while pictures are recorded discretely. The concept of "persistence of vision" does n o t h a v e a n a u r a l equivalent, w h i c h is o n e r e a s o n w h y w e d o n ' t h a v e "still sounds" to compare with still pictures. Sound must exist in time. A corollary of this is that w e cannot apply s o u n d recording devices to aural information in the same w a y w e can apply cinematography to visual information. Film can stretch or compress time, which is useful scientifically, but sound must exist in time, a n d it is pointless to compress or stretch it. Sound was digitized as early as the 1970s. Digital recordings can be played back at a faster or slower rate, but generally w h e n w e change the speed of a recording w e change the quality of the sound as well. The union of sound a n d image, the original dream of the inventors of cinematography, w a s delayed for technological a n d e c o n o m i c reasons until t h e late 1920s. So long as image was recorded in a linear, discontinuous m o d e and sound was recorded in a circular, continuous mode, the problem of synchronization of sound a n d image was insurmountable. Lee DeForest's auction tube, invented in 1906, m a d e it possible for the first time to translate sound signals into electrical signals. The electrical signals could t h e n be translated into light signals that could be imprinted o n film. Then the t w o printssound a n d imagebeing parallel, could easily be "married" together so that they were always and forever synchronous, even if the film broke a n d h a d to be spliced. This was essentially the Germ a n Tri-Ergon system that was patented as early as 1919. This optical sound syst e m has existed more or less unchanged to the present. For t w e n t y years after t h e s o u n d film was b o r n in 1926, filmmakers w e r e h a m p e r e d by t h e bulky a n d noisy electromechanical e q u i p m e n t necessary to record sound o n the set. Even t h o u g h portable optical recorders were soon available, recording o n location was discouraged. In the late forties, however, the technology of film took a n o t h e r q u a n t u m leap with t h e development of magnetic recording. Tape is easier to w o r k w i t h t h a n film, m o r e compact, and, thanks to transistors, the recording devices themselves are n o w small and lightweight. Magnetic tape, in general, also produces a m u c h better quality signal t h a n a n optical soundtrack does. Today, magnetic recording has entirely replaced optical recording o n t h e set, although t h e optical soundtrack is still m o r e c o m m o n t h a n t h e
The Soundtrack
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Figure 2 - 4 9 . SOUND. Tracks from several sources (A) (dialogue, music, and effects, for example) are mixed to produce a master tape (B) which is then used to produce the actual soundtrack, w h i c h is usually optical, sometimes magnetic. The magnetic track is read by the electromagnetic head w h i c h senses variations in the magnetic signal (C). The optical soundtrack is read by a photoelectric cell which senses variations in the a m o u n t of light transmitted through the soundtrack. The exciter lamp is the uniform light source.
image. The signal should be free from wow, flutter, and other kinds of mechanical distortion, and the equipment should have a satisfactory response time: that is, the ability to reproduce sounds of short duration without mushiness. This is the "resolution" of the sound signal. While stereoscopic images are subject to special psychological a n d physical problems that significantly reduce their value, stereophonic sound is relatively
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Post-Production
Film professionals divide the process of their art into three phases: preproduction, shooting, and post-production. The first phase is preparatorythe script is written, actors and technicians hired, shooting schedules and budgets planned. In another art, this period of preparation would be relatively uncreative. But Alfred Hitchcock, for one, regarded this period of the film process as paramount: once he had designed the film, h e used to say, its execution was comparatively boring. Moreover, in this most expensive of arts, intelligent and accurate planning often spells the difference between success and failure. It must be clear by n o w that making films is a complicated businessso m u c h so that m o d e r n systems design has had a measurably positive effect o n the process. The elaborate, carefully orga-
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Figure 2-50. THE DOLBY EFFECT. A certain a m o u n t of basic surface noise is inherent in any recording m e d i u m (A). It presents no problem when the level of the recorded signal is high enough, but it masks out the weaker parts of the signal. The Dolby system boosts the weaker signal during recording (B), then reduces it to its proper level during playback, thus reducing the recorded surface noise along with it (C).
nized systems Stanley Kubrick created for his film projects, for example, were one of the more intriguing aspects of his work. Nearly all the discussion in this chapter on film technology has so far centered o n the second phase of film production: shooting. Yet there is a sense in which this area of the process can be seen as preparatory, too. Shooting produces the r a w materials that are fashioned into finished products only in the third stage of the process. Editing is often regarded as the fulcrum of film art, since it is in this process that film most clearly separates itself from competing arts. The theory of film editing will be discussed in Chapters 3 and 5; here w e will outline the practice and describe the equipment involved. Three jobs generally proceed more or less concurrently during post-production: editing; sound mixing, augmentation, and looping (or ADR); and laboratory work, opticals, and special effects. A film could conceivably be edited, mixed, and printed within a few hours; assuming both the sound track and the picture in their raw state were satisfactory, the editing would be simply a matter of splicing a few takes end to end. But very few films are this simple, a n d post-production work often takes longer t h a n the actual shooting of the film. Although it is called "post-production," the work often begins during the shoot and runs concurrently.
Editing
The shot is the basic unit of film construction; it is defined, physically, as a single piece of film, without breaks in the continuity of the action. It m a y last as long as ten minutes (since most cameras only hold ten minutes of film); it m a y be as short as 1/24 second (one frame). Elitchcock's Rope (1948) was shot to appear as if it were one continuous take, and most of Miklos Jancso's films are composed of full-reel shots (ten or twelve per film), but the standard fictional feature is comprised of as m a n y as five h u n d r e d or a thousand separate shots. Each of the shots must be physically spliced with cement or tape to the shots that precede and fol-
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Figure 2 - 5 1 . PREPRODUCTION. These storyboard sketches by Leon Capetanos for Paul Mazursky's Tempest ( 1 9 8 2 ) suggest the structure of the sequence. The key follows. (Courtesy Paul Mazursky.)
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Figure 2-52A.
Flatbed editing tables, such as the Steenbeck pictured here, permitted and Co.)
comparisons between as many as three or four picture and sound tracks. This particular table is set up for one picture track and two soundtracks. (14/. Steenbeck
Despite the versatility and flexibility of computer-based editing, digitization does add several layers of complexity, and editors n o w must worry about "timecodes" (which m a t c h the digital images to the film frames) a n d "Edit Decision Lists" (which record t h e various editorial choices), as well as all t h e technology of microcomputers. So there are still some oldtimers w h o maintain they can do a better job on an old-fashioned table: feeling the stock as it runs through their fingers, and sensing rhythms from the whirring reels.
Mixing and
Looping
The editing of a soundtrack differs somewhat from the editing of images. First, for various reasons, the sound recorded on the set at the same time as the picture may not be usable. While a bad take of the picture is totally useless and must be reshot, a bad take of the sound can be m u c h more easily repaired or replaced. In the process called post-dubbing, or looping, a few seconds of film are formed into a loop that is projected in a sound studio and repeated m a n y times so the actors can catch the rhythm of the scene and then m o u t h their dialogue in synchronization with the image. This is then recorded and spliced into the original soundtrack. During the eighties, this process began to be glorified in credits with
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Figure 2 - 5 2 B . Computer editing suites, such as the Avid, shown here, try to m i m i c the physical setup of the old editing tables. Comparisons are quicker and m u c h more flexible.
the acronym "ADR," for "additional dialogue recording," but the method has remained the same since the advent of talkies. This process was formerly m u c h more common than it is today because sound recording techniques have been vastly simplified by the introduction of magnetic tape. On-location recording has become the rule rather t h a n the exception. It remained the practice in Italy, however, to post-dub the entire film. Federico Fellini, for one, was renowned for occasionally not even bothering to write dialogue until after the scene had been shot, directing his actors instead to recite numbers (but with feeling!). Post-dubbing has generally been a useful technique for translating films into other languages. Usually, a soundtrack produced this way has a noticeable deadness a n d a w k w a r d n e s s to it, but the Italians, as might be expected, since their practice is to post-dub all films, have produced some quite passable foreign-language dubbing jobs. Once the tedious job of dubbing has been completed, the soundtrack can be mixed. This process has n o real equivalent with images for, although split-screen techniques and multiple exposures can present us with more than one image at a time, those multiple images are seldom combined. Matte techniques and rear projection (see below) offer more directly comparable equivalents to sound mixing, but they are relatively rarely used. This m a y change, as computers become as essential to film editors as they are to writers. Once it's as easy to edit digital images as it n o w is to edit digital sounds, the editor may become a "mixer" as well,
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Figure 2-53. CEL A N I M A T I O N . Classical animation uses the eel technique for efficiency and accuracy. The image is divided into layers of movement and each of those layers is drawn on a separate transparent sheet called a "eel" (from "celluloid"). Thus, the stationary background need be drawn only once for a scene, simple movements can be executed rapidly, and special attention can be paid to isolated, complex movements. In this scene from R. 0 . Blechman's The Life and Times of Nicholas by Seymour Chwast/Push Nickleby (1982), four eels (A-D) are overlaid on (Designee Tank.) the background (E). The elements are divided into groups according to the action. Pin Studios. Courtesy of The Ink
combining picture elements within the frame with the same ease he or she n o w joins shots end to end. By 1932, sound technology had developed to the point where rerecording was c o m m o n , a n d it was possible to mix as m a n y as four optical tracks. For m a n y years, mixing consisted simply of combining prerecorded music, sound effects (a crude t e r m for a sophisticated craft), and dialogue. However, in the 1960s the multiple-track magnetic recorder greatly expanded the potential of sound mixing.
Post-Production
Figure 2-54. E A R L Y C O M P U T E R
quantities of data, computers have proven invaluable. The early programs, of varying degrees of sophistication, could take simple eels though their animated paces, as in this compressed history of evolution from Carl Sagan's Cosmos ( 1 9 8 0 ) . The drawing moves continuously and smoothly from stage to stage, a wonder at the time. The difference between these stick figures and the lifelike herds of dinosaurs integrated seamlessly into the live action in Jurassic measures the explosive growth of c o m p u t i n g power in the 1980s. [James Charles Kohlhase, Jet Propulsion Laboratories Computer Graphics Lab.) Blinn, Park Pat Cole,
A single word or sound effect was easily spliced in (this was difficult with optical soundtracks), the quality of the sound could be modified, reinforced, or altered in m a n y different ways electronically, and dozens of separate tracks could be combined, with the sound mixer in total control of all the esthetic variables of each track. In the nineties the art of sound mixing and editing was quickly digitized. Digital tape recorders joined their analog predecessors on the set, while mixing and editing m o v e d to t h e computer. Since the audio industry h a d converted to the digital distribution format of the CD in the 1980s, it isn't surprising that the art of film sound is n o w thoroughly digital. As with digital film editing, the old metaphors have been retained, andyesthere are oldtimers w h o still think they can do a better job with analog pots and panels. Yet, by the early 1990s, this formerly arcane technology was familiar to most kids with computers, w h o quickly filled up hard discs with their own attempts at audio art.
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Figure 2-55. M A T H E M A T I C A L A N I M A T I O N .
others first explored abstract computerized animation with oscillographic compositions contemporary courtesy John design, as the power of the microcomputer Whitney.)
this. They established a style of mathematical imagery that has become a c o m m o n thread of brought similar tools to every enlargements, desktop. These frames are from a recent effort, " M o o n D r u m , " 1992. (Frame
Special Effects
"Special effects" is a rather dull label for a wide variety of activities, each of which has direct creative potential. The craft of special effects rests o n three premises: (1) film need not be shot continuously, each frame can be photographed separately; (2) drawings, paintings, and models can be photographed in such a way that they pass for reality; (3) images can be combined. The first premise makes possible the art of animation. The precursors of animation were the Zoetrope and the age-old "flip book," in which a series of drawings were bound together so that if the pages were flipped quickly the image appeared to move. But animation is not dependent on drawings, even t h o u g h most animated films are cartoons. Models and even living figures can be animated by photographing frames individually and changing the position of the subject between frames. This animation technique is called "pixillation." As for cartoon animation, the eel technique in which various sections of the cartoon are drawn o n separate transparent sheets (eels) makes the process m u c h more flexible t h a n one might at first think. Approximately 14,400 separate drawings must be m a d e for a tenm i n u t e a n i m a t e d film, but if the background remains constant t h e n it can be painted o n a separate eel and the artist need d r a w only those subjects that are meant to be seen in motion. Since the 1960s, computer video techniques have made animation even more flexible, since a computer can be programmed to produce a wide variety of drawings instantaneously and to change their shape accurately and with proper timing. Until the late eighties, computer animation was the province of the professional. Now, as with so m a n y of the hitherto proprietary techniques of the film industry, animation has become a familiar tool to scores of thousands of office workers w h o routinely add animations to their "desktop presentations."
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Figure 2 - 5 6 . GLASS SHOTS. The bottom part of the glass is left clear; the top part has been painted. The glass is situated far enough from the camera so that both it and the set are in focus. Set lights and matte lights are adjusted to balance. The camera is m o u n t e d on a solid base to prevent vibration.
The second premise yields a series of special effects k n o w n as m i n i a t u r e or model shots a n d glass shots. The success of miniature photography depends o n our ability to r u n the camera at faster t h a n normal speeds (called "overcranking"). A two-inch wave, traveling at normal speed but photographed at four times normal speed, will appear to be approximately four times larger w h e n it is projected at the standard rate (and therefore slowed d o w n by a factor of four). The rule of t h u m b in miniature photography is that the camera speed be the square root of the scale; that is, a quarter-scale model will require a camera speed twice normal. In practice, t h e smallest miniatures that w o r k are 1/16-size, a n d e v e n 1/4-size miniatures present some problems of verisimilitude. Glass shots are possibly the simplest of special effects. The technique involves placing a glass several feet in front of the camera and in effect painting over the area of the scene that must be changed. The effect depends of course o n the talent of the painter, but surprisingly realistic examples of this simple technique exist. The third premise is possibly the most fruitful for contemporary filmmakers. The simplest w a y to m a k e use of the idea is to project another imagethe backgroundon a screen behind the actors and the foreground. Thousands of Hollyw o o d taxi rides were filmed this w a y by the aid of rear projection, introduced in 1932. (See Figure 2-57.) The advent of color made rear projection obsolete, h o w -
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Figure 2-57. REAR P R O J E C T I O N . Camera and projector are interlocked so that the projector projects a frame at precisely the same time the camera takes one. The actors in the car mockup in front of the screen are lit in such a way that the translucent screen behind them does not reflect; it only transmits the light from the projector. Note the springs which support the car mock-up in order to simulate movement.
ever. Color photography required a greater a m o u n t of light on the subject, which t e n d e d to w a s h out the rear-projected image. More important, the color image provides m o r e visual information, which makes it m u c h more difficult to match foreground a n d background. Two techniques were developed to replace rear projection. Front projection utilizes a directional screen composed of millions of tiny glass beads that act as lenses, which enable the screen to reflect as m u c h as 95 percent of t h e light falling o n it back to the source. As can be seen in Figure 2-58, this requires that the source be o n the same axis as the camera lens, a position that also eliminates shadows o n t h e screen. This positioning is achieved by using a half-silvered mirror set at a 45 angle. Front projection was perfected for Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). (That film, in fact, remains a catalogue of m o d e r n special effects.) Glass shots and rear and front projection are techniques that combine images and are accomplished on the set. Matte shots and blue screen (or traveling matte) shots, however, are produced in the laboratory. Stationary matte shots produce a n effect similar to t h e glass shot. In the laboratory, the film is projected o n a white card a n d t h e artist outlines the area to be matted out a n d paints it black.
Figure 2-58. FRONT PROJECTION. The essential element of the front projection system is the half-silvered mirror, w h i c h both transmits and reflects light. This makes it possible for the projector to project the background image onto the screen behind the set and actor along precisely the same axis that the camera views the scene. Thus, the camera cannot see the s h a d ows w h i c h the actor and set cast on the screen. Set lighting is adjusted so that it is just bright enough to wash out the background image w h i c h falls on the actor and set. The screen is highly directional, reflecting a great deal more light from the projected image along the axis than off to the side a n d thus providing a bright enough image. The projected scene travels from the projector (A), is reflected off the half-silvered mirror onto the screen (and set and actor) (B), a n d then back into the camera, through the mirror (C). Some of the light from the projector is also transmitted through the mirror (D). See the final effect below.
Figure 2-59. Front projection from 2001. perfected the system for the film. (Frame
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Figure 2 - 6 0 . MATTES. Both male and female mattes are derived from the main image. In the stationary matte technique they are drawn; in the traveling matte system, diagramed here, the mattes are derived optically.
This black outline (see Figure 2-60) is t h e n photographed, and the film, after it is developed, is packed together with the original shot in the projector and a copy is m a d e in which the proper area is matted out in each frame. The scene to be added to this area (together w i t h a reversal of the first matte) is t h e n printed onto the copy of the original scene, and the print is developed. Traveling matte shots replaced front a n d rear projection shots a n d came into use w h e n color film began to dominate the industry. The process, essentially, is this: a deep blue screen is placed behind the foreground action, and the scene is photographed. Because the background color is uniform and precise, "male" and "female" mattes can be m a d e by copying the film t h r o u g h filters. A blue filter would let through only the background light, leaving the foreground action blank and producing a "female" matte; a red filter would block out the background and expose only the foreground, producing a black silhouette, the "male" matte. The female matte can t h e n be used, as in the stationary matte technique, to block out the blue background w h e n a copy of the original film is made, the male matte will block out precisely the right areas of the background scene that has been chosen, and the matted background and matted foreground can t h e n be combined. This is a difficult a n d exacting process in film, but the technique has been carried over to television, w h e r e it is called "chroma key," and there it can be achieved electronically simply by pressing a button. It has become a basic tool of television, used constantly in news and sports to integrate the announcer with the action.
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Figure 2 - 6 1 . A matte shot from 2001. The scenery of the moon was matted in. The images on the tiny screens below the windows were rear-projected. {Frame enlargement.)
Figure 2-62. A model shot of the moon landing station from 2 0 0 1 The small portholes in the model spherical landing capsule as well as the bright rectangular areas to the left and right were matted with live-action scenes to increase the illusion of the model. Most of the exquisite detail is lost in this reproduction. {Frame enlargement.)
Here, as just about everywhere else in post-production, computer programs are rapidly replacing the meticulous a n d painstaking m e c h a n i c a l t e c h n i q u e s developed by filmmakers over the years to adjust and modify the images their cameras have captured. Combining foregrounds and backgrounds by matting is n o w something that any accomplished desktop publisher can do. And filmmakers themselves have taken the next logical step, actually modeling or transforming at
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The technologies of television and videotape will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 6, but here w e can examine the marriage that has taken place between film and television. For m a n y years the relationship was subdued, but that has n o w changed. In nearly every stage of film production, from preparation to shooting to post-production, video n o w serves useful functions. The most obvious advantage of videotape over film is that tape is immediately available for review; it need not be processed first. In addition, whereas the camera operator is the only person w h o has a clear view of the image while a film is being shot, a video image can be instantaneously transmitted to a n u m b e r of monitors. As a result, videotape has found a n u m b e r of applications o n the set. It frees the operator from the camera, as in the Louma process described above. In n o r m a l cinematography, a video camera can be attached to a film camera by m e a n s of a semireflecting mirror, and can see the same image the operator sees. The director (and other technicians) can then observe o n a monitor elsewhere o n the set the precise image being shot. If the scene is taped, it can immediately be played back so that actors and technicians can check to m a k e sure the take w e n t as planned, thus gready reducing the need for additional takes.
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Projection
Figure 2-63. VIDEOASSIST. Directors increasingly rely on video on the set, sometimes even using the monitor instead of the camera eyepiece to frame a shot. Video playback permits an immediate review of the shot, saving time and money. The monitor is often the h u b of the set, with cast and crew rushing to gather round to see the immediate results of their work. (A) An Aaton VR42 black-and-white CCD videoassist installed on an Aaton XTR Plus camera. (B) A view of the inside of the videotap. (Courtesy Abel Cine Tech.)
Projection
One final step remains before the chain of film technology is complete: projection. This is, in a way, the most crucial step, since all the work done in the earlier stages must funnel through this one before a film reaches an observer. Ironically, the film projector is the single piece of film equipment that has changed least during the past fifty years. Except for the addition of the optical or magnetic head, which reads the soundtrack, and adapters necessary to project anamorphic prints, the projector is basically the same machine used in the early 1920s, fndeed, some projectionists think antique machines from the thirties work better than m a n y manufactured today. Any projector is, simply, a camera that operates in the reverse mode: instead of taking a picture, it shows itbut this one difference is significant. The a m o u n t of light necessary to record an image is easily obtained, w h i l e t h e e v e n larger a m o u n t of light necessary to project a picture must be provided by a source small enough to fit behind the lens of the projector, and it must be able to enlarge the 1 / 2-square-inch 35 m m frame 300,000 times or m o r e to fill the screen. Until the 1960s, the light source of commercial projectors was a carbon arc lamp that could provide the intense light of 5000 or 6000 K that is necessary. An arc of highvoltage current b e t w e e n t w o carbon rods was t h e direct source. The difficulty with the carbon arc lamp (the same sort used to illuminate sets in earlier days) was that the carbon rods were consumed in the process and had to be continually
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Figure 2 - 6 4 . STANDARD PROJECTOR. The smaller sprocket wheels pull the film off t h e feed reel a n d feed it to the take-up reel. The main sprocket advances the film intermittently. It is connected to the Maltese Cross gear (see Figure 2-21). A series of rollers d a m p s the intermittent motion of the film before it reaches the sound head, so that the soundtrack can be read continuously and smoothly.
adjusted. In addition, the lamps needed powerful ventilation systems. Carbon arc lamps w e r e replaced by x e n o n lamphouses, which last longer, need not be continually adjusted, and don't require special ventilation. While a film negative runs only once through a camera and once through a n optical printer, the print of a film is subjected to far m o r e stress, normally being r u n thirty-five or forty times per week fn a commercial movie theater. This is the second salient difference between camera and projector: the latter must treat the film m o r e gently. Because so few advances have been made in projector design, however, prints are subjected to m u c h unnecessary damage. The result is that you very seldom see a film exactly the w a y its authors intended. A writer can be fairly sure that his publisher a n d printer will represent his intentions to his reader; a filmmaker has n o such assurance from distributors and exhibitors. Damage to the
Projection
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Figure 2-65. M O D E R N
FLATBED
been
replaced by angled rollers which feed the film from large open reels installed on the platters to the left. Fewer reel changes means projectionists can handle several theaters at once; hence, the multiplexes. {Courtesy Magnasync Moviola Company.)
film means that splices will be made excising parts of the film. Cuts are also made simply to shorten the running time (as well as to eliminate politically or sexually objectionable material). A reader knows if a copy of a book has been altered: page numbers will be missing. A film viewer seldom knows just what relationship the print he is seeing bears to the original. Film is often thought to be a p e r m a n e n t medium: o n the contrary, it is exceptionally fragile. There are better ways to do this job. In the 1970s, the Ffollogon Rotary projection systemthe first radical redesign of projection machinery in seventy-five yearspromised a considerable advance. The Ffollogon system utilized a revolving twenty-four-sided prism like those used in high-speed cameras and m o d e r n editing tables to reduce strain o n the print. Instead of a complicated system of sprocket wheels, pull-down mechanisms, damping rollers, and sound heads, the Hollogon projector consisted simply of two continuously revolving wheels, constantly in sync. As the frame image moved around the picture wheel, it was kept optically steady on the screen by the multifaceted prism. Besides keeping the projector in working order, the projectionist has two other responsibilities: to keep the image in focus and, through a proper combination of lenses a n d masks, to s h o w the film in the proper aspect ratio. Standards are as slack h e r e as elsewhere in projection. Although scientifically precise m e a n s of focusing are readily available (and at one time were usually found in projection booths), the average contemporary projectionist prefers to improvise, relying on the n a k e d eye. Generations h a v e grown u p not k n o w i n g w h a t a well-focused film looks like.
Figure 2-66. Opened in Brussels in 1988, the modestly-named "Kinepolis" holds the multiplex record to date with 2 5 theaters equipped for 3 5 m m and 7 0 m m , plus an IMAX theater. The total seating capacity is 8,000, exceeding even Radio City Music Hall, the last great movie palace of the thirties. Kinepolis is at the center of a massive entertainment complex w h i c h includes a t h e m e park, water rides, and a "mini-Europe" constructed of scale models, together with restaurants and boutiques. {Courtesy Kinepolis and Sonja Coudeville.)
The problem of masks is even more acute. Few theaters keep a complete range of masks and concomitant lenses on hand. Many theaters have only the contemporary standard 1.85 American widescreen mask and the basic anamorphic lens. If a 1.66 film arrivesor, even worsea movie in the Academy aspect ratio, the projectionist shows it with whatever mask is at hand. Heads are lopped off with abandon, and whatever composition the director originally had in mind is a matter of conjecture. Finally, there is sound: significant strides have been made here in recent years. Now, most first-run theaters are equipped to handle stereophonic or six-track sound, Dolbyized tracks, magnetic tracks, and the THX sound system. M u l t i p l e x e d c i n e m a s , w i t h tiny t h e a t e r s (albeit b e t t e r economics) h a v e exploded in numbers since the 1970s. W h e n you combine the lack of advances in projection with the fact that most audiences n o w see films in rooms not m u c h larger than their living rooms on screens closer in size to their television sets than to the cinema screens of years past, it is a wonder that theatrical film has survived at all. Projection has been the last area of film production to succumb to digitization, but even here video is superseding celluloid. The substantial costs of prints for a wide release make it inevitable that theatrical movies will be delivered digitally via broadcast once the necessary b a n d w i d t h is available. Call it "Nickelodeon-ond e m a n d . " The first public trials of digital projection w e r e held in the spring of 1999 shortly after the release of the fourth Star Wars film. It is clear that filmmaking is not (as ads directed to a m a t e u r photographers have tried to convince us for years) simply a matter of looking through the view-
Projection finder and pressing the button. Filmmaking requires a degree of technical knowledge and expertise far surpassing that of any other art. While it is true that there are certain areas in which the technology of film has not yet caught u p with the aspirations of filmmakers, it is equally true that there are areas w h e r e the technology offers a potential that cineastes have yet to explore. The technology a n d the esthetics of film are interlocked: w h e r e one pulls, the other must follow. So a full understanding of the technological limitations and interconnections is necessary before one can begin to comprehend the ideal world of film esthetics that is the subject of the following chapter.
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Film is not a language in the sense that English, French, or mathematics is. First of all, it's impossible to be ungrammatical in film. And it is not necessary to learn a vocabulary. Infants appear to understand television images, for example, months before they begin to develop any facility with spoken language. Even cats watch television. Clearly, it is not necessary to acquire a n intellectual understanding of film in order to appreciate itat least on the most basic level. But film is very m u c h like language. People w h o are highly experienced in filmhighly literate visually (or should w e say "cinemate"?)see more and hear more t h a n people w h o seldom go to the movies. An education in the quasi-language of film opens u p greater potential meaning for the observer, so it is useful to use the metaphor of language to describe the p h e n o m e n o n of film. In fact, n o extensive scientific investigation of our ability to comprehend artificial sounds a n d images has yet b e e n performed, b u t nevertheless w e do k n o w through research that while children are able to recognize objects in pictures long before they are able to read, t h e y are eight or t e n years of age before t h e y can comprehend a film image the w a y most adults do. Moreover, there are cultural differences in the perception of images. In one famous 1920s test, anthropologist William H u d s o n set out to e x a m i n e w h e t h e r rural Africans w h o h a d h a d little contact w i t h Western culture perceived d e p t h in two-dimensional images the same w a y that Europeans do. He found, unequivocally, that they do not. Results variedthere w e r e some individuals w h o responded in the Western m a n n e r to the testbut they were uniform over a broad cultural and sociological range.
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Figure 3-1. CONSTRUCTION-TASK FIGURES. Subjects asked to reconstruct these figures in three dimensions using sticks or rods, respond in different ways. People from Western cultures, trained in the codes and conventions that artists use to convey three-dimensionality in a two-dimensional drawing, see A as three-dimensional and B as two-dimensional. The operating code for three-dimensionality here insists that the dimension of depth be portrayed along the 45 oblique line. This works well enough in A, but not in B, where the oblique lines are not in the d e p t h plane. Subjects from old African cultures tend to see both figures as two-dimensional, since they are not familiar with this Western three-dimensional code. Figures C and D illustrate the models of A constructed by Western and African observers, respectively. (From
"Pictorial Perception and Culture," Jan B. Deregowski. 1972 by Scientific American, Inc. Ah rights reserved.)
The conclusions that can be d r a w n from this seminal experiment a n d others that have followed are t w o : first, that every n o r m a l h u m a n being can perceive and identify a visual image; second, that even the simplest visual images are interpreted differently in different cultures. So w e k n o w that people must be "reading" these images. There is a process of intellection occurringnot necessarily consciouslywhen w e observe a n image, and it follows that w e must, at some point, have learned h o w to do this. The "ambiguous trident," a well-known "optical illusion," provides a n easy test of this ability. It's safe to say that the level of visual literacy of anyone reading this book is such that observation of the trident will be confusing to all of us. It would not be for someone not trained in Western conventions of three-dimensionality. Similarly, the well-known optical illusions in Figures 3-3 and 3-4 demonstrate that the process of perception and comprehension involves the brain: it is a m e n -
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Figure 3 - 2 . T H E A M B I G U O U S T R I D E N T . The illusion is intriguing only because we are trained in Western codes of perspective. The psychological effect is powerful: our minds insist that w e see the object in space rather than the drawing on a plane.
Figure 3 - 3 . THE NECKER C U B E . Devised in 1 8 3 2 by L. A. Necker, a Swiss naturalist. The illusion depends, once again, on cultural training.
Figure 3-4. " M y Wife and My Motherin-law," by cartoonist W. E. Hill, was published in Puck'm 1915. It has since become a famous example of the p h e n o m e n o n known as the multistable figure. The y o u n g woman's chin is the old woman's nose. The old woman's c h i n is the y o u n g woman's chest. (New York Public Library.)
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tal experience as well as a physical one. Whether w e "see" the Necker Cube from the top or the bottom or w h e t h e r w e perceive the drawing in Figure 3-4 as either a y o u n g girl or a n old w o m a n depends not o n the physiological function of our eyes b u t o n w h a t t h e b r a i n does w i t h t h e i n f o r m a t i o n received. T h e w o r d "image," indeed, has two conjoined meanings: a n image is a n optical pattern; it is also a mental experience, which is probably w h y w e use the w o r d "imagine" to describe the mental creation of pictures. So there is a strong element of our ability to observe images, w h e t h e r still or moving, that depends o n learning. This is, interestingly, n o t true to a significant extent with auditory p h e n o m e n a . If the machines are sophisticated enough, we can produce recorded sounds that are technically indistinguishable from their originals. The result of this difference in m o d e of the two systems of perception visual a n d auditoryis that whatever education our ears undergo in order to perceive reality is sufficient to perceive recorded sound, whereas there is a subtle but significant difference b e t w e e n the education necessary for our eyes to perceive (and our brain to understand) recorded images and that which is necessary simply to c o m p r e h e n d the reality that surrounds us. It w o u l d serve n o purpose to consider phonography as a language, but it is useful to speak of photography (and cinematography) as a language, because a learning process is involved.
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Figure 3 - 5 . SACCADE PATTERNS. At left, a drawing of a bust of Queen Nefertiti; at right, a diagram of the eye movements of a subject viewing the bust. Notice that the eye follows regular patterns rather than randomly surveying the image. The subject clearly concentrates on the face a n d shows little interest in the neck. T h e ear also seems to be a focus of attention, probably not because it is inherently interesting, but rather because it is located in a prominent place in this profile. The saccadic patterns are not continuous; the recording clearly shows that the eye jerks quickly from point to point (the "notches" in the continuous line), fixing on specific nodes rather than absorbing general information. The recording was made by Alfred L. Yarbus of the Institute for Problems of Information Transmission, Moscow. (From "Eye Movements and Visual Perception," by David Noton and Lawrence Stark, June 1971. Copyright permission.) 1971 by Scientific American, Inc. All rights reserved. Reproduced by
A complete set of physiological, ethnographic, and psychological experiments might demonstrate that various individuals read images more or less well in three different ways: physiologically: the best readers would have the most efficient and extensive saccadic patterns; ethnographically: the most literate readers would draw o n the greatest experience and knowledge of a wide variety of cultural visual conventions; psychologically: the readers w h o gained the most from the material would be the ones w h o were best able to assimilate the various sets of meanings they perceived and then integrate the experience.
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Figure 3-6. THE PONZO I L L U S I O N . The horizontal lines are of equal length, yet the line at the top appears to be longer than the line at the bottom. The diagonals suggest perspective, so that we interpret the picture in depth a n d conclude, therefore, that since the " t o p " line must be " b e h i n d " the " b o t t o m " line, further away, it must thus be longer.
The irony here is that w e k n o w very well that w e must learn to read before w e can attempt to enjoy or understand literature, but w e tend to believe, mistakenly, that a n y o n e can read a film. A n y o n e can see a film, it's true. B u t some people h a v e learned to c o m p r e h e n d visual imagesphysiologically, ethnographically, a n d psychologicallywith far m o r e sophistication t h a n h a v e others. This evidence confirms the validity of the triangle of perception outlined in Chapter 1, uniting author, work, and observer. The observer is not simply a consumer, but a n activeor potentially activeparticipant in the process. Film is not a language, but is like language, and since it is like language, some of the methods that w e use to study language might profitably be applied to a study of film. Yet, since film is not a language, narrowly linguistic concepts can be misleading. Ever since the beginning of film history, theorists have been fond of comparing film w i t h verbal language (partly to justify the serious study of film), b u t it wasn't until a new, larger category of t h o u g h t developed in the fifties a n d early sixtiesone that saw written and spoken language as just two among m a n y systems of communicationthat the real study of film as a language could proceed. This inclusive category is k n o w n as semiotics, the study of systems of signs. Semioticians justified the study of film as language by redefining the concept of written and spoken language. Any system of communication is a "language"; English, French, or Chinese is a "language system." Cinema, therefore, m a y be a language of a sort, but it is not clearly a language system. As Christian Metz, the well-known film semiotician, pointed out: w e understand a film not because we have a knowledge of its system; rather, we achieve an understanding of its system because w e understand the film. Put another way, "It is not because the cinema is language t h a t it can tell such fine stories, b u t r a t h e r it has b e c o m e language because it has told such fine stories" [Metz, Film Language, p. 47]. For semioticians, a sign must consist of t w o parts: the signifier and the signified. The word "word," for examplethe collection of letters or soundsis a sig-
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Figure 3-7. LOGOS. The concept of the logotype has been with us since medieval times, w h e n guildsmen stamped their work with a proprietary mark. In the twentieth century, the logo became a crucial mark of corporate identity. The telephone c o m p a n y was unusually lucky. Founded by Alexander Graham Bell, the "Bell System" was born with a name that echoed its most identifying feature and was also easily pictured. The early years of the corporate c o n sciousness often traded on signatures, like Ford's, or seemingly more personal script, CocaCola. (Even the ribbon treatment is protected.) International Business Machinesas they were once k n o w n b e g a n the trend to acronyms. Esso (a nice derivation of S. 0.Standard Oil) decided in the 1960s that that nonce-word wasn't modern e n o u g h ; they were reborn as Exxon, on the theory that x's are somehow more contemporary (although they remained Esso in Europe). Scores of major corporations followed their lead, attempting to reinvent t h e m selves, if in name only. The trend peaked in the mid-seventies, w h e n NBC, owner of one of the most memorable musical logos, paid over $ 7 0 0 , 0 0 0 for a nice red and blue " N " only to discover that a public television station in Nebraska already had the same logo (for w h i c h they had paid next to nothing). Interestingly, only two of the major film studios developed animated logos, M G M a n d Fox. Although numerous producers of the thirties a n d forties used their signatures on their films, only Alfred Hitchcock developed a memorable personal logo.
Film does not suggest, in this context: it states. And therein lies its power and the danger it poses to the observer: the reason w h y it is useful, even vital, to learn to read images well so t h a t t h e observer can seize s o m e of t h e p o w e r of the m e d i u m . The better one reads a n image, the more one understands it, the more power one has over it. The reader of a page invents the image, the reader of a film does not, yet both readers must w o r k to interpret the signs they perceive in order to complete the process of intellection. The more work they do, the better the balance b e t w e e n observer a n d creator in t h e process; the better the balance, the more vital and resonant the work of art.
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The result is that, as Christian Metz says: "An easy art, the cinema is in constant danger of falling victim to this easiness." Film is too intelligible, which is what makes it difficult to analyze. "A film is difficult to explain because it is easy to understand."
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Figure 3-8. A rose is not necessarily a rose. (A) James Rosenquist's roses: Dusting Off Roses. 1965. (Lithograph, of Modern 1995 The Museum printed in color, composition: of Modern 2515/16" by 2111/16." Collection, Museum Art, New York. Gift of the Celeste and Armand Bartos Foundation. III. Photograph
Art, New York.) (B) The rose from "The Interface." (C) The
white rose and the red, from the credits to Olivier's Richard
Meaning
Films do, however, manage to communicate meaning. They do this essentially in two different manners: denotatively and connotatively. Like written language, but to a greater degree, a film image or sound has a denotative meaning: it is what it is and we don't have to strive to recognize it. This may seem a simplistic statement, but the fact should never be underestimated: here lies the great strength of film. There is a substantial difference between a description in words (or even in still photographs) of a person or event, and a cinematic record of the same. Because film can give us such a close approximation of reality, it can communicate a precise knowledge that written or spoken language seldom can. "Film is what you can't imagine." Language systems may be m u c h better equipped to deal with the n o n c o n c r e t e world of ideas a n d abstractions (imagine this book, for example, on film: without a complete narration it would
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flower is for some reason dominant, overpowering, because w e consciously or unconsciously compare it with, say, a n overhead shot of a rose, w h i c h w o u l d diminish its importance. Conversely, w h e n the significance of the rose depends n o t o n the shot compared w i t h other potential shots, b u t rather o n the shot compared w i t h actual shots that precede or follow it, t h e n we can speak of its syntagmatic connotation; that is, the meaning adheres to it because it is compared with other shots that w e do see. These two different kinds of connotation have their equivalents in literature. A word alone o n the page has n o particular connotation, only denotation. We k n o w w h a t it means, w e also k n o w potentially w h a t it connotes, b u t w e can't supply the particular connotation the author of the word has in m i n d until w e see it in context. T h e n w e k n o w w h a t particular connotative value it has because w e judge its meaning by conscious or unconscious comparison of it with (i) all the words like it that might fit in this context but were not chosen, and (2) the words that precede or follow it. These t w o axes of meaningthe paradigmatic and the syntagmatichave real value as tools for understanding what film means. In fact, as a n art, film depends almost entirely u p o n these t w o sets of choices. After a filmmaker has decided what to shoot, the two obsessive questions are h o w to shoot it (what choices to make: the paradigmatic) and h o w to present the shot (how to edit it: the syntagmatic) . In literature, in contrast, the first question (how to say it) is paramount, while the second (how to present w h a t is said) is quite secondary. Semiotics, so far, has concentrated on the syntagmatic aspect of film, for a very simple reason: it is here that film is most clearly different from other arts, so that the syntagmatic category (editing, montage) is in a sense the most "cinematic." Film draws o n the other arts for m u c h of its connotative power as well as generating its o w n , b o t h paradigmatically a n d syntagmatically. But t h e r e is also a n o t h e r source of connotative sense. Cinema is not strictly a m e d i u m of intercommunication. One seldom holds dialogues using film as the medium. Whereas spoken and written languages are used for intercommunication, film, like the nonrepresentational arts in general (as well as language w h e n it is used for artistic purposes), is a one-way communication. As a result, even the most utilitarian of films is artistic in some respect. Film speaks in neologisms. " W h e n a l a n g u a g e ' does not already exist," Metz wrote, "one must be something of a n artist to speak it, however poorly. For to speak it is partly to invent it, whereas to speak the language of everyday is simply to use it." So connotations attach to even the simplest statements in film. There is a n old joke that illustrates the point: Two philosophers meet; one says "Good morning!" The other smiles in recognition, t h e n walks o n frowning a n d thinking to himself: "I w o n d e r w h a t h e m e a n t by that?" The question is a joke
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Figure 3-9. ICON. Liv Ullmann in Ingmar Bergman's Face to Face ( 1 9 7 5 ) . This image is what it is.
w h e n spoken language is the subject; it is however, a perfectly legitimate question to ask of any statement in film. Is there any way w e can further differentiate the various modes of denotation and connotation in film? Borrowing a "trichotomy" from the philosopher C. S. Peirce, Peter Wollen, in his highly influential book Signs and Meaning in the Cinema (1969), suggested that cinematic signs are of three orders: The Icon: a sign in which the signifier represents the signified mainly by its similarity to it, its likeness; The Index: which measures a quality not because it is identical to it but because it has an inherent relationship to it; The Symbol: an arbitrary sign in which the signifier has neither a direct nor an indexical relationship to the signified, but rather represents it through convention.
Although Wollen didn't fit t h e m into the denotative/connotative categories, Icon, Index, and Symbol can be seen as mainly denotative. Portraits are icons, of course, but so are diagrams in the Peirce/Wollen system. Indexes are m o r e difficult to define. Quoting Peirce, Wollen suggests two sorts of indexes, one technicalmedical symptoms are indexes of health, clocks and sundials are indexes of
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Figure 3-10. INDEX. Liv Ullmann in Bergman's Shame (1968). The offer of m o n e y t h e roll of cash on the pillowis an index of prostitution a n d , hence, of Eva's shame.
timeand one metaphorical: a rolling gait should indicate that a m a n is a sailor. (This is the one point w h e r e the Peirce/Wollen categories verge on the connotative.) Symbols, the third category, are more easily defined. The way Peirce and Wollen use it, the word has a rather broad definition: words are symbols (since the signifier represents the signified t h r o u g h c o n v e n t i o n rather t h a n resemblance). These three categories are not mutually exclusive. Especially in photographic images, the iconic factor is almost always a strong one. As we have noted, a thing is itself even if it is also an index or a symbol. General semiotic theory, especially as it is put forth in Christian Metz's writings, covers the first and last categoriesicon and symbolfairly well already. The icon is the short-circuit sign that is so characteristic of cinema; the symbol is the arbitrary or conventional sign that is the basis of spoken a n d written language. It is the second categorythe indexthat is most intriguing in Peirce and Wollen's system: it seems to be a third means, halfway between the cinematic icon and the literary symbol, by which cinema can convey meaning. It is not an arbitrary sign, but neither is it identical. It suggests a
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Figure 3 - 1 1 . SYMBOL. Bergman often uses coffins and corpses as symbols in his films. Here, Ullmann again in Face to Face...
third type of denotation that points directly toward connotation, and may in fact not be understandable without the dimension of connotation. The index seems to be one very useful way in which cinema can deal directly with ideas, since it gives us concrete representations or measurements of them. How can w e convey the idea of hotness cinematically, for instance? In written language it's very easy, but on film? The image of a thermometer quickly comes to m i n d . Clearly that is an index of t e m p e r a t u r e . But t h e r e are m o r e subtle indexes as well: sweat is an index, as are shimmering atmospheric waves and hot colors. It's a truism of film esthetics that metaphors are difficult in cinema. Comparing love with roses works well enough in literature, but its cinematic equivalent poses problems: t h e rose, t h e secondary e l e m e n t of the metaphor, is too equivalent in cinema, too m u c h present. As a result, cinematic metaphors based on the literary model tend to be crude and static and forced. The indexical sign may offer a way out of this dilemma. Here film discovers its own, unique metaphorical power, which it owes to the flexibility of the frame: its ability to say many things at once. The concept of the index also leads us to some interesting ideas about connotation. It must be clear from the above discussion that the line between denotation
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Figure 3-12. ... and Max von Sydow in Hour of the Wolf (1966).
and connotation is not clearly denned: there is a continuum. In film, as in written and spoken language, connotations if they become strong enough are eventually accepted as denotative meanings. As it happens, m u c h of the connotative power of film depends on devices that are indexical; that is, they are not arbitrary signs, but neither are they identical. Two terms from literary studies, closely associated with each other, serve to describe t h e m a i n m a n n e r in w h i c h film c o n v e y s c o n n o t a t i v e m e a n i n g . A "metonymy" is a figure of speech in which an associated detail or notion is used to invoke an idea or represent an object. Etymologically, the word means "substitute naming" (from the Greek meta, involving transfer, and onoma, name). Thus, in literature we can speak of the king (and the idea of kingship) as "the crown." A "synecdoche" is a figure of speech in which the part stands for the whole or the whole for the part. An automobile can be referred to as a "motor" or a "set of wheels"; a policeman is "the law." Both of these forms recur constantly in cinema. The indexes of heat m e n tioned above are clearly metonymical: associated details invoke an abstract idea. Many of the old cliches of Hollywood are synecdochic (close shots of marching feet to represent an army) and metonymic (the falling calendar pages, the driving
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metonymic of color. Throughout most of the film, Giuliana (Monica Vitti) is oppressed psychologically a n d politically by a gray and deathly urban industrial environment. When she m a n ages to break away from its grip on several occasions, Antonioni signals her temporary independence (and possible return to health) with bright colors, a detail associated with health and happiness not only in this film but in general culture as well. In this scene, Giuliana attempts to open her own shop. The gray walls are punctuated with splotches of brilliant color (the attempt at freedom), but the shapes themselves are violent, disorganized, frightening (the relapse into neurosis). In all, a complicated set of metonymies.
wheels of the railroad engine). Indeed, because metonymical devices yield themselves so well to cinematic exploitation, cinema c a n be m o r e efficient in this regard than literature can. Associated details can be compressed within t h e limits of the frame to present a statement of extraordinary richness. Metonymy is a kind of cinematic shorthand. Just as, in general, our sense of cinema's connotations depends on understood comparisons of t h e image with images that were not chosen (paradigmatic) a n d images that came before and after (syntagmatic), so our sense of the cultural connotations depends u p o n u n d e r s t o o d comparisons of t h e part w i t h t h e w h o l e (synecdoche) and associated details with ideas (metonymy). Cinema is an art and a medium of extensions and indexes. Much of its meaning comes not from what we see (or hear) but from what w e don't see or, more accurately, from a n ongoing
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Figure 3-14. M E T O N Y M Y . In Claude Chabrol's Leda (1959), Andre Jocelyn portrays a schizophrenic character. The image in the cracked mirror is a simple, logical metonymy.
process of comparison of what we see with what we don't see. This is ironic, considering that cinema at first glance seems to be an art that is all too evident, one that is often criticized for "leaving nothing to the imagination." Quite the contrary is true. In a film of strict denotation, images and sounds are quite easily a n d directly understood. But very few films are strictly denotative; they can't help but be connotative, "for to speak [film] is partly to invent it." The observer w h o adamantly resists, of course, can choose to ignore the connotative power of film, but the observer w h o has learned to read film has available a multitude of connotations. Alfred Hitchcock, for example, m a d e a n u m b e r of very p o p u l a r films in a career that spanned m o r e t h a n half a century. We could ascribe his critical and popular success to the subjects of his filmscertainly the thriller strikes a deep responsive chord in audiencesbut then h o w do w e account for the failed thrillers of his imitators? In truth, the drama of film, its attraction, lies not so m u c h in what is shot (that's the drama of the subject), but in h o w it is shot and h o w it is presented. And as thousands of commentators have attested, Hitchcock was the master par excellence of these two critical tasks. The drama of filmmaking in large part lies in the brainwork of these closely associated sets of decisions. Highly "liter-
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Figure 3-15. SYNECDOCHE. Giuliana in Red Desert, again, this time surrounded and nearly overwhelmed by industrial machinery, a "part" that stands for the "whole" of her urban society. It isn't this ship or the dockside ganglion of pipes that oppress her, but the larger reality they represent.
ate" filmgoers appreciate Hitchcock's superb cinematic intelligence on a conscious level, less literate filmgoers on an unconscious level, but the intelligence has its effect, nevertheless. O n e more element remains to be added to the lexicon of film semiotics: the trope. In literary theory, a trope is a "turn of phrase" or a "change of sense"; in other words, a logical twist that gives the elements of a signthe signifier and the signifieda n e w relationship to each other. The trope is therefore the connecting element between denotation and connotation. W h e n a rose is a rose is a rose it isn't anything else, and its meaning as a sign is strictly denotative. But w h e n a rose is something else, a "turning" has been made and the sign is opened up to n e w meanings. The m a p of film semiotics w e have described so far has been static. The concept of the trope allows us to view it dynamically, as actions rather than facts. As we have noted in earlier chapters, one of the great sources of power in film is that it can reproduce the tropes of most of the other arts. There is also a set of tropes that it has made its own. We have described the way they operate in general in the first part of this chapter. Given an image of a rose, we at first have only its iconic or symbolic denotative meaning, which is static. But w h e n we begin to
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Figure 3-16. S Y N E C D O C H E . Juliet Berto in Godard's La Chinoise (1967) has constructed a theoretical barricade of Chairman Mao's "Little Red Books," parts that stand for the whole of Marxist/Leninist/Maoist ideology with w h i c h the group of "gauchistes" to w h i c h she belongs protect themselves, and from w h i c h they intend to launch an attack on bourgeois society. The terms " s y n e c d o c h e " and " m e t o n y m y " l i k e " I c o n , " "Index," and " S y m b o l " a r e , of course, imprecise. They are theoretical constructs that may be useful as aids to analysis; they are not strict definitions. This particular synecdoche, for example, might be better classified as a metonymy in w h i c h the little red books are associated details rather than parts standing for the whole. (The decision itself has ideological overtones!) Likewise, although this image seems easiest to classify as Indexical, there are certainly elements of the Iconic and Symbolic in it.
expand the possibilities through tropes of comparison, the image comes alive: as a connotative index, in terms of the paradigm of possible shots, in the syntagmatic context of its associations in the him, as it is used metaphorically as a m e t o n y m y or a synecdoche. There are undoubtedly other categories of film semiotics yet to be discovered, analyzed, propagated. In n o sense is the system shown in the chart below meant to be either exhaustive or immutable. Semiotics is most definitely not a science in the sense that physics or biology is a science. But it is a logical, often illuminating system that helps to describe h o w film does w h a t it does. Film is difficult to explain because it is easy to understand. The semiotics of film is easy to explain because it is difficult to understand. Somewhere between lies the genius of film.
Film has n o grammar. There are, however, some vaguely defined rules of usage in cinematic language, and the syntax of filmits systematic arrangementorders these rules and indicates relationships among them. As with written and spoken languages, it is important to remember that the syntax of film is a result of its usage, not a determinant of it. There is nothing preordained about film syntax. Rather, it evolved naturally as certain devices were found in practice to be both workable and useful. Like the syntax of written and spoken language, the syntax of film is a n organic development, descriptive rather t h a n prescriptive, and it has changed considerably over the years. The "Hollywood Grammar" described below m a y sound laughable now, but during the thirties, forties, and early fifties it was an accurate model of the w a y Hollywood films were constructed. In written/spoken language systems, syntax deals only with w h a t w e might call the linear aspect of construction: that is, the ways in w h i c h words are p u t together in a chain to form phrases a n d sentences, w h a t in film w e call the syntagmatic category. In film, however, syntax can also include spatial composition, for which there is n o parallel in language systems like English and Frenchwe can't say or write several things at the same time. So film syntax m u s t include b o t h development in time a n d development in space. In film criticism, generally, the modification of space is referred to as "miseen-scene." The French phrase literally means "putting in the scene." The modification of time is called "montage" (from the French for "putting together"). As we shall see in Chapter 4, the tension between these twin concepts of mise-en-scene a n d montage has b e e n the engine of film esthetics ever since the Lumieres and Melies first explored the practical possibilities of each at the turn of the century. Over the years, theories of mise-en-scene have tended to be closely associated with film realism, while montage has been seen as essentially expressionistic, yet these pairings are deceptive. Certainly it would seem that mise-en-scene would indicate a high regard for the subject in front of the camera, while montage would give the filmmaker more control over the manipulation of the subject, but despite these natural tendencies, there are m a n y occasions w h e n m o n t a g e can be the more realistic of the two alternatives, and mise-en-scene the more expressionistic. Take, for example, the problem of choosing between a pan from one subject to another and a cut. Most people would say that the cut is more manipulative, that it interrupts and remodels reality, and that therefore the pan is the more realistic of the two alternatives, since it preserves the integrity of the space. Yet, in fact, the reverse is t r u e if w e j u d g e p a n n i n g a n d cutting from the point of view of t h e observer. W h e n w e redirect our attention from one subject to another we seldom actually p a n . Psychologically, the cut is the truer approximation of our natural
Syntax
Figure 3 - 1 7 . TROPE. An ant-covered Un not hand from Dali and classic Buhuel's Chien easily surrealist Andalou analyzed. Sympresent:
(1928).
image, Iconic,
the image is striking for its own sake; it is a measure of the infestation of the soul of the owner of the h a n d ; it is certainly symbolic of a more general malaise, as well. It is metonymic, because the ants are an also for "associated detail"; it is because the synecdochic, the whole.
the hand is a part that stands Finally, source of the image seems to be a trope: a verbal pun on the French idiom, "avoir des fourmis dans les mains," "to have ants in the h a n d , " an expression equivalent to the English " m y hand is asleep." By illustrating the turn of phrase literally, Dali and Buhuel extended the trope so that a c o m m o n experience is turned into a striking sign of decay. (I a m indebted to David B o m b y k for this analysis.) (MOMA/FSA.)
perception. First o n e subject has o u r attention, t h e n the other; w e are seldom interested in the intervening space, yet the cinematic pan draws our attention to just that.* It was Andre Bazin, the influential French critic of the f 950s, w h o more than a n y o n e developed the connections b e t w e e n mise-en-scene a n d realism o n the one hand, and montage and expressionism on the other. At about the same time, in the middle fifties, Jean-Luc Godard was working out a synthesis of the twin notions of mise-en-scene and montage that was considerably more sophisticated t h a n Bazin's binary opposition. For Godard, mise-en-scene a n d m o n t a g e w e r e divested of ethical and esthetic connotations: montage simply did in time w h a t It has been suggested that the zip pan, in which the camera moves so quickly that the image in between the original subject and its successor is blurred, would be the most verisimilitudinous handling of the problem. But even this alternative draws attention to itself, which is precisely what does not happen in normal perception. Perhaps the perfect analogue with reality would be the direct cut in which the two shots were separated by a single black frame (or better yet, a neutral gray frame), which would duplicate the time (approximately 1/20 of a second) each saccadic movement of the eye takes!
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Figure 3-18. METONYMIC GESTURE. Max von Sydow suffers in Ingmar Bergman's
Hourol
the
Wolf'(1967)...
mise-en-scene did in space. Both are principles of organization, and to say that mise-en-scene (space) is more "realistic" than montage (time) is illogical, according to Godard. In his essay "Montage, m o n beau souci" (1956) Godard redefined montage as an integral part of mise-en-scene. Setting u p a scene is as m u c h an organizing of time as of space. The aim of this is to discover in film a psychological reality that transcends physical, plastic reality. There are two corollaries to Godard's synthesis: first, mise-en-scene can therefore be every bit as expressionistic as montage w h e n a filmmaker uses it to distort reality; second, psychological reality (as opposed to verisimilitude) may be better served by a strategy that allows montage to play a central role. (See Chapter 5.) In addition to the psychological complexities that enter into a comparison of montage and mise-en-scene, there is a perceptual factor that complicates matters. We have already noted that montage can be mimicked within the shot. Likewise, m o n t a g e can m i m i c m i s e - e n - s c e n e . Hitchcock's n o t o r i o u s s h o w e r m u r d e r sequence in Psycho is an outstanding example of this p h e n o m e n o n . Seventy separate shots in less than a minute of screen time are fused together psychologically into a continuous experience: a frightening and graphic knife attack. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts (see Figure 3-21).
Syntax
communicative facets of film signification. "Kinesics," or "body language," is basically an Indexical, metonymic system of meaning. Here, von Sydow's pose conveys the same basic meaning in each film: the hand covers the face, shields it from the outside world; the knees are pulled up close almost in the fetal position, to protect the body; the ego has shrunk into a protective shell, a sense further emphasized in the shot from Shame by the framed box of the wooden stairway von Sydow is sitting on. Texture supports gesture in both shots: both backgroundsone exterior, one interiorare rough, barren, uninviting. The differences between the shots are equally as meaningful as the similarities. In Hour of the Wolf, von Sydow's character is relatively more open, relaxed: so is the pose. In Shame the character (at this point in the narrative) is mortified, a sense emphasized by both the tighter pose and the more distanced composition of the shot.
Codes
The structure of cinema is defined by the codes in which it operates and the codes that operate within it. Codes are critical constructionssystems of logical relationshipderived after the fact of film. They are not preexisting laws that the filmmaker consciously observes. A great variety of codes combine to form the m e d i u m in which film expresses meaning. There are culturally derived codes those that exist outside film and that filmmakers simply reproduce (the way people eat, for example). There are a n u m b e r of codes that cinema shares with the
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Diagram H. READING THE IMAGE: The image is experienced as both an optical and a mental p h e n o m e n o n . The optical pattern is read saccadically; the mental experience is the result of the s u m of cultural determinants, and is f o r m e d by it. Both optical a n d mental intellection c o m b i n e in the c o n c e p t of the sign, where signifier (s) is related to signified (s'). The signifier is more optical t h a n mental; the signified, more mental then optical. All three levels of readingsaccadic, semiotic, a n d c u l t u r a l t h e n c o m b i n e with each other in various ways to p r o d u c e m e a n i n g , either essentially denotative or essentially connotative.
other arts (for instance, gesture, which is a code of theater as well as film). And there are those codes that are u n i q u e to cinema. (Montage is the prime example.) The culturally derived codes and the shared artistic codes are vital to cinema, naturally, b u t it is the u n i q u e codes, those that form the specific syntax of film, that most concern us here. Perhaps "unique" is not a completely accurate adjective. Not even the most specifically cinematic codes, those of montage, are truly u n i q u e to cinema. Certainly, cinema emphasizes t h e m a n d utilizes t h e m more t h a n other arts do, yet something like montage has always existed in the novel. Any storyteller is capable of switching scenes in midstream. "Meanwhile, back at the ranch," is clearly not a n invention of cinema. More important, for nearly a century film art has had its o w n strong influence on the older arts. Not only did something like montage exist prior to 1900 in prose narrative, but also since that time, novelists, increasingly influenced by film, have learned gradually to make their narratives even more like cinema.
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177
Diagram I. U N D E R S T A N D I N G THE IMAGE: We u n d e r s t a n d an image not only for itself, but in context: in relation to categories of c h o i c e (paradigmatic) a n d in relation to categories of c o n s t r u c t i o n (syntagmatic). T h e categories of c h o i c e are variously denotative or connotative, a n d each variety, none of w h o s e b o u n d a r i e s are sharply d e f i n e d , is c h a r a c terized by the relationship between signifier a n d signified. In the iconic image, signifier is identical with signified. In symbols the signifier is equal to t h e signified, but not identical. In m e t o n y m i e s a n d s y n e c d o c h e s , signifier is similar in s o m e way to signified, w h i l e in tropes, t h e signifier is not equal to (distinctly different f r o m ) the signified. Here t h e relat i o n s h i p is considerably more t e n u o u s . In indexes, signifier a n d signified are c o n g r u e n t . Syntagmatic relationship (categories of construction) operate either in space or in t i m e : s y n c h r o n i c p h e n o m e n a h a p p e n at the s a m e t i m e , or w i t h o u t regard to t i m e , w h i l e d i a c h r o n i c p h e n o m e n a h a p p e n across t i m e , or w i t h i n it. ( H e r e , t h e w o r d s " s y n c h r o n i c " a n d " d i a c h r o n i c " carry their simplest m e a n i n g s . They are also used w i t h m o r e specific definitions generally in semiotics a n d linguistics, in w h i c h case s y n c h r o n i c linguistics is descriptive, w h i l e d i a c h r o n i c linguistics is historical.) Finally, w e m u s t note that m a n y of t h e c o n c e p t s expressed in this c h a r t are t r u e for s o u n d s as well as images, a l t h o u g h usually to a considerably lesser extent. While it is t r u e that w e d o not read s o u n d s saccadically, w e nevertheless f o c u s psychologically on particular s o u n d s w i t h i n the total auditory experience, j u s t as w e " b l o c k o u t " u n w a n t e d or useless noise. While s o u n d m u s t s e e m , in general, far more denotative a n d iconic t h a n image, it is nevertheless possible to a p p l y t h e c o n c e p t s of s y m b o l , index, m e t o n y m y , s y n e c d o c h e , a n d trope, if t h e necessary c h a n g e s are m a d e .
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Syntax
179
Figure 3-20. Mise-en-scene or montage? A crucial scene in Bergman's Face to Face, this was shot from a hallway giving a "split screen" view of two rooms. Instead of cutting from the action in one to the action in the other, Bergman presented both simultaneously while keeping the action in each separate. The cross-cutting dialectic of montage is thus made an integral element of mise-en-scene. {Frame enlargement.)
transmitted. The specifically cinematic codes together with a n u m b e r of shared codes make u p the syntax of film.
Mise-en-Scene
Three questions confront the filmmaker: What to shoot? How to shoot it? How to present the shot? The domain of the first two questions is mise-en-scene, that of the last, montage. Mise-en-scene is often regarded as static, montage as dynamic. This is not the case. Because we read the shot, we are actively involved with it. The codes of mise-en-scene are the tools with which the filmmaker alters and modifies our reading of the shot. Since the shot is such a large unit of meaning, it m a y be useful to separate a discussion of its components into two parts.
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Figure 3 - 2 1 . Hitchcock's spellbinding shower murder in Psycho (1959) has become notorious over the years for its vertiginous editing, yet the bathroom murder was not a new idea. {From Anobile. Frame Psycho. 1974. Ed. by Richard J. enlargement.)
Figure 3-22. Several years earlier Henri-Georges Clouzot's Diabolique had shocked audiences with an altogether quieter but no less eerie murder scene. (Paul Meurisse is the victim.) (Walter Daran. Time/Life Picture Time Inc. enlargement.) Agency. Frame
Figure 3-23. Psycho's star, Anthony Perkins, cowrote the script for Herbert Ross's The Last of Sheila (1973). Joan Hackett attempted suicide in an elegant shipboard bath.
Syntax
THE CODE BATHTUB/SHOWER
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Figure 3-24. Murder isn't the only activity that takes place in tubs. In Godard's poetic essay Pierrot le fou (1965), Jean-Paul Belmondo relaxed in a t u b as he shared some thoughts on the painter Velazquez with his daughter. Frame (I'Avant-Scene. enlargement.)
Figure 3 - 2 5 . In JeanCharles Tacchella's Cousin, cousine (1975), Marie-France Pisier settled into an empty t u b in contemplation.
Figure 3-26. Gian Maria Volonte found some surcease from exile in a remote Italian village in an old-fashioned t u b . Irene Papas assisted in Francesco Rosi's Christ Stopped at Eboli (1979).
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Figure 3-27. In the late seventies, the bath became a focus of contemporary California life with the rise in popularity of the hot t u b . Stacey Nolkin took a call in Serial(1980).
Figure 3-29. In a variant, Kevin Kline as President showers in Ivan Reitman's Dave (1993). Weaver is surprised. {Frame enlargement.)
Syntax
I HE CODE BATHTUB/SHOWER
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Figure 3-30. The bathtub code extends as far back as Jacques-Louis David's The Death of Marat (1793), shocking because of its intimate realism. {Oil on canvas. 65" by Royal Museum 501/2". of Fine Arts, Brussels.)
The Framed
Image
All the codes that operate within the frame, without regard to the chronological axis of film, are shared with the other pictorial arts. The number and range of these codes is great, and they have been developed and refined in painting, sculpture, and photography over the course of thousands of years. Basic texts in the visual arts examine the three determinants of color, line, and form, and certainly each of the visual codes of film fits within one of these rubrics. Rudolf Arnheim, in his highly influential study Art and Visual Perception, suggested ten areas of concern: Balance, Shape, Form, Growth, Space, Light, Color, Movement, Tension, and Expression. Clearly, a full exposition of the codes operating in the film frame would be a lengthy undertaking. We can, however, describe briefly the basic aspects of the syntax of the frame. Two aspects of the framed image are most important: the limitations that the frame imposes, and the composition of the image within the frame (and without necessary regard to it). Since the frame determines the limit of the image, the choice of an aspect ratio suggests the possibilities of composition. With the self-justification that has been
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endemic to the elusive subject of film esthetics, early theoreticians w a x e d eloquent over the value of the Academy aperture, the f .33 ratio. W h e n widescreen ratios b e c a m e p o p u l a r in t h e 1950s, the classical estheticians b e m o a n e d the destruction of the symmetry they perceived in the Academy aperture, but, as we demonstrated in Chapter 2, there was nothing sacred about the ratio of 4:3. The question is not which ratio is "proper" but rather which codes yield themselves to exploitation in which ratios? Before the mid-fifties, it seems, interiors and dialogue dominated American and foreign screens. After the introduction of the widescreen formats in the 1950s, exteriors, location shooting, and action sequences grew in importance. This is a crude generalization, but there is some useful truth to it. It's n o t important w h e t h e r there was a cause-and-effect relationship between the two historical developments, only that wide screens permitted more efficient exploitation of action and landscape codes. CinemaScope and Panavision width ratios (2.33 and above) do make it more difficult, as the old Hollywood estheticians had suggested, to photograph intimate conversations. Whereas the classic two-shot of the 1.33 screen size tended to focus attention o n speaker and listener, the very wide anamorphic ratios cannot
Syntax
Figure 3-32. ... and Angie Dickinson in Brian De Palma's Dressed to Kill (1980). (Compare the hands here and in Figure 3-33.)
avoid also p h o t o g r a p h i n g the space either b e t w e e n t h e m or beside t h e m and therefore calling attention to their relationship to the space surrounding them. This is neither "better" nor "worse"; it simply changes the code of the two-shot. The filmmaker can also change the dimensions of the frame during the course of the film by masking the image, either artificially or naturally through composition. This has been an important aspect of the syntax of frame shape ever since D. W. Griffith first explored its possibilities. Just as important as the actual frame size, although less easily perceived, is the filmmaker's attitude toward the limit of the frame. If the image of the frame is self-sufficient, then we can speak of it as a "closed form." Conversely, if the filmm a k e r has composed the shot in such a w a y that w e are always subliminally aware of the area outside the frame, then the form is considered to be "open." Open and closed forms are closely associated with the elements of m o v e m e n t in the frame. If the camera tends to follow the subject faithfully, the form tends to be closed; if, on the other hand, the filmmaker allowseven encouragesthe subject to leave the frame and reenter, the form is obviously open. The relationship between the m o v e m e n t within the frame and the m o v e m e n t of the camera is one of the more sophisticated codes, and specifically cinematic. Hollywood's classic syntax was identified in part by a relatively tightly closed form. The masters of the Hollywood style of the thirties and forties tried never to allow the subject to leave the frame (it was considered daring even if the subject did not occupy the center of the 1.33 frame). In the sixties and seventies, film-
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Figure 3-33. The Academy aperture two-shot. Spencer Tracy and Katharine H e p b u r n in George Cukor's Pat and Mike (1952). More intimate and involving t h a n . . .
makers like Michelangelo Antonioni were equally faithful to the open widescreen form because it emphasizes the spaces between people. Most elements of compositional syntax do not depend strictly on the frame for their definition. If the image faded at the edges like a vignette (which itself is one of the minor devices of the framing code), such codes as intrinsic interest, proximity, depth perception, angle of approach, and lighting would work just as well as they do in frames with sharply defined limits. The filmmaker, like most pictorial artists, composes in three dimensions. This doesn't m e a n necessarily that h e is trying to convey three-dimensional (or stereoscopic) information. It m e a n s that there are three sets of compositional codes: One concerns the plane of the image (most important, naturally, since the image is, after all, two-dimensional). One deals with the geography of the space photographed (its plane is parallel with the ground and the horizon). The third involves the plane of depth perception, perpendicular to both the frame plane and the geographical plane. Figure 3-40 visualizes these three planes of composition. Naturally, these planes interlock. No filmmaker analyzes precisely h o w each single plane influences the composition, but decisions are made that focus attention o n pairs of planes. Clearly, the plane of the frame must be dominant, since
Syntax
187
that is the only plane that actually exists o n t h e screen. Composition for this plane, however, is often influenced by factors in the geographical plane since, unless we are dealing with animation, a photographer or cinematographer must compose for the frame plane in the geographical plane. Likewise, the geographical plane and the plane of depth perception are coordinated, since m u c h of our ability to perceive depth in two-dimensional representations as well as three-dimensional reality depends o n p h e n o m e n a in the geographical plane. In fact, percept i o n of d e p t h d e p e n d s o n m a n y i m p o r t a n t factors o t h e r t h a n b i n o c u l a r stereoscopic vision, which is w h y film presents such a strong illusion of threedimensional space and w h y stereoscopic Him techniques are relatively useless.
* If so-called 3-D film t e c h n i q u e s simply a d d e d t h e o n e r e m a i n i n g factor to d e p t h perception, t h e r e w o u l d be n o problem w i t h t h e m . The difficulty is t h a t t h e y actually distort o u r perception of d e p t h , since t h e y d o n ' t allow us to focus o n a single plane, as w e do naturally, and since t h e y tend to p r o d u c e disturbing pseudostereoscopic a n d pseudoscopic stereoscopic images.
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Figure 3-35.
Michelangelo
Antonioni was well known for his sensitivity to architectural metaphor. This naturally masked shot from Eclipse
(1962)
Delon and Monica Vitti and calls attention to the comparison to be made between Vitti and the portrait on the wall behind her.
Figure 3-41 illustrates s o m e of t h e m o s t i m p o r t a n t psychological factors strongly influencing d e p t h perception. Overlapping takes place in t h e frame plane, but the three othersconvergence, relative size, and density gradient depend on the geographical plane. We've already discussed in Chapter 2 h o w various lens types affect depth perception (and linear distortion as well). A photographer modifies, suppresses, or reinforces the effects of lens types through composition of the image within the frame. Here are some other examples of h o w the codes of the compositional planes interact: Proximity and proportion are important subcodes. Stage actors are forever mindful of them. Obviously, the closer the subject, the more important it seems. As a result, a n actor in the theater is always in danger of being "upstaged" by other members of the company. In film, of course, the director has complete control over position, and reverse angles help to redress the balance. Figure 3-42, a classic shot from Citizen Kane (1941), gives us a more sophisticated example of the significance of proximity and proportion. Kane enters the room at the rear; his wife is in bed in the midground; a bottle of sleeping medicine looms large in the foreground. The three are connected by their placement in the frame. Reverse the order and the medicine bottle would disappear into the background of the shot.
Syntax
189
Figure 3-36. Antonioni was obsessed with widescreen composition.This shot from Red Desert demonstrates his architectural formalism. [Frame enlargement.)
One of the aspects of composition that differentiates Baroque from late Renaissance painting is the shift from the "square" orientation of the geographic plane to the oblique. There were several reasons for thisone was the quest for greater verisimilitude: the oblique composition emphasized the space of the painting, w h e r e a s the symmetrical Renaissance compositional standard emphasized its design. The net effect, however, was to increase the psychological drama of the design: geographical obliques translate into the plane of the frame as diagonals, which are read as inherently more active than horizontals and verticals. Here, as in the earlier examples, there is a relationship between compositional factors in separate planes. Eventually the geographic and depth planes "feed" information to the plane of the frame. This is truer in painting and photography, which don't have the ability film does to move physicaily into the pictorial space, but it is still generally true in cinema as well. The frame plane is the only "real" plane. Most elements of composition, therefore, realize themselves in this plane. The empty frame, contrary to expectations, is not a tabula rasa. Even before the image appears, we invest the potential space of the frame with certain qualities, ones which have been measured scientifically: our natural tendency to read depth into the two-dimensional design, for instance. Latent expectations determine intrinsic interest. Figures 3-43 and 3-44 demonstrate this, fn 3-43, both verticals are precisely the same length, yet the left-hand line looks m u c h longer. This is because we read the angles at top and bottom as representative of corners, the left receding, the right intruding. If both lines seem to be equal, we then calculate
forlorn figure of B o u d u , about to j u m p into the Seine, by vignetting the image. The masking has a literal function as well: Boudu (Michel Simon) is seen through a telescope in this shot. {I'Avant-Scene. Frame enlargement.)
that the line o n the left must be longer, since it is "farther away." In Figure 3-44, which stairway ascends and which descends? The "correct" answers are that A ascends and B descends. The trick is in the verbs, of course, since stairs always go both u p and d o w n . But since Westerners tend to read from left to right, we see stair A ascending and stair B descending. So, even before the image appears, the frame is invested with meaning. The bottom is m o r e "important" t h a n the top, left comes before right, the bottom is stable, the top unstable; diagonals from bottom left to top right go "up" from stability to instability. Horizontals will also be given more weight than verticals: confronted with horizontal and vertical lines of equal length, w e tend to read the horizontal as longer, a p h e n o m e n o n emphasized by the dimensions of the frame. W h e n the image does appear, form, line, and color are impressed with these latent values in the frame. Form, line, and color also have their o w n inherent values of weight and direction. If sharp lines exist in the design of the image, we tend to read along t h e m from left to right. An object with a "light" inherent significance (Mrs. Kane's medicine bottle) can be given "heavy" significance through shape.
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191
Figure 3 - 3 8 . CLOSED FORM. The notorious stateroom scene from A Night at the Opera (Sam Wood, 1935) must be the zenith of Hollywood-style closed form! The brothers are c r a m p e d in the frame, as well as in the stateroom.
moving to the left out of the frame, Meril is walking to the right out of the frame and looking back toward the left; the car in the background is moving diagonally up out of the frame. The design elements of the shot conspire to make us aware of the continuous space beyond the limits of the frame. {French Film Office.)
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Figure 3-40. THE THREE PLANES OF COMPOSITION: The plane of the image; the geography of the photographic space; the axis of depth perception.
Figure 3-41. CONVENTIONS OF DEPTH PERCEPTION. Four major conventions of depth perception are illustrated here: convergence (the boundaries of the road), relative size (the near and far balls), density gradient (of shade on the left, of lines on the right), and overlapping (the balls on the right).
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Figure 3-42. Dorothy Comingore (in shadow), Orson Welles, and Joseph Cotten in Welles's Citizen Kane (1941). It is not the material of the shot but its design that tells the story. {Sight and Sound.)
And color, of course, adds an entirely n e w dimension. Hitchcock begins Mamie (1964) with a close shot of his heroine's bright yellow pocketbook. The other color values of the scene are neutral. The sense is of the pocketbook carrying the w o m a n rather than vice versa, just the effect Hitchcock wants, considering that the yellow bulge contains the m o n e y Marnie had just stolen and that her life, as we later see, is dominated by her kleptomania. Before we learn any of this narratively, we "know" it. {Marnie is also an excellent example of other types of color dominance, since the subject of the film is color symbolism: Marnie suffers from rosophobia.) Elements of form, line, and color all carry their o w n intrinsic interests, significant weights that counteract, reinforce, counterpoint, or balance each other in complex systems, each read against our latent expectations of the frame and with the senses of composition in depth and planar design combined. Multiple images (split screen) and superimpositions (double exposures, et cetera), although they are seldom used, can multiply the intrinsic weights by factors of two, three, four, or more. Texture, although it is not often m e n t i o n e d w h e n speaking of film esthetics, is also important, not only in terms of the inherent texture of the subject but also in terms of the textureor grainof the image. One illustration will suffice: we have learned to associate graininess with enlargement,
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Figure
3-43.
THE MULLER-LYER I L L U S I O N . Both verticals are the same length, yet the left-hand line looks m u c h longer. We read the angles at top and bottom as corners, the left receding, the right intruding. If both lines seem to be equal, we think the line on the left must be longer, since it is "further away."
Figure
3-44.
UPSTAIRS/DOWNSTAIRS I L L U S I O N . W h i c h stairway ascends and which descends? Since Westerners tend to read from left to right, w e see stair A ascending and stair B descending.
and with documentary. The filmmaker therefore has this code at his command. A grainy image signifies a "truthful" one. The grain of enlargement a n d its significance as a barrier to comprehension provided the basic metaphor of Antonioni's 1966 film Blow-up. Perhaps the most important tool the filmmaker can use to modify the m e a n ings of form, line, a n d color, a n d their intrinsic interests, is lighting. In the days w h e n filmstock was relatively insensitive (before the 1960s), artificial lighting was a requisite, a n d filmmakers m a d e a virtue of necessity, as always. The German Expressionists of the twenties borrowed the code of chiaroscuro from painting to dramatic effectit allowed t h e m to emphasize design over verisimilitude. The classical Hollywood cinematographic style w a n t e d a m o r e natural effect a n d so developed a system of balanced "key" lights and "fill" lights (see Figure 3-50) that provided thorough but not overt illumination and therefore presented a minimal barrier b e t w e e n observer a n d subject. At its best, this sophisticated system was capable of some extraordinary, subtle effects, yet it was inherently unrealistic; w e seldom observe natural scenes that have b o t h the very high light level and the carefully balanced fill that m a r k the Hollywood style (and that is perpetuated today in both theatrical and television productions). The d e v e l o p m e n t of fast filmstocks permitted a n e w latitude in t h e code of lighting, a n d today most cinematographers w o r k for verisimilitude rather t h a n classic Hollywood balance. Needless to say, all the lighting codes that operate in photography operate in film as well. Full front lighting washes out a subject; overhead lighting dominates it; lighting from below makes it lugubrious; highlighting can call attention to
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composition. That the line of the table moves down from left to right disorients us even further. The observer in the frame strains, stretches his neck to see. The low angle of the shot increases our sense of foreboding. Most important, the trope of the magnified eye is doubled and redoubled with typically Wellesian irony by the echoing circles of the top hat and the light above. The "cheat" here is that the magnifying glass is positioned for our use, not Auer's. {I'Avant-Scene. Frame enlargement.)
details (hair and eyes most often); backlighting can either dominate a subject or highlight it; sidelighting is capable of dramatic chiaroscuro effect. Aspect ratio; open and closed form; frame, geographic, and depth planes; depth perception; proximity and proportion; intrinsic interest of color, form, and line; weight and direction; latent expectation; oblique versus symmetric composition; texture; and lighting. These are the major codes operating within the static film frame. In terms of the diachronic shot, however, we have just begun. The Diachronic Shot Filmmakers use a wealth of terminology in regard to the shot. The factors that n o w come into play include distance, focus, angle, movement, and point of view. Some of these elements also operate within the static frame, but all are more appropriately discussed as dynamic qualities. Shot distance is the simplest variable. So-called "normal" shots include the full shot, three-quarter shot, medium shot (or mid-shot), and head-and-shoulders shotall defined in terms of the
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Figure 3 - 4 7 . ... The second, from The Ambersons Magnificent (1942), suggests enlargement.)
Figure 3-48. ... The third, from The Lady from Shanghai (1947), is from the famous mirror sequence in that film: will we survive the nightmare? {TAvant-Scene. enlargement.) Frame
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Figure 3-49. KEY LIGHTS AND FILL LIGHTS. The key light, usually at a 4 5 angle to the camera-subject axis, provides the main source of illumination. The smaller fill light softens the shadows in this classic Hollywood lighting technique.
a m o u n t of subject viewed. Closeups, long shots, and extreme long shots complete the range of distances. Note that n o n e of these terms has anything to do with the focal length of the lens used. As w e saw in Chapter 2, in addition to being defined in terms of the distance of the camera from the subject, shots are also n a m e d for their lenses. Note, too, that in practice these terms are loosely used. One person's closeup is another's "detail shot," and n o Academy of film has (so far) sat in deep deliberation deciding the precise point at which a medium shot becomes a long shot, or a long shot metamorphoses into an extreme long shot. Nevertheless, within limits, the concepts are valid. A film shot mainly in closeupsCarl Dreyer's The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928), for exampledeprives us of setting and is therefore disorienting, claustrophobic. The effect can be striking. On the other hand, a film shot mainly in long shot many of Roberto Rossellini's later historical essays, for instanceemphasizes context over drama and dialectic over personality. The code of shot distance is simple, but to a large extent it controls which of the m a n y other codes of film we may use.
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Figure 3-50. LIGHTING C O M B I N A T I O N S FROM " T H E I N T E R F A C E " : (A) Key light. Two key lights were used here. (B) Back light. (C) Fill light. (D) Key light and fill light. (E) Back light and fill light. (F) Key light and fill light. (G) The final composition: key, fill, and back lights.
Figure 3 - 5 1 . H O L L Y W O O D
in Vincente
Minnelli's Meet Me in St. Louis (1944). The set is vibrantly, thoroughly lit. There are only the faintest hints of shadows, even in the back room, which is out of focus. Since this was a Technicolor film, the lighting is even stronger than it might have been for black-and-white.
emphasize its power. Interestingly, the eye-level shot, the least obtrusive, is not always so easily defined. The Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu is well k n o w n for the constant low-angle of his style, yet Ozu wasn't really trying to distort the basic design of his image: h e was merely shooting from the eye level of a Japanese observer seated on a tatami mat. "Eye level," of course, depends on the eye of the beholder. Even in European and American cinema, the subtle differences among eye levels, although not immediately remarkable, can have significant effects over the course of a film. The third angle variable, roll, is determined by the m o v e m e n t of the camera around the last remaining axis, the horizontal that parallels the axis of the lens. Possibly because this axis represents the metaphysical bond between the observer (or camera) and the subject, possibly because roll destroys the stability of the horizon, the camera is very seldom revolved around this axis. The only c o m m o n roll movement that comes to mind is that sometimes used to mimic the movements of the h o r i z o n as seen from t h e b o a t in h e a v y seas. Roll m o v e m e n t (or t h e oblique horizon of a static shot) is the only change of camera angle that does not
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Figure 3-52.
H I G H L I G H T I N G .
terribles
significantly alter our focus of attention. To pan or to tilt is to change images; to roll is simply to alter the original image. The camera not only revolves around these three axes, it is also moved from one point to another: hence "tracking" shots (also called trucking or dolly shots) and "crane" shots. The zoom shot, as discussed in Chapter 2, mimics the effect of a track in or track back, but not precisely. In the zoom, since the camera does not move, the relationships among objects in different planes remain the same; there is n o sense of entering into the scene; our perspective remains constant, even if the image is enlarged. In the track, however, we do move physically into the scene; the spatial relationships among objects shift, as does our perspective. Although the zoom is often an inexpensive alternative to the tracking shot, its effect is strangely distancing: we seem to move closer without getting any nearer, and that is disorienting, since we have no such experience in real life for comparison. Just as debates have evolved between proponents of deep focus and shallow focus, and between champions of mise-en-scene and montage, so, too, the moving camera has its adherents and detractors. Because it continually changes our perspective, the tracking shot significantly increases o u r perception of depth. More important, the moving camera has an inherent ethical dimension. It can be used in two essentially different ways (like focus shifts, pans, and tilts): either to follow the subject or to change it. The first alternative strongly emphasizes the centrality of the subject of the film; the second shifts interest from subject to cam-
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Figure 3-53. Backlighting is one of the more interesting lighting codes taken f r o m painting. Here, a relatively early example from painting, Constance Marie Charpentier's Mile Charlotte du val d'Ognes (c. 1801). The light source highlights the subject's hair a n d the folds of her dress. Although there is no perceivable light source from the front, details are nevertheless evident and the shadows are soft and elegant. (Oil on canvas, 601/2" politan Museum by 50 5/8", The Metroof Art, The Mr. and Collection. 1917.)
Figure 3 - 5 4 . Jean-Luc Godard is one filmmaker w h o has been intrigued by this code. By the time of Weekend (1968), f r o m w h i c h this shot comes, he had abstracted the backlit shot to the extreme of silhouette. The lighting is harsh, bold, and overwhelms the s u b ject. In order to search out detail in the shot we have to work, w h i c h makes us feel, faced with the bright window, not unlike voyeursexactly the effect Godard wants. Jean Yanne and Mireille Dare in Weekend ( 1 9 6 8 ) . enlargement.) {Frame
Figure 3-55. Woody Allen achieved an entirely different feel in this equally harshly backlit shot from Manhattan (1979). The silhouettes of Diane Keaton and Allen are instantly recognizable at a cocktail party in the garden of the M u s e u m of Modern Art.
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Figure 3-56. In addition to widescreen architectural composition, Antonioni was fascinated by the focus code. Here, in Red Desert, Monica Vitti enters the frame out of focus (just like her character). {Frame enlargement.)
era, from object to filmmaker. As Andre Bazin has pointed out, these are ethical questions, since they determine the h u m a n relationships a m o n g artist, subject, and observer. Although some estheticians insist that the m o v i n g camera, because it calls attention to the filmmaker, is s o m e h o w less ethical than the stationary camera, this is as specious a differentiation as the earlier dichotomies b e t w e e n mise-enscene and montage and between deep and shallow focus. A tracking or crane shot need not necessarily shift interest from subject to camera; it can, rather, call attention to the relationship b e t w e e n the two, which is arguably both m o r e realistic and more ethical, since there is in fact a relationship. Indeed, m a n y of the best and most lyrical tracking shots are t h e cinematic equivalents of making love, as the filmmaker courts, then unites with his subject; the track becomes the relationship, a n d the shot a synthesis of filmmaker a n d subject, greater than the sum of its parts. F. W. M u r n a u and Max Ophiils loom large in the history of the moving camera. Their use of it was, essentially, humanisticto create a lyrical celebration of their subjects and to involve their audiences more deeply. Stanley Kubrick, a contemporary filmmaker closely identified w i t h tracking shots, also uses camera m o v e m e n t to involve his a u d i e n c e , b u t in a colder, m o r e intellectual way. Michael Snow, an i m p o r t a n t abstract filmmaker a n d artist, explored in great depthin a series of three seminal filmsthe significatory potential of the moving camera.
de
D. Giulietta (1954).
Masina
in Fellini's
La
Strada
E.
Masina
in
Fellini's
Nights
of
Cabiria
of the
Spirits
(1957).
Figure 3-57. SHOT COMPOSITION. In practice, shot distance is m u c h more idiosyncratic than the terminology suggests. Both A and B, for example, are somewhere in between closeups and detail shots. Both give us half a woman's face, yet in A the face takes up nearly the whole frame while in B it is part of a three-shot. The aspect ratio of the frame is an important consideration, too. Both C and D are, more or less, mid-shots, yet C, in the scope ratio, has an entirely different effect from D, in the standard Academy ratio. C includes a lot more action than D; D is more like a closeup in effect. Composition is a major element, as well. Shots E and F both must be classified as long shotssame actress, same director. In each, Giulietta Masina takes up three-quarters of the height of the frame, more or less. Yet in E, Fellini has composed a shot in which the other design elementsthe road, the statues, the horizonwork to focus attention on Masina. Psychologically, the image of her is more impressive here. In F, composition (and her posture) works to de-emphasize her presence. (Allshots, LAvant-Scene. Frame enlargements.)
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Figure 3-58. A typical low-angle shot from Yasujiro Ozu's The End of Summer Films.)
angle doesn't seem so striking because the subjects are seated on the floor. {New
Wavelength (f 967) is an obsessive zoom, lasting forty-five minutes, which takes us from a n image of a rather large New York loft in its entirety to, in the end, a detail shot of a photograph hanging on the wall at the opposite end of the large r o o m . The p o t e n t i a l of t h e simplest p a n from left to right and back again is explored in <-> (i 968-69, also called Back and Forth). Snow set u p his camera in an empty classroom, t h e n p a n n e d continuously and quickly over a sector of about 75 a n d in periods ranging from fifteen cycles per m i n u t e to sixty cycles per minute. La Region Centrale (1970-71), Snow's masterwork lasting more than three hours, gives us a n obsessive "map" of the complete sphere of space that surrounds the camera o n all sides. Snow constructed a servomechanism control head for his camera, set it u p in a remote and rocky region of northern Quebec, and controlled its patterns of m o v e m e n t from behind a hill. The camera swoops, swirls, gyrates, twirls, tilts, zigzags, sweeps, arcs, and performs figure eights in a multitude of patterns while nothing is visible except the barren landscape, the horizon, and the sun. The effect is the t h o r o u g h liberation of the camera from both subject and p h o t o g r a p h e r . The global space t h a t s u r r o u n d s it b e c o m e s r a w material for Snow's complex patterns of movements. Movement is all. The liberated, abstract quality of Snow's images leads us directly to a consideration of the last of the five shot variables: point of view. Unlike the first four, this is more a matter of metaphysics t h a n of geometry. The point of La Region Centrale, for example, is t h a t is has n o point of view, or rather that its point of view is abstract and global. Most narrative films, however, do show some sort of subjec-
TRACK
ZOOM
Tl
Zl
205mm
IllfVlllllllllllllllllll
T2
-C=^;4
135mm
T3
Z3 85mm
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIU
T4
Z4 55mm
iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiK H B H I W M M
F
Z5
28mm
Figure 3-59. TRACKING VERSUS ZOOMING. These ten frames from parallel tracking and zoom shots illustrate the significant differences between the two techniques. In both series, the woman is walking towards the camera, covering a distance of approximately fifty yards between frame 1 and frame 5. The track was shot first, with a 55 m m lens. (Thus frames T4 and Z4 are identical.) The zoom was then shot to correspond to the track. The relationship between subject and background is dramatically different in the zoom. As the lens changes from telephoto (205 mm) to wide-angle (28 m m ) focal lengths, depth perception changes from suppressed to exaggerated, and perspective undergoes a slight moderation as well. In the tracking shot, the distance between subject and camera is constant from one frame to another, and the building is far enough in the background so as not to change greatly between frames. In the zoom, the distance between subject and camera is constantly changing, and the relative size of the background building is magnified in the telephoto shots and distanced, or minimized in the wideangle frame. Notice, too, that the angle of the shadow changes in the zoom. See Figure 2-10.
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Figure 3-60. THE MOVING CAMERA. On the set of Jean-Luc Godard's One Plus One (1968). The typical camera at right is a " p r o p " in the film. (The red and black flags are not standard equipment.) The camera platform is counterbalanced by weights out of the frame. In the m i d dle ground can be seen tracks laid for a camera that is barely visible at the extreme left. In the foreground, a third camera is mounted on a special truck.
tive point of view. This varies from the objective point of view of long shots, deep focus, a n d static camera, to the m o r e subjective approach of closeups, shallow focus, and moving camera. We've already noted that the moving camera has an ethical aspect to it. The question of point of view is at the heart of this ethical code, and critics and semioticians are only n o w beginning to investigate the p h e n o m e n o n specifically. Considering the structure of the artistic experience w e set u p in Chapter 1, the ethics of filmthe quality and shape of the relationships a m o n g filmmaker, subject, artwork, a n d audienceis elemental: all other ideas about film must stem from it and relate back to it. Point of view is easier to describe in prose narrative: novels are either narrated by someone in the storythe first-person narratoror by someone outside it the omniscient narrator. The first-person narrator m a y be either a major or a minor figure in the events; the omniscient narrator is sometimes developed as a separate character, sometimes characterless, except insofar as h e represents the character of the author. In its totality, film can fairly well duplicate these fictional models. Most films, like most novels, are told from an omniscient point of view. We see and hear whatever the author wants us to see and hear. But w h e n we come to
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Figure 3-62. Stanley Kubrick used a similar apparatus for many unusual shots in 2001: walked full circle, supposedly using Velcro slippers on the special path. (Frame
Space Odyssey. This particular shot was a setpiece to show off the device. The flight attendant enlargement.)
the first-person modewhich has proved so useful in prose fiction because of the resonances that can be developed between events and the character or persona of the narrator w h o perceives t h e m p r o b l e m s arise in film. It's easy e n o u g h to allow a film character to narrate the story. The difficulty is that w e see w h a t is happening as well as hear it. fn the novel, in effect, we only h e a r it. As we've
TRACKING
ft
** I * . 1f
Figure 3-63. Murnau's set for Sunrise (1927). The long tram ride has earned a place in film history. In this case, the tracking shot is purely verisimilitudinous: there is no other way to ride a tram than on tracks! (MOMA/FSA.) 11
ft
Figure 3-64. Max Ophuls was unusually fond of the moving camera. This is a still from a long lyrical, and very complex crane shot in La Ronde (1950). Anton W a l b r o o k a t left, Simone Signoret on the carousel. (MOMA/FSA.)
Figure 3-65. If the tracking shot was logical and realistic for Murnau, lyrical and romantic for Ophuls, it became, by 1968, a tool of intellectual analysis (as well as a grand joke) for JeanLuc Godard. This frame comes from the middle of the seven-minuteWeekend. camera long tracking shot of the traffic jam in Godard's
moves slowly and inexorably past a seemingly endless line of stopped autos. Drivers and passengers honk incessantly, argue with each other, fight, stop for an impromptu picnic, play ball from car to car (as here), or test their gear on trailermounted sailboats. The poplar trees that line the road at regular intervals divide this magnificent continuous shot into segments that function as separate framing devices. (Frame enlargement.)
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the subject of the film. This is a frame from about the middle of the forty-five minute zoom. By the end of the film, Snow's camera has moved into a closeup of the middle of the photograph tacked to the wall above the chair. The image? Waves, of course! (MOMA/FSA. enlargement.) Frame
noted earlier, Robert Montgomery's Lady in the Lake (1945) is the most famous example of rigid adherence to the first-person rule applied to cinemaand the most obvious demonstration of its faiiure. In Stage Fright (1950), Alfred Hitchcock discovered, to his chagrin, that the firstperson point of view in film is fraught with problems even w h e n it is used perfunctorily. In that film, Hitchcock had one of his characters narrate a flashback and lie. Audiences saw the lie o n screen, and w h e n they later found out that it was false they reacted angrily. They weren't able to accept the possibility that the image would lie, although they would have been quite willing to believe that the character had lied. The screen image is vested with an immutable aura of validity. By t h e early 1940s, Hollywood h a d evolved a very s m o o t h , efficient, and clearly understood idiom of point of view. The establishing shota long shot established place, often time, and sometimes other necessary information. Hitchcock was a master of the establishing shot. The opening pan and track of Rear Window (f 954), for example, tells us where we are, w h y we are there, w h o m we are with, w h a t is going on now, what has happened to get us there, w h o the other characters of t h e story are, and e v e n suggests possible w a y s t h e story might developall effortlessly and quickly and without a spoken word! Paragraphs of prose are condensed into seconds of film time.
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Figure 3-67. Michael Snow's ultimate pan/tilt/roll machine, with camera, set up to shoot La Region Centrale. Snow operated the camera from behind the rock at right so as not to appear in the picture. (MOMA/FSA.)
The Hollywood dialogue style is equally efficient: w e normally begin with a shot of both speakers (an establishing two-shot), then move to a montage of oneshots as each of the participants variously speaks a n d listens. Often these are "over-the-shoulder" shots, a n interesting use of the code, since it suggests the speaker's point of view but is also physically separate from it. The shot of the first character from (approximately) the second character's point of view is usually t e r m e d a reverse-angle shot. The r h y t h m s of this insistent and intimate shotcountershot technique are often intoxicating: w e surround the conversation. This is the ultimate omniscient style, since it allows us to see everything from the ideal perspective. More contemporary techniques, which tend to emphasize the separateness and individuality of the camera, m a y allow us to "see everything," but always from a separate, distinct point of view. Antonioni's camera, for instance, often holds o n a scene that a character has either not yet entered or already left. The effect is to emphasize e n v i r o n m e n t over character and action, context over content. We might call this the "third-person" point of view: the camera often seems to take o n a personality of its own, separate from those of the characters. In either omniscient stylethe Hollywood or the modernthe point-of-view shot (abbreviated "POV") has its uses. And soundtrack narration is often able to strengthen the sense of the character's perspective of events. Yet the psychologically insistent, ever-present image attenuates this perspective, fn print w e need not always be "looking" at a scene: writers don't always describe or narrate, they often explain or theorize. In film, however, because of the presence of the image,
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Figure 3-68. Grace Kelly and James Stewart in Hitchcock's Rear Window (1954). Stewart, a photographer, is immobilized in his apartment on Tenth Street in Greenwich Village. The "CinemaScope" picture windows of the building across the courtyard intrigue h i m . (Look closely!) He becomes deeply involved in the stories they tell. A metaphor for filmmaking? Certainly a study in "point of view." {MOMA/FSA.)
there is always the element of descriptioneven w h e n the soundtrack is used concurrently for explanation, theorizing, or discussion. This is one of the most significant differences between prose narrative and film narrative. Clearly, the only way to circumvent this insistent descriptive nature of the film image is to eliminate it entirely, in which case the soundtrack can duplicate the abstract, analytical potential of written language. Jean-Luc Godard experimented with just this technique in his highly theoretical films of the late sixties. Sometimes the screen is simply black, while we listen to the words on the soundtrack.
Sound
While the fact of the image is a disadvantage of a kind in terms of point of view in film narrative, the fact of soundits ever-presenceis a distinct advantage. Christian Metz identifies five channels of information in film: (1) the visual image; (2) print and other graphics; (3) speech; (4) music; and (5) noise (sound effects). Interestingly, the majority of these channels are auditory rather than visual. Examining these channels with regard to the m a n n e r in which they communicate, w e discover that only two of t h e m are continuousthe first and the fifth. The other three are intermittentthey are switched on and offand it is easy to conceive of a film without either print, speech, or music.
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Figure 3 - 6 9 . Gregory Peck drowns his interlocutor in a glass of m i l k a n d we share the viewpoint and the experiencein this memorable pov shot from Hitchcock's Spellbound. enlargements.) (Frame
The t w o continuous channels themselves communicate in distinctly separate ways. We "read" images by directing our attention; we do not read sound, at least not in the same conscious way. Sound is not only omnipresent but also omnidirectional. Because it is so pervasive, we tend to discount it. Images can be manipulated in m a n y different ways, and the manipulation is relatively obvious; with sound, even the limited manipulation that does occur is vague and tends to be ignored. ft is the pervasiveness of sound that is its most attractive quality, ft acts to realize both space and time. It is essential to the creation of a locale; the "room tone," based on the reverberation time, harmonics, and so forth of a particular location, is its signature. A still image comes alive w h e n a soundtrack is added that can create a sense of the passage of time. In a utilitarian sense, sound shows its value by creating a ground base of continuity to support the images, which usually receive more conscious attention. Speech and music naturally receive attention because they have specific meaning. But the "noise" of the soundtrack"sound effects" is paramount. This is where the real construction of the sound environment takes place. But "noise" and "effects" are poor labels indeed for a worthy art. Possibly w e could term this aspect of the soundtrack "environmental sound." The influence of environmental sound has been feltand noticedin contemporary music, especially in that m o v e m e n t k n o w n as "musique concrete." Even recorded speech has been affected by this n e w ability. In the great days of radio, "sound effects" were limited to those that could be produced physically. The advent of synthesizers, multitrack recording, and n o w computer-manipulated digitized sound has made it possible for the sound effects technicians, or "Foley artists," as they are n o w called, to recreate a n infinite range of b o t h n a t u r a l a n d entirely n e w artificial sounds. M u c h of the best m o d e r n sound drama (which has appeared mainly o n records, and public interest radio stations) has recognized t h e extraordinary
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Figure 3-70. The title frame from Orson Welles's tour de force establishing track at the beginning of Touch of Evil (1958). In a few minutes, we know all that we need to know. (Frame enlargement.)
opposed to or in counterpoint with the image. It makes n o difference whether we are dealing with speech, music, or environmental sound: all three are at times variously parallel or contrapuntal, actual or commentative, synchronous or asynchronous. The differentiation b e t w e e n parallel and contrapuntal s o u n d is perhaps the controlling factor. This conception of the soundtrack as working logically either with or against the image provides the basic esthetic dialectic of sound. The Hollywood sound style is strongly parallel. The programmatic music of thirties movies nudged, underlined, emphasized, characterized, and qualified even the simplest scenes so that the dullest images as well as the most striking were thoroughly pervaded by the emotions designed by the composers of the nearly continuous music track. Erich Wolfgang Korngold and Max Steiner were the two best-known composers of these emotionally dominating scores. In the experimental 1960s and 1970s, contrapuntal sound gave an ironic edge to the style of film music. Often the soundtrack was seen as equal, but different from, the image. Marguerite Duras, for example, experimented with commentative soundtracks completely separate from the image, as in India Song (1975). In the 1980s, Hollywood returned to programmatic music. J o h n Williams, composer of the soundtracks for m a n y of the blockbusters of the late 1970s and 1980s from
Montage
In the U.S., the word for the work of putting together the shots of a film is "cutting" or "editing," while in Europe the term is "montage." The American words suggest a trirmning process, in which u n w a n t e d material is eliminated. Michelangelo once described sculpture similarly as paring away u n n e e d e d stone to discover the natural shape of the sculpture in a block of marble. One edits or cuts raw material down. "Montage," however, suggests a building action, working u p from the raw material. Indeed, the classic style of Hollywood editing of the thirties and forties, revived in part in the eightieswhat the French call decoupage classiquewas in fact marked by its smoothness, fluidity, and leanness. And European montage, ever since the German Expressionists and Eisenstein in the twenties, has been characterized by a process of synthesis: a film is seen as being constructed rather t h a n edited. The two terms for the action express the two basic attitudes toward it. Whereas mise-en-scene is marked by a fusion of complexities, montage is surprisingly simple, at least o n the physical level. There are only two ways to put two pieces of film together: one can overlap t h e m (double exposure, dissolves, multiple images), or one can put t h e m end to end. For images, the second alternative dominates almost exclusively, while sounds lend themselves m u c h more readily to the first, so m u c h so that this activity has its o w n n a m e : mixing. In general parlance, "montage" is used in three different ways. While maintaining its basic meaning, it also has the more specific usages of: a dialectical process that creates a third meaning out of the original two meanings of the adjacent shots; and a process in which a n u m b e r of short shots are w o v e n together to communicate a great deal of information in a short time.
This last is simply a special case of general montage; the dialectical process is inherent in any montage, conscious or not.
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through a window, Antonioni set u p this complex apparatussort of a combination of a Steadicam, Skycam, and overhead track. The operator guided the camera, suspended from a crane, up to the window grill, which grips then opened while attaching the camera to the crane so that it could move out into the courtyard.
Decoupage classique, the Hollywood style of construction, gradually developed a broad range of rules and regulations: for example, the practice of beginning always with an establishing shot, then narrowing down from the generalization; or, the strict rule of t h u m b for editing dialogue scenes with master shots and reverse angles. All the editing practices of the Hollywood grammar were designed to permit seamless transitions from shot to shot and to concentrate attention on the action at h a n d . W h a t helped to maintain immediacy a n d t h e flow of the action was good; what did not was bad. In fact, any kind of m o n t a g e is in the end defined according to the action it photographs. Still pictures can be put together solely with regard to the rhythm of the succeeding shots. Diachronic shots, inherently active, demand that the movements within the shot be considered in the editing. The j u m p cut, where the natural movement is interrupted, provides an interesting example of the contrasting ways in which decoupage classique and contemporary editing treat a problem. In Hollywood cinema, "invisible cutting" was the aim, and the j u m p cut was used as a device to compress dead time. A m a n enters a large room at one end, for instance, and must walk to a desk at the other end. The j u m p cut can maintain tempo by eliminating most of the action of traversing the long room, but it must do so unobtrusively. The laws of Hollywood grammar insist that the excess dead time be smoothed over either by cutting away to another element of the scene (the desk itself, s o m e o n e else in the room) or by changing camera angle sufficiently so that the second shot is clearly from a different camera placement. Simply snipping out the u n w a n t e d footage from a single shot from a single angle is not permitted. The effect, according to Hollywood rules, would be disconcerting.
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Syntax
219
Figure
3-72.
(1992),
begins
with a reel-long tracking shot which is the equal of Murnau's, Welles's, or Godard's: establishing the location, setting up the action, introducing the characters, passing by small incidental dramas, tossing off inside jokes, peering in windows, a n d , postmodernly talking about its antecedents at the same time that it pays homage to t h e m , even while Altman's own shot surpasses those of his predecessors, distanced with insouciant wit, as if to say, "long tracking shots, like long sentences, separate the players from the rest." {Frame enlargement.)
montage allows a sequence to be narrated without particular regard for chronology: a n action can be repeated, shots can be edited out of order. Each of these extensions of the montage codes looks toward the creation of something other than simple chronology in the montage itself, a factor very little emphasized in classic decoupage continuity cutting. Possibly the most c o m m o n dialectic device is the match cut, which links two disparate scenes by the repetition of an action or a form, or the duplication of m i s e - e n - s c e n e . Stanley Kubrick's m a t c h cut in 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), between a prehistoric bone whirling in the air and a twenty-first-century space station revolving in space, is possibly the most ambitious m a t c h cut in history, since it attempts to unite prehistory with the anthropological future at the same time as it creates a special meaning within the cut itself by emphasizing the functions of both bone and space station as tools, extensions of h u m a n capabilities. The codes of montage m a y not be as obvious as the codes of mise-en-scene, but that doesn't mean that they are necessarily less complex. Few theorists have gone further t h a n differentiating a m o n g parallel montage, continuity montage, accelerated montage, flashbacks, and involuted montage. In the 1920s, both V. I. Pudovkin a n d Sergei Eisenstein extended the theory of m o n t a g e beyond these
220
Figure 3-73.
enlargements.)
essentially practical concerns. Pudovkin identified five basic types of montage: contrast, parallelism, symbolism, simultaneity, and leitmotif. He then developed a theory of the interaction b e t w e e n shots variously called "relational editing" or "linkage." Eisenstein, o n the other hand, saw the relationship between shots as a collision rather t h a n a linkage, and further refined the theory to deal with the relationships b e t w e e n elements of individual shots as well as the whole shots themselves. This h e called the "montage of attractions." Both theorists are discussed in greater detail in Chapter 5. In the late sixties, Christian Metz attempted to synthesize all these various theories of montage. He constructed a chart in which he tried to indicate h o w eight types of montage were connected logically. There are a n u m b e r of problems with Metz's categories, yet the system does have an elegance all its o w n and it does describe most of the major patterns of montage. More important, despite its idiosyncrasies and occasional confusions, it remains the only recent attempt to comprehend the complex system of montage. Note that Metz is interested in narrative elementssyntagmasthat can exist within shots as well as between them, an important refinement since, as we have already indicated, the effects of m a n y types of m o n t a g e can be accomplished within a shot without actually cutting. If the camera pans, for example, from one scene to another, those two scenes exist in relationship to each other just as they would if they were cut together. Metz's grand design m a y seem forbidding at first glance, but it reveals a real and useful logic w h e n studied. He begins by limiting himself to autonomous seg-
Syntax merits of film. These must be either autonomous shotswhich are entirely independent of w h a t comes before and after themor what he calls "syntagmas" units that have meaningful relationships with each other. (We might call these "scenes" or "sequences," but Metz reserves those terms for individual types of syntagma.) At each stage of this binary system, a further differentiation is made: the first bracket differentiates b e t w e e n a u t o n o m o u s shots a n d related shots, clearly the primary factor in categorizing types of montage. Either a shot is related to its surrounding shots, or it is not. The second bracket differentiates between syntagmas that operate chronologically and those that do not. In other words, editing either tells a story (or develops an idea) in chronological sequence, or it does not. Now, on the third level, the differentiations branch out. Metz identifies two separate types of achronological syntagmas, the parallel and the bracket. Then he differentiates between two types of chronological syntagmas: either a syntagma describes or it narrates. If it narrates, it can do so either linearly or nonlinearly. If it does so linearly, it is either a scene or a sequence. And finally, if it is a sequence, it is either episodic or ordinary. The end result is a system of eight types of montage, or eight syntagmas. The a u t o n o m o u s shot (1) is also k n o w n as the sequence shot (although Metz also places certain kinds of insertsshort, isolated fragmentshere). The parallel syntagma (2) has been discussed above as the well-known p h e n o m e n o n of parallel editing. The bracket syntagma (3), however, is Metz's o w n discoveryor invention. He defines it as "a series of very brief scenes representing occurrences that the film gives as typical examples of a same order or reality, without in any way chronologically locating them in relation to each other" [Metz, p. 126]. This is rather like a system of allusions. A good example might be the collection of images with which Godard began A Married Woman (1964). They all alluded to modern attitudes toward sex. Indeed, Godard in m a n y of his films seemed to be particularly fond of the bracket syntagma, since it allows film to act something like the literary essay. The descriptive syntagma (4) merely describes. The relation b e t w e e n its elements is spatial rather than temporal. Almost any establishing sequence (such as the o n e already discussed in Rear Window) is a good example of the descriptive syntagma. The alternate syntagma (5) is very m u c h like the parallel syntagma except that the parallel syntagma offers two separate scenes or sequences that do not have a narrative connection, while the alternate syntagma offers parallel or alternating elements that do. The effect here is of simultaneity, as in chase scenes in which the montage alternates between shots of pursuer and pursued. If events do not h a p p e n simultaneously, they happen one after the other, in linear sequence, and this brings us to Metz's remaining three categories of m o n tage: the scene (6) and two types of sequenceepisodic (7) and ordinary (8). There has always been a great deal of confusion in the vocabulary of film criticism
221
222
Autonomous segments 1. Autonomous shot Syntagmas Achronological syntagmas 2. Parallel syntagma 3. Bracket syntagma Chronological syntagmas 4. Descriptive syntagma Narrative syntagmas 5. Alternate (narrative) syntagme Linear narrative syntagmas
7. Episodic sequence
8. Ordinary sequence
Diagram J. METZ'S SYNTAGMATIC CATEGORIES.
between the concepts of scene and sequence, and Metz's elaborate system is valuable for the precise definitions he offers. Metz takes his definition of scene from theatrical parlance. In the scene, the succession of eventsthe linear narrative is continuous. In the sequence, it is broken up. It is still linear, it is still narrative, it is still chronological, it is still related to other elements, but it is not continuous.
Syntax
223
mm
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D Figure 3-74. This sequence of four shots is a double dissolve from Alfred Hitchcock's North by Northwest (1959). At first it seems no more than a highly economical transition from the previous scene at the U N building, in which Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant) has been mistaken for a murderer, to a conference at the CIA in Washington, at w h i c h this turn of events is discussed. Hitchcock segues from his striking overhead shot of the antlike Thornhill r u n n i n g away from the slab of the U N Secretariat (barely visible in A) to the building nameplate in B. Since Hitchcock has had the foresight to use a mirrored surface for the sign, it can reflect the Capitol building, thus identifying the city as well as " c o m p a n y " and neatly saving an extra shot. He then dissolves to the newspaper headline in D, which tells us that (1) time has passed, (2) Thornhill has been identified, and (3) he has so far eluded capture. The newspaper is being held by the head of the intelligence agency. Hitchcock pulls back from the paper and goes on with the conference scene. At the same time, however, there is some rich metaphorical information in this elegant little dissolve, for, if we analyze these still images, we can see that the CIA imposes itself on the U N , that the Capitol is a reflection of the CIA (or that the intelligence agency has superimposed itself over the seat of government), and finally, that the CIA gives birth to the newspaper headlines that include, in addition to the one conveying the necessary information: "National Fears Tieup" and "Nixon Promises West Will Remain in Berlin." (Frame enlargements.)
Metz's last differentiation, between the episodic sequence and the ordinary sequence, is a bit arbitrary, fn the episodic sequence the discontinuity is organized; in the ordinary sequence it is not. A good example, then, of the episodic sequence is the one in Citizen Kane in which Orson Welles portrays the progressive deterioration of Kane's marriage by a set of successive episodes at the breakfast table. In
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We h a v e only to describe the p u n c t u a t i o n of cinema to complete this quick survey of the syntax of mise-en-scene and montage. Because punctuation devices stand out and are simply defined, they often take pride of place in discussions of cinematic language. They are useful, no doubt, as are, well, commas, for example, in written language. The simplest t y p e of p u n c t u a t i o n is t h e u n m a r k e d cut. O n e i m a g e ends, another begins. The "fade" calls attention to the ending or the beginning, as does the "iris" (a favorite of early filmmakers that has n o w fallen into disuse). The "wipe," in which one image removes another in a dizzying variety of ways (flips, twirls, pushovers, spirals, clock hands), was a favorite in the thirties a n d forties. Optical houses offered catalogues of scores of patterns for wipes. Now it is used in film only for nostalgic effect, although it has found n e w life in television, where electronic special-effects generators permit n e w variations o n the theme, sometimes shifting the preceding image so it looks like a page of a book is being turned, in three dimensions. "Intertitles" w e r e a n important m a r k of punctuation in the silent cinema and are still used o n occasion today. The "freeze frame" has become popular since it was used to such effect by Francois Truffaut in The 400 Blows (1959). (Truffaut, by the way, was the C. S. Lewis of film punctuation.) Filmmakers in the 1960s and 1970s modernized some of the old forms, fading to colors instead of black (fngmar Bergman) or cutting to blank, colored frames (Godard). Focusing in and out (the effect of going slowly in focus at the beginning of the shot, or out of focus at the end) paralleled fading, and Antonioni was fond of beginning a shot on a n out-offocus background before a n in-focus subject moved into the frame.
Syntax
225
Figure 3-75. Truffaut's landmark freeze frame brings The 400 Blows to an abrupt and quizzical stop. (MOMA/FSA.)
All these various marks are periods. End points. A fade out/fade in m a y suggest a relationship, but it is not a direct link. The dissolve, however, which superimposes fade out and fade in, does connect. If there is a comma in film amongst this catalogue of periods, it is the dissolve. Interestingly, the dissolve serves a multitude of purposes: it is commonly employed to segue or lead into a flashback; it is also used in continuity montage with the j u m p cut, while at the same time it can represent the passage of long periods of time, especially w h e n it is sequential. It is the one m a r k of punctuation in cinema that mixes images at the same time that it conjoins them.
Movies/Film/ Cinema
French theorists are fond of making the differentiation between "film" and "cinema." The "filmic" is that aspect of the art that concerns its relationship with the world a r o u n d it; the "cinematic" deals strictly with the esthetics and internal structure of the art. In English, w e have a third word for "film" and "cinema" "movies"which provides a convenient label for the third facet of the p h e n o m e non: its function as a n economic commodity. These three aspects are closely interrelated, of course: one person's "movie" is another's "film." But in general w e use these three names for the art in a way that closely parallels this differentiation: "movies," like popcorn, are to be consumed; "cinema" (at least in American parlance) is high art, redolent of esthetics; "film" is the most general term with the fewest connotations. This history of movies/film/cinema is rich and complex, although it spans only a century. Film history is a m a t t e r of decades a n d half-decades. Partly this is a result of the explosive nature of the p h e n o m e n o n of filmas a m e d i u m of communication it was immediately apprehensible to large numbers of people; partly it is a matter of the geometric progression of technology in the twentieth century coupled with economic cycles, which demanded that film develop or die. At the same time that w e speak of three approachesmovies, film, a n d cine m a w e should remember that within each approach there is a corresponding s p e c t r u m of function, ranging from d o c u m e n t a r y a n d nonfiction o n t h e left, t h r o u g h t h e massive commercial narrative c i n e m a t h a t occupies t h e middle ground, o n to avant-garde and "art" film o n the right. The major part of this his-
Movies/Film/Cinema
torical discussion will dwell o n the middle ground, since it is here that the politics and economics of film have had their most significant effect. Interesting parallels exist between the history of the art form of the novel during the course of the past three h u n d r e d years and the development of film during the past one h u n d r e d years. Both are, above all, popular arts that depend on large numbers of consumers to function economically. Each began with roots in journalismthat is, as a m e d i u m of record. Each developed t h r o u g h a n early stage marked by invention and freshness, and soon reached a commanding position in which it dominated other arts. Each evolved a complex system of genres that served a wide range of audiences. Finally, each entered into a later period of consolidation, identified by a stronger concern for elite, esthetic values over those of popular entertainment, as it was challenged by a n e w m e d i u m (film for the novel, television for film). Just as novels have fed films, providing a rich lode of material, so n o w films feed television. Indeed, it m a y n o longer be possible to m a k e explicit differentiations a m o n g these t h r e e forms of narrative entertainment. Commercially, t h e novel, movies, and television are more closely intertwined t h a n ever before. The development of film differed, however, in two important respects from the precedent of the novel. Before prose narrative could reach a wide popular audience, it was necessary for a culture of literacy to develop. Film had n o such prerequisite. On t h e other h a n d , film is highly technological. Although the novel depends o n the technology of printing, that technology is comparatively simple, and the development of t h e form of t h e novel has b e e n affected only in m i n o r ways by technological developments. We can speak of the history of the novel as being audience-intensivethat is, it is closely linked with the development of its audience's capabilitieswhile the history of film is technology-intensiveit does not depend o n audience capability so m u c h as technical capability. All histories of film mark the obvious division between silent and sound periods. While any structure more complex than this simple bifurcation is arbitrary, it is useful to attempt greater precision. Each of the eight periods outlined below has its o w n c o h e r e n c e . A l t h o u g h w e t e n d n a t u r a l l y to identify these periods by esthetic differences ("cinema"), it is interesting to n o t e t h a t they are defined rather by economic developments ("movies"). The period of film's prehistory includes the development of all the precursors of the Cinematographe as well as the evolution of certain aspects of the other arts that have a significant effect w h e n applied to film (the qualities of Victorian melodrama, for example, or the values of the photographic portrait). The years between 1896 and 1912 saw cinema evolve from a sideshow gimmick into a full-fledged economic art. The end of this period is marked by the advent of the feature-length film.
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Indeed, w e n o w n e e d a n e w t e r m to indicate the generalized production of audiovisual communications and entertainment. Whether this u n n a m e d but pervasive form is produced on filmstock or magnetic tape or disc, analogically or digitally; w h e t h e r it is distributed t h r o u g h theaters, via broadcast, "narrowcast," cable, satellite, disc, or tapeour core experience of it amounts to the same thing. Now, w h e n w e speak about movies/film/cinema w e usually m e a n to infer all of these various media forms. Contemporary film can be seen as a synthesis of the forces that have each at one time or another seemed to dominate the cinematic formula. It is most important to an understanding of film history, however, to see h o w each of these social, political, economic, cultural, psychological, and esthetic factors involves the others in a dynamic relationship. Film history is best comprehended as the product of a
Movies/Film/Cinema wide range of contradictions. This can be seen o n every level, from the most specific to the most general. An actor's performance, for example, is the result of the conflict b e t w e e n the role and the actor's o w n persona. At times the personality dominates, at times the character, but in either case the sum is a third thing, a logical conclusionperformancewhich t h e n becomes one of the elements involved in the larger unit, the film. A particular film, likewise, is the product of a n u m b e r of oppositions: director versus screenwriter, t h e ideal of t h e script versus the practical realities of shooting, shadow versus light, sound versus image, character versus plot, and so on. Each film t h e n b e c o m e s a n e l e m e n t in t h e larger systems of oppositions: genre contrasts with the individuality of scripts; studio styles are in logical opposition to personal directorial styles; thematic tendencies contrast with the concrete physical reality of the m e d i u m . Finally, each of these larger elements is involved in o n e or m o r e contradictions that together give t h e general history of film its overall shape and substance. W h a t should be remembered is that in very few cases are p h e n o m e n a in film history correctly described in terms of simple cause and effect. For the purposes of discussion, the brief survey of film history that follows has been organized according to the three principal forces involved: economics, politics (including psychology a n d sociology), a n d esthetics. But n o n e of these factors is clearly a n d ultimately dominant. If film is essentially a n economic product, nevertheless there h a v e b e e n n u m e r o u s filmmakers w h o h a v e w o r k e d w i t h o u t a n y conceivable regard to the realities of the marketplace and have managed to survive. If certain types of film are best seen in terms of their political and social effects, it should be remembered that the causes of these effects m a y not be political at all, but rather highly personal and esthetic. In short, our aim should not be to decide, simplistically, "what caused what" in t h e history of film, b u t rather to gain a n u n d e r s t a n d i n g of " w h a t is related to what." For every interesting p h e n o m e n o n in film history, there are several plausible explanations. It's not so important which of these explanations is true, as it is to see h o w they relate to each other and to the world around them. Like any art, only more so because of its all-encompassing and popular nature, film reflects changes in the social contract. That is w h y it is useful to look first at the economic and technological foundations of the m e d i u m (what economists and historians call its "infrastructure"), t h e n to discuss some of the major political, social, a n d psychological implications of the art (its "structure"), a n d finally to conclude with a survey of the history of film esthetics (its "superstructure"). Any one of these three aspects of film history could easily serve as the organizing principle for a hefty volume. W h a t follows is only the barest outline of some of the major issues involved. Moreover, film has not developed independently of the other arts and media. Its history should be seen in context with the growth of
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Movies": Economics
More so t h a n most of the other technological innovations that form the panoply of m o d e r n electric and electronic modes of communication, film was a c o m m u n a l invention. Unlike the telephone, telegraph, or even wireless, film depended o n a whole series of small inventions, each attributable to a different inventor. Even single concepts had multiple authors. In t h e U.S., Thomas Edison is usually given major credit for inventing t h e movies, and indeed, m u c h of the important work of development was performed in his New Jersey laboratories. But considering Edison's demonstrated talents and obvious understanding of the problems involved in producing a workable camera/projector system, w h a t is surprising is that h e personally didn't achieve more. A n Englishman, William K e n n e d y Laurie Dickson, was the chief experimenter working on the project for Edison. He demonstrated a crude system of projection as early as 1889, b u t Edison seems to have conceived of movies as m o r e a personal t h a n a c o m m u n a l experience. He was more interested in producing a private viewing system t h a n one to project a n image for the entertainment of large groups. He called his individual viewer the "Kinetoscope." It was in production in t h e early 1 8 9 0 s o n e of t h e first short p r o g r a m s w a s t h e f a m o u s Fred Ott's Sneezeand it soon became a c o m m o n fixture of side shows and carnivals. The Kinetoscope inspired a n u m b e r of businessmen to apply their talents to the England, the F r e n c h m a n Louis Augustin Friese-Greene b o t h developed workable the late 1880s, although nothing came of European and American inventors and solution of the remaining problems. In Le Prince a n d the Englishman William portable camera/projection systems in them.
The key to the m a i n problem of projection for a large audience was the intermittent m o t i o n mechanism. Louis a n d Auguste Lumiere in France and Thomas Armat in America came u p with this device in 1895. Armat sold out to Edison. The Lumieres w e n t into production and, on December 28, 1895, in the basement of the Grand Cafe, n u m b e r 14 Boulevard des Capucines, Paris, showed the first projected films to a paying audience. During the n e x t year, t h e Lumiere Cinematographe was demonstrated in most major European cities. Edison's first formal public performance of large-screen communal cinema took place o n April 23, 1896, at Koster and Bial's Music Hall, 34th Street and Sixth Avenue, N e w York. The Lumieres' decision to concentrate o n the projection of film for large groups h a d a far-reaching effect. If the development of the technology h a d progressed
'Movies": Economics along t h e lines Edison h a d laid d o w n , the result w o u l d h a v e b e e n a m e d i u m m u c h m o r e like television, experienced privately, eventually in the h o m e . This quite different m o d e of distribution a n d exhibition w o u l d u n d o u b t e d l y h a v e affected the types of films produced. As it happened, Edison's Kinetoscope rather quickly yielded to the Lumieres' Cinematographe (and Edison's very similar Kinetograph projector) and the future of public, communal cinema was assured for at least the next 80 years. It is only recently, with the development of videocassettes a n d discs a n d h o m e players, that the private, individualized Kinetoscope m o d e has b e e n revived. During t h e n e x t year or two, a n u m b e r of competitors joined the field. The Italian Filoteo Alberini h a d taken out several significant patents before 1896; in Germany, M a x a n d Emil Skladanowsky developed their Bioskop; in England, Robert W. Paul was projecting films (with his version of the Edison machine) w i t h i n w e e k s after the Lumieres' premiere. In 1896 a n d 1897, t h e use of the Cinematographe, Edison's Kinetograph, and similar machines spread widely. It soon b e c a m e evident t h a t t h e r e was considerable potential profit in t h e invention. In the U.S., Dickson left Edison's employ to form (with partners) the American Mutoscope and Biograph Company, which not only produced a better peepshow machine (the Mutoscope) t h a n Edison's Kinetoscope but a better projector as well. The Biograph Company was soon to dominate American film. J. Stuart Blackton, of English origins like Dickson, formed the Vitagraph Company. Both the Biograph and the Vitagraph offices were located near New York's theatrical neighborhoods (Biograph o n East 14th Street near Fifth Avenue, Vitagraph in the Chelsea district), which gave t h e m easy access to stage actorswho would surreptitiously spend a n afternoon filming before reporting to work in the theater. In France, Georges Melies, a stage magician, saw the illusionary p o w e r of the m e d i u m and entered production, while Charles Pathe began a ruthless campaign to dominate the fledgling industry. Pathe was fairly successful. Unlike his competitors, Pathe was able to find large a m o u n t s of capital backing, which h e used to establish a n e a r monopoly, vertically integrated. He controlled the French film industry from the manufacture of e q u i p m e n t to the production of films (in his large studio at Vincennes) to distribution a n d exhibition, a n d his influence was widely felt in other countries as well, during the early years of this century. As a result, French film dominated world screens in the years prior to the First World War. Before 1914, Pathe c o m m o n l y distributed twice as m u c h film in the U.S. alone as did the whole American industry. For other, more esthetic reasons, Italian influence in those years was also widespread. By 1905 the concept of the film theater was established. In 1897 the Lumieres h a d opened the first establishment devoted strictly to the showing of movies. In 1902 T h o m a s L. Tally's Electric Theatre (prophetically located in Los Angeles) became the first American film theater. Within a few years, the concept spread
233
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centered in New York's Greenwich Village neighborhood, long a literary and artistic center. W. K. L. Dickson first visited Thomas Edison in his office at his d y n a m o at Fifth Avenue and Thirteenth Street (1). The American Mutoscope and Biograph Co. set up shop in an office building at 841 Broadway (2), then moved to a brownstone on Fourteenth Street east of Fifth Avenue (3). Griffith often shot on West Twelfth Street (4). The old St. Denis Hotel (5), where Alexander Graham Bell demonstrated his first working telephone system in 1877, has provided office space for numerous filmmakers. New Line Cinema's first office was located above a bar and grill at University Place and Thirteenth Street (6). Edison's first public performance took place a few blocks north on Sixth Avenue (7). Such filmmakers as Mel Brooks, Paul Mazursky, Brian DePalma, Susan Sarandon, and Tim Robbins have chosen to live in the area at one time or another (although most eventually moved to L.A.) Even today, these streets are regularly filled with filmmakers shooting on location, and the old loft buildings on Broadway have become a mecca for the new multimedia companies.
rapidly. By 1908 there were m o r e t h a n five thousand "Nickelodeons" across the c o u n t r y ("nickel" because t h a t was t h e price of admission; " o d e o n " from the Greek for a small building used for the presentation of musical and dramatic programs). The last link in the chainmanufacture, production, distribution, exhibitionwas complete. No company or individual h a d complete control over the system, however. Thomas Edison set out to rectify that oversight. In 1897 h e h a d begun a long series of suits against interlopers. Armat, w h o felt h e had been double-crossed by Edison, started his o w n legal proceedings. Biograph, w h o h a d some important patents of their own, prepared countersuits. In all, more t h a n five h u n d r e d legal actions w e r e instituted during the first decade of the film industry. These were temporarily resolved with the foundation in January 1909 of the Motion Picture Patents Company, a monopoly consortium of the nine major producersEdison, Biograph, Vitagraph, Essanay, Selig, Lubin, Kalem, Melies, and Pathewith the distributor George Kleine. All patents were pooled, Edison received royalties o n all films produced, and George Eastman agreed to supply his filmstock only to members of the company.
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(Pathe h a d h a d the foresight to monopolize Eastman's filmstock in France years earlier.) No distributors w h o handled firms of other companies were permitted to distribute Patent Company films. Most of the distributors w e r e soon merged in their o w n trust, the General Film Company. But several distributors understandably rebelled against these blanket m o n o p o l y agreements. The solution was to produce their o w n films, and several renegade production companies sprang up, the most important being Carl Laemmle's Independent Motion Picture Company ("Imp"), which would later become Universal Studios. Antitrust suits replaced patent suits, and the American film industry was off o n a n o t h e r ten-year r o u n d of legal battles. Eventually the M o t i o n Picture Patents Company was ruled a n illegal trust, but by that time most of the original members of the company had gone out of business. None of t h e m survived the twenties. By i 9 1 2 the Patent Company and the General Film Company controlled more t h a n half of the t e n t h o u s a n d exhibition outletsNickelodeonsin the country, but this still left the independents room to maneuver. Their greatest w e a p o n against the trust was not the legal fight b u t rather a n innovation in film form. The trust and the Nickelodeons were geared to one- and
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Figure 4 - 3 . Biograph's brownstone headquarters on Fourteenth Street between Fifth Avenue and Union Square, circa 1905. The building is long gone, but in the m i d - 1 9 7 0 s , Lillian Gish a n d Blanche Sweet assisted in the dedication of a plaque on the site. (MOMA/FSA.)
Hi.
two-reel films (a reel was t h e n approximately ten minutes in length). The indep e n d e n t s , b o r r o w i n g a concept p i o n e e r e d by Italian a n d F r e n c h filmmakers, introduced t h e longer, "feature" film. Within a few years, the Patent Company a n d its short films were obsolete. Ironically, D. W. Griffith, the filmmaker w h o had done most to ensure the success of Biograph, the most important of the trust components, was also the first American, after his break with Biograph, to explore the potential of the feature film form.* The u n p r e c e d e n t e d financial success of The Birth of a Nation ( 1 9 1 5 ) ensured the future of the n e w form. It also set the pattern for the "blockbuster," t h e film project in which h u g e sums of m o n e y are invested in epic productions w i t h t h e h o p e of even h u g e r returns. The Birth of a Nation, costing a n unprecedented and, m a n y believed, thoroughly foolhardy $ 1 1 0 , 0 0 0 , eventually returned * Europeans had already produced epic features before this: Quo Vadis? (1912) and Cabiria (1914) in Italy, Germinal (1913) and L'Enfant de Paris (1914) in France. Griffith was only following their leadalbeit more lucratively.
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Figure 4-5. Founding moguls Adolph Zukor, Carl Laemmle, and Samuel Goldwyn.
(MOMA/FSA.)
which found a niche as the second halves of double bills. By the mid-fifties, the market for such "Programmers" h a d all but disappeared a n d the companies that supplied t h e m w e n t out of business. They were in a sense replaced by such indep e n d e n t low-budget producers as American International Pictures in the 1950s, Roger Corman's New World in the 1960s, and New Line in the 1980s, all specializing in "exploitation" films mainly directed to the youth market. One poverty r o w company that survived to become a "major" was Columbia Pictures, w h i c h evolved in 1924 out of a n earlier c o m p a n y founded b y Harry Cohn, a vaudeville performer a n d song-plugger; his brother Jack; a n d a friend, Joe Brandt. Like United Artists, one of the "little two" for m a n y years, Columbia moved to the ranks of the majors in the late forties. By the late fifties it was one of the more significant producers of international features. During t h e thirties a n d forties RKO, w h i c h h a d b e e n formed by a series of mergers to provide a n outlet for the RCA sound system that was in competition with Western Electric for the market in the n e w technology, was also considered one of the "Big Five." Disney, Selznick, and Goldwyn all released through RKO at its peak. In 1948 Howard Hughes bought most of the stock. In 1953 RKO ceased production and its studios were sold to Desilu for television production. A p o w e r h o u s e since t h e 1940s because of its d o m i n a t i o n of the a n i m a t i o n niche, Disney created its o w n distribution arm, B u e n a Vista, in the 1950s, t h e n moved to center stage in the 1980s with a n ambitious and successful program of "live-action" features. Michael Eisner and Jeffrey Katzenberg joined the studio in 1984 with a mandate to produce and distribute mainstream features. The Touchstone Pictures b r a n d n a m e was established in 1984 to position the c o m p a n y in the adult marketplace. It was immediately successful and was joined by the Hollyw o o d Pictures brand in 1989. Throughout the 1980s and into the 1990s, the Disney brands ranked among the most successful in Hollywood.
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Figure 4 - 6 . EARLY HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS. A. Independent Studios (1925). B. The famous Paramount main gate (1939). C. An early mixed media c o m p a n y (1913). D. Metro bungalow (1918). E. "Warner Brothers West Coast" (c. 1928). F. Doug a n d Mary hoisting the sign (1922). G. The back of Columbia (1935), still a great billboard gallery today. H. T h e original RKO radio beacon (1940). I. A n RKO movie palace in the thirties. [Hollywood: dred Years. Courtesy Bruce Torrence.) The First Hun-
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Figure 4-7. The fantasy world Hollywoodland development in the Hollywood Hills in 1924. down). (Hollywood: The First Hundred Years. Courtesy Bruce Torrence.)
The
giant promotional sign (upper right) gave the city its iconic landmark (once the suffix fell
out as merchants, h a d m o v e d into sideshow film exhibition, and from there to film distribution. They b e c a m e film producers mainly to provide products for their theaters. More important, the t r e m e n d o u s popularity of film d e m a n d e d quick expansion in the industry, which, in turn, required large amounts of capital investment. The "moguls" turned to the banks and became increasingly dependent on them. By the time they were forced to retool for sound, they were deeply in debt. Film historian Peter Cowie has written, "By 1936 it was possible to trace major holdings in all eight companies to the t w o powerful banking groups of Morgan a n d Rockefeller." Similar relationships between banking interests and film companies were developing in European countriesespecially Germany, w h e r e the Deutsches Bank took effective control of UFA after World War f. In recent years, banks have continued their fascination with the film industry. N e w York-based investment bankers Allen & Co. have long b e e n associated with Columbia Pictures; t h e F r e n c h b a n k Credit Lyonnais found itself in t h e early 1990s owning a bankrupt M G M after bankrolling the purchase of the venerable studio. E u r o p e a n national cinemas h a d to contend w i t h the overpowering flow of product from the American factories. Great Britain was most vulnerable in this respect. Although there was a n upsurge in British production immediately fol-
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Figure 4 - 8 . The Warner Brothers/First National/Vita phone studios in Burbank, California, August 1 9 3 1 , one of the best-equipped film production plants at the time. The large, hangarlike buildings are sound stages. To the rear can be seen a n u m b e r of standing setswestern towns, New York City streets, and the likeon the back lot. In the foreground, to the left, are administration offices and technical support facilities. (Marc Wanamaker/Bison Art Ltd.)
by Radio City Music Hall, the ultimate movie cathedral, and o n e of the few still standing (although it n o longer shows movies on a regular basis). All t h e i m p o r t a n t technical modifications t h a t t h e film process has u n d e r gonethe addition of sound, color, and widescreenwere first demonstrated to t h e public at t h e International Exposition in Paris in 1900, albeit in primitive forms. Color films, for example, were mostly handpainted, hardly a commercially viable process. Sound could be produced by the primitive nonelectronic p h o n o graph, b u t synchronization was very difficult a n d sound level was problematic. Lee De Forest's invention of the auction tube in 1906 (see Chapter 6) pointed the w a y to the workable electronic sound amplifier. By 1919 the German Tri-Ergon process h a d b e e n patented a n d film sound was a distinct possibility. In t h e late 1920s, confronted w i t h t h e growing public interest in radio a n d responding to w h a t m a y h a v e seemed like a saturated m a r k e t for silent films, t h e production companies turned hesitantly to sound. By 1932 the technological shakedown period for sound was over and the outlines identifying the Hollywood system were clear. Except for the manufacture of equipment and filmstock, the studios exerted complete control over the film pro-
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Figure 4-9. Radio City Music Hall, one of the great Art Deco movie palaces built in the thirties. (MOMA/FSA.)
patterns, conventions, a n d genres a m o n g a great m a n y films t h a n of intently focusing o n the qualities of each individual movie. This doesn't m a k e Hollywood films necessarily a n y less interesting t h a n m o r e personal w o r k s of cinematic invention, h i fact, because these films were turned out o n a n assembly-line basis in such massive numbers, they are often better indexes of public concerns, shared myths, and mores t h a n are individually conceived, intentionally artistic films. As the studios moved into the forties, these qualities became even more striking. Actively involved in propaganda and education even before the United States entered the war, the major studios displayed their particular styles even in such propaganda instruments as Freedom Comes High (Paramount) and You John Jones (MGM). Hollywood thrived during the war. In 1946, its best year, box-office grosses a m o u n t e d to $1.7 billion. In a sense, World War II h a d delayed the m o m e n t of t r u t h for the Hollywood film factories by making impossible the introduction of commercial television, which h a d been successfully demonstrated in the thirties. In addition, the w a r effectively limited competition from European countries. In the twenties, Germany h a d b e e n a major competitor, producing films that were not only popular b u t also carried with t h e m the cachet of art. In the thirties, a
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Figure 4 - 1 0 . Throughout most of the thirties and forties, Warner Brothers films were noticeably more realistic in stylegutsierthan the films of the competing studios. Here, a scene from one of Warner's best-known socially conscious movies, Mervyn Leroy's / Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang(1932). Star Paul Muni leans against the post. (MOMA/FSA.)
handful of French directors gained widespread respect for that nation's industry. Great Britain, despite the pressure of English-language films from Hollywood, produced 225 films in 1936, the second-highest o u t p u t in the world. The w a r e n d e d these threats e v e n t h o u g h it also closed m a n y export markets, hurting some small companies. The effect of television w h e n it did come in the early 1950s was devastating. Television grew out of radio rather than film, and naturally employed radio people. Instead of realizing that they could just as easily produce film product for television as for theatrical distribution, the studios tried to fight. For years, t h e y refused to capitalize on their huge backlog of product. Indeed, with very unbusinesslike shortsightedness, they often destroyed old films rather than pay for storage. The effect of this strategy was to allow television production companies time to develop, seriously w e a k e n i n g the tactical position of the studios. The same thing had h a p p e n e d forty years earlier, w h e n the trust companies had proved unwilling or unable to move from Nickelodeon shorts to theatrical features. The process of adapting to the n e w conditions was slow a n d painful, but it need not have been. It was fifteen years or more before the studios began dimly to understand h o w best to operate in the n e w environment. Aging owners and
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HI Cable Y i e w i n p . - . H;VCR '.'iewinffa D V D Viewings
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Figure 4 - 1 1 . FILM AND THE VIDEO REVOLUTION IN THE EIGHTIES AND NINETIES. Film viewing changed radically beginning in the early eighties. Despite the hype and the explosion of multiplex and megaplex screens, most films are now viewed most often on a television screen, not in a theater. The little sliver on the top right represents DVD viewings. In another ten years expect this track to dominate. The theatrical admissions figures are precise; the video viewings are conservatively extrapolated from video sales. {Sources: MPAA, NCSA, JM.)
production heads rigidly clung to the old methods of mass production in studio complexes with e n o r m o u s overhead costs. Psychologically, this m a y h a v e b e e n due to their shared roots long ago as exhibitors. Although exhibition was always the weakest link in the Hollywood monopoly chain, it held a peculiar fascination for the founders. In 1946, a ruling under the antitrust laws required Paramount Pictures (and by implication the other studios) to divest themselves of their theater chains. The studios appealed, b u t to n o avail, entering into a consent decree in 1951. This wasn't as drastic a change as it might seem. Since the studios were still permitted to maintain their distribution arms, they continued to exert actual if not legal control over exhibition. Had the studios analyzed their situation m o r e carefully the antitrust decision w o u l d h a v e h a d a salutary effect. They w o u l d simply h a v e tightened their belts and shifted their attention from the theatrical market to the new, increasingly profitable television channels. This did not h a p p e n immediately (although today the major studios, having seen the light, are responsible for most network programming).
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controlling interest in Columbia Pictures Industries. The deal fell through (there was talk of antitrust prosecution), and shortly thereafter it was a n n o u n c e d that the M G M company, with the permission of its stockholders, would split in two, the original company to continue running the casino operations (now extended to Reno and Atlantic City) while the "new" company re-entered film production and distribution. The low-budget strategy MGM's film company adopted did n o t pay off, a n d Kerkorian embarked o n a n e w r o u n d of dealmaking. In 1981 h e purchased the r e m n a n t s of United Artists from a chastened Transamerica. In 1985 h e sold the c o m p a n y to Ted Turner, only to b u y it back shortly thereafter, m i n u s t h e film library, w h i c h Turner kept, a n d the real estate, which w e n t to Lorimar. In 1989 Kerkorian sold the remnants yet again, this time to Pathe, a European entity controlled by Italian entrepreneur Giancarlo Paretti and backed by the Dutch branch of Credit Lyonnais. Paretti soon found himself in both legal and financial troubles. Credit Lyonnais took control of MGM, feverishly attempting to save its by n o w considerable investment. By 1993 the company was back in business u n d e r the stewardship of respected industry executive Frank Mancuso, formerly of Param o u n t . In 1996 Kerkorian returned for yet another round, purchasing the comp a n y (with partners Mancuso and Seven Network Ltd. of Australia) for the third (or was it fourth?) time. The price was $1.3 billion. M G M will hold the record for Hollywood stock deals for quite a while. By late 1997 M a n c u s o h a d purchased e n o u g h rights so that the company controlled the world's largest film library. A year later, M G M sold ten percent of its stock to the public. Kerkorian h a d found yet a n o t h e r w a y to harvest golden eggs from t h e tired goose. (Mancuso left in 1999.) The M G M saga was certainly the most humiliating, b u t it was only o n e of a long series of financial stories that kept Hollywood's increasingly profitable restaurants buzzing from the late 1970s through the turn of the century. Indeed, in "the industry," the deal had become both more important and more entertaining t h a n the product, and the biggest and best deals involved studios, n o t movies, a fact that was not lost o n the increasingly powerful talent agencies, as w e shall see. In 1977 David Begelman, t h e n head of production at Columbia, was charged with embezzling $60,000 in a sordid case that received wide publicity coverage and that engendered m u c h talk about various shady business practices in Hollywood (none of which were n e w ) . Alan J. Hirschfield, t h e n president of Columbia, attempted to fire Begelman on ethical grounds and was himself dismissed. M a n y observers felt that the m a n a g e m e n t of Columbia Pictures Industries cared more for Begelman's fabled knack for making profitable pictures t h a n for Hirschfield's moral stance. Begelman was eventually convicted and finedand hired as head of production at MGM. Hirschfield also landed o n his feet, as president of Twentieth Century Fox.
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SAN
Figure 4-12.
" H O L L Y W O O D " TODAY. Los Angeles today is a vast suburban sprawl covering
the Basin to the south of the Santa Monica mountains (Mulholland Drive) and the San Fernando Valley to the north: a city built after the invention of the automobile and impossible without it. There remains a tiny kernel of an early twentieth-century eastern city t u c k e d behind the modern skyscrapers of the new " d o w n t o w n . " You c a n shoot for, say, Cleveland, on Hill Street or Broadway in the old L A . , and filmmakers still do. If you drive out Wilshire Boulevard from d o w n t o w n , past the once-distant s u b u r b of Hollywood, through trendy West Hollywood and placid Beverly Hills, past Twentieth Century Fox's greatest a c h i e v e m e n t the Century City office d e v e l o p m e n t a r o u n d Westwood into Santa Monica, you understand the historical development of a city that invented itself on the model of its beloved industry. Today, only one major studio is actually situated in Hollywood. The others, like L A . itself, are spread out in a wide ring on both sides of the hill.
caught up in the troubles of its sister studio, Columbia. Medavoy left in 1994, endingat least temporarilyone of the longest careers of any modern studio chief. The growth of minor "studios" and "mini-majors" in the 1980s further spread the power base (even if companies like Cannon and Carolco had life spans on the order of desert flowers). One of the minors thrived and survived. New Line Cinema had been founded by Bob Shaye in offices above a seedy bar on University Place in Greenwich Village in 1967. Growing slowly from imports and pickups, by the late 1970s New Line was ready to enter production. Two series of gory horror films, Friday the 13th
"Movies": Economics Apparently the "synergies" between movies and soft drinks weren't there. By 1989 Coke was ready to sell. Allen's friend super-agent Michael Ovitz found a willing buyer in Sony, the most creative force in the postwar electronics industry, w h o w e r e n o w turning their attention to software a n d h a d just the year before purchased CBS Records. It wasn't long before the other shoe dropped: in 1990 Ovitz a n d Allen arranged the sale of MCA for a s u m in excess of $6 billion to Sony's arch-rival Matsushita. By 1990 six of the eight organizations that could call themselves Hollywood studios w e r e in foreign hands.* Only P a r a m o u n t a n d Disney remained wholly U.S.-owned. This state of affairs m a y be sobering to aging cultural critics w h o railed against American cultural imperialism back in the 1970s. With a sense of the grand and profligate gesture which endeared it to the Hollywood c o m m u n i t y , Sony immediately hired producers Peter Guber a n d J o n Petersfresh from their Batman triumphto head the studio. To do so, Sony had to b u y out their contract with Warner and purchase their production company, which added h u n d r e d s of millions to the purchase price. (Matsushita, conservative as always, left Universal m a n a g e m e n t in place.) The team was not successful. Meanwhile, back at the ranchCentury City, to be preciseTwentieth Century Fox was acquired by oilman Marvin Davis in 1981 a n d sold to Australian media baron Rupert Murdoch in 1985. With Barry Diller at the helm, Fox became a major force in television during the late 1980s. At the e n d of the decade, after the dust h a d settled, t w o Hollywood studios w e r e o n a shared deathbed (MGM a n d UA), o n e was self-destructing (Orion), a n d all except P a r a m o u n t a n d Disney h a d changed ownership at least once. It wasn't for w a n t of trying. R u m o r s surfaced regularly about Disney. And Param o u n t chief Martin S. Davis, w h o had refocused Gulf + Western after the death of Charles Bluhdorn, changing its n a m e to Paramount Communications to reflect a concentration on media, had tried unsuccessfully for the Time Inc. prize. Davis finally m a d e a deal in 1994, selling the larger P a r a m o u n t to S u m n e r Redstone's smaller, tightly held Viacom, but not until after a protracted contest with former Paramount headand Davis's arch-nemesisBarry Differ."'' This battle set off a n o t h e r r o u n d of feverish dealmaking. Sony stuck w i t h Columbia for the time being, but Matsushita, always m o r e conservative, bailed * Columbia/Tri-Star is owned by Sony, a Japanese company; Toshiba, another Japanese company, had a significant stake in Warners (reduced in 1998); MGM and UA, for what they are worth, are part-owned by Australians; Fox is owned by Rupert Murdoch's News Corp. (Murdoch became a U.S. citizen in the 1980s for business reasons, but News Corp. is still Australia-based.) Since 1995, the major stake in Universal has been owned by the Canadian-based Bronfman's family's Seagram Company, Ltd. Before that it belonged to Matsushita.
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"Movies": Economics Spielberg was finally ready to m a k e a m o v e . With Spielberg gone from the lot, Universal was a less attractive property. Matsushita sold it in less t h a n a year. M e a n w h i l e , after several setbacks, e m i n e n c e grise Barry Diller was making moves in the East. Arguably the most influential industry executive of the f 980s, Diller had done well at Paramount (where Eisner and Katzenberg trained) before m o v i n g to Fox to build a n effective n e w television n e t w o r k for Rupert Murdocha feat that h a d n o t b e e n equaled before. W h e n in i 9 9 2 it became clear t h a t despite its size News Corp. w a s a family business, leaving n o r o o m for his o w n advancement, Diller quit. After a lengthy tour of the n e w media industry h e b o u g h t into QVC, a cable shopping channel, intending to use it as a base for expansion. After losing a bidding war for Paramount to Sumner Redstone's Viacom, Diller moved out of QVC, acquiring shares in Silver King, a Florida-based chain of television stations. In December 1995 h e announced the purchase of Home Shopping Network, erstwhile competitor to QVC, a n d t h e acquisition of Savoy Pictures Entertainment Inc., a publicly traded film production company. In the fall of t 9 9 7 Diller bought a couple of cable networks and most of the television programming division of Universal for $4.1 billion, a deal i n t e n d e d to give h i m t h e mass h e needed to found his o w n network. At about this time h e realized h e was weak o n the Internet side. The newly-renamed USA Networks, Inc. bought 47 percent of Ticketmaster from Paul Allen in 1997, acquiring t h e rest the n e x t year, a n d merged it with acquisition CitySearch in 1998, t h e n selling shares of the subsidiary to the public. In f 999 Diller bid unsuccessfully for Internet portal Lycos: the Lycos shareholders thought USA Networks wasn't Internet e n o u g h for t h e m . At the end of the century Diller was still struggling to find the right combination of elements for his vision of the studio of the future. Despite this unprecedented financial upheaval, there has been n o discernible change in the product that Hollywood manufactures. At the turn of the century the corporate entities that o w n the studios believe in synergy. They are horizontally (rather t h a n vertically) integrated organizations. In addition to studios, they also o w n paperback book publishing companies, record companies, television production companies, t h e m e parks, sports franchises, chains of video stores, stadiums, and the occasional wild animal preserve. (They've sold the toy companies.) A property, once acquired, can n o w be exploited in five or more media: films, books, records, broadcast television, and videodisc and tape. Yet the print divisions of Time Warner deal with the film division as if it were still a separate company; Columbia doesn't hire any more musicians u n d e r contract to Sony Music t h a n they did previously; and there is n o profitable connection between Twentieth Century Fox and Rupert Murdoch's tabloid newspapers (except that they inspired his tabloid television journalism).
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"Movies": Economics There are n o w more t h a n twice as m a n y nominal movie theaters in the U.S. as there w e r e in the early 1970s. More important, m o r e t h a n half of Hollywood's income n o w comes from ancillary rights, mainly video. Yet this great increase in the n u m b e r of distribution channels hasn't h a d the effect o n e might h a v e predicted. Despite a brief flirtation with the n e w freedom in the late sixties, the studios h a v e b e e n loath to exploit these possibilities. Instead, they t u r n e d increasingly in the seventies to the blockbuster film (usually of the action genre), presold t h r o u g h books and aided by massive saturation television advertising, absorbing h u g e a m o u n t s of capital in the process. This practice continued t h r o u g h o u t the 1980s. Indeed, a y o u n g moviegoer today w o u l d b e surprised to discover that there once was a time w h e n successful films did not immediately engender a raft of sequels. Internationally, the death of the old studio system h a d positive effects, simply becausefor a whileit opened u p world markets to more strenuous competition. In the early fifties, the French and the Italian governments established quasiofficial export sales organizations (Unifrance, Unitalia) that were instrumental in softening u p markets for those countries' films (Unifrance having been m u c h more active t h a n its Italian counterpart). The growth of film festivals in most major film-producing countries was effective in this respect as well. Two important factors in the film production equation in m a n y countries have b e e n government subsidy plans and television coproduction. The model for this n e w m e t h o d of finance was the Swedish Film Institute, founded in 1963 to distribute monies collected from a 10 percent tax o n all cinema admissions, partly o n the basis of gross receipts, partly o n the basis of quality. The Swedish plan encouraged the vigorous growth of a n exportable film industry in a very small country. The French subsidy system has h a d a marked effect on that country's film industry. In 1993 French subsidies totaled $350 million distributed to 150 French pictures m a d e that year. The m o n e y came from a box-office taxmostly o n American pictures, w h i c h increasingly d o m i n a t e French screens, despite the subsidy system to which they contribute by their very popularity. European film production was aided, too, in the fifties a n d the sixties by American location productions abroad, designed to take advantage of lower costs. This temporary internationalism came to an end in 1970, as prices equalized and as the American companies found themselves in a m o n e t a r y bind. The British film industry, w h i c h h a d d e p e n d e d heavily o n American capital in t h e sixties, was nearly decimated by the withdrawal. But film's loss was television's gain. The best British filmmakers n o w work in television (or in Hollywood). By 1980 the American companies had regained effective control of the world's screens, challenged only occasionally a n d weakly by E u r o p e a n conglomerates such as Lord Grade's ITC or Polygram. The extraordinary success of the French pay-television company Canal Plus in the eighties and nineties suggested that it
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"Film": Politics o n e public n e t w o r k h a v e controlled access to television. The digital revolution a n d the Internet, together with the newly attained maturity of cable television (see Chapter 6), n o w present a remarkable multiplicity of access channels. Will Hollywood continue to dominate American entertainment? Or will the power centers shift from the studios' San Fernando Valley to the computer industry's Silicon Valleyor e v e n back to t h e publishing industry's H u d s o n Valley, where the film industry was born more than a century ago?
"Film": Politics
The economics of film determines its infrastructureits foundationsand therefore its potential. The politics of film determines its structure: that is, the w a y it relates to the world. We understand film, experience it, and consume it from two different perspectives. The "sociopolitics" of film describes h o w it reflects and is integrated with h u m a n experience in general. Film's "psychopolitics" attempts to explain h o w w e relate to it personally and specifically. Because film is such a widespread popular p h e n o m e n o n , it plays a very important part in m o d e r n culture, soa'opoliticaiiy. Because it provides such a powerful and convincing representation of reality, film also has a profound effect o n members of its audience, psyc/wpolitically. The t w o aspects are closely interrelated, yet the differentiation is useful, since it focuses attention on the difference between the general effect of film and its specific personal effect. Whichever way w e look at it, film is a distinctly political p h e n o m e n o n . Indeed, its very existence is revolutionary. In his l a n d m a r k essay o n the subject, "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction," the critic Walter Benjamin wrote: One might generalize by saying: the technique of reproduction detaches the reproduced object from the domain of tradition.... ft substitutes a plurality of copies for a unique existence. And in permitting the reproduction to meet the beholder or listener in his o w n particular situation, it reactivates the object reproduced. These two processes lead to a tremendous shattering of tradition.... Both processes are intimately connected with the contemporary mass movements. Their most powerful agent is the film. Its social significance, particularly in its most positive form, is inconceivable without its destructive, cathartic aspect, that is, the liquidation of the traditional value of the cultural heritage [Illuminations, p. 221]. Benjamin's prose is a bit abstruse, b u t the points h e m a k e s are basic to a n understanding of the w a y film (and other mechanically reproduced arts) function in society. The most significant difference, Benjamin is saying, between film and
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film artiststhe Lumiere brothers and Georges Meliessuccinctly demonstrated this dichotomy b e t w e e n realism a n d expressionism. Yet, underlying the dialectic of mimesis/expression is another, more basic, premise: that the definition of film style depends o n t h e film's relationship w i t h its audience. W h e n a filmmaker decides o n a realist style, h e or she does so to decrease t h e distance b e t w e e n viewer a n d subject; the expressionist style, on the other hand, looks to change, move, or a m u s e the observer t h r o u g h the technique of film. Both these esthetic decisions are essentially political, since they insist o n relationships (among filmmaker, film, subject, and observer) rather t h a n idealized abstract systems. In this way, too, film is inherently a n d directly political: it has a dynamic relationship with its audiences. To summarize, every film, n o matter h o w minor it m a y seem, exhibits a political nature on one or more of these three levels: ontologically, because the m e d i u m of film itself tends to deconstruct the traditional values of the culture; mimetically, because any film either reflects reality or recreates it (and its politics); inherently, because the intense communicative nature of film gives the relationship between film and observer a natural political dimension.
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A political history of film, then, might very well be three times as complex as an esthetic history, since w e should trace the development of all three political facets. We h a v e space to examine only a few of the most salient features of film politics. Ontologically, the best evidence w e have that film has radically altered traditional values lies in the p h e n o m e n o n of celebrity. Previously, heroic models for society were either purely fictional creations or real people of accomplishment (whom w e k n e w only at one remove). Film fused the two types: real people became fictional characters. The concept of the "star" developedand stars are quite different from "actors." The most important role Douglas Fairbanks played was not Robin Hood or Zorro, but "Douglas Fairbanks." (In fact, Douglas Fairbanks was played by Douglas Ullmanhis original name.) Likewise, Charles Chaplin played, not Hitler or Monsieur Verdoux, but always "Chariot," the tramp, and Mary Pickford (with Chaplin and Fairbanks the United Artists, the preeminent stars of their day) was forever typecast as "Little Mary, America's sweetheart." W h e n she tried in the late twenties to change her public image, her career came to a n end. Early film producers seem to have been well aware of the potential p h e n o m e n o n of stardom. They insisted that their actors work in anonymity. In 1912, however, the first fan magazines appeared, identifying "the Biograph Girl" and "Little Mary." A few years later, having b e e n liberated from anonymity, Chaplin and
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Figure 4 - 1 3 A B . STARS. Both Fairbanks (left) a n d Chaplin (right) are "out of character" in these publicity shots, but because they had become celebrity personalities by this time, even off the set they carried with t h e m the aura of stars. {MOMA/FSA.)
Pickford w e r e vying to see which of t h e t w o would be t h e first to sign a milliondollar contract. Clearly, Little Mary a n d Chariot h a d struck responsive chords in audiences. The complex relationship b e t w e e n stars a n d t h e public h a s b e e n a prime element of the mythic, and hence political, nature of film ever since. "Stars" act o u t their personas t h r o u g h n o m i n a l character roles. "Celebrities" appear mainly as "themselves" a n d are k n o w n , in Daniel Boorstin's apt phrase, "for their well-knownness." We t e n d to downplay t h e significance of this p h e n o m e n o n , yet stars are extraordinary psychological models of a type that never existed before. We can trace t h e development of the p h e n o m e n o n of celebrity back to the lecture circuits of t h e nineteenth century, w h e r e intellectual heroes such as Charles Dickens a n d Mark Twain (a "character," by t h e way, created by Samuel Clemens) played themselves to adoring audiences. Yet, until t h e "age of mechanical reproduction," these celebrities reached few people. The public outpouring of grief over t h e d e a t h of R u d o l p h Valentino i n 1926, after his short a n d undistinguished career as a film actor, exceeded in intensity a n d dimension t h e reaction to a n y similar public death u p to that time. It was only after politicians became celebrities that victims of assassination elicited such universal mourning. Although studio moguls tried to construct stars of this magnitude artificially, t h e y seldom succeeded. Stars w e r e a n d still a r e t h e creation of t h e public: political a n d psychological models w h o demonstrate some quality that w e collec-
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Figure 4 - 1 4 A B . H u m p h r e y Bogart (left) as Philip Marlowe in The Big Sleep (Howard Hawks, 1946). {MOMA/FSA.) Breathless film and life. Jean-Paul Belmondo (right) as Michel Poiccard m i m i c k i n g Bogart in (Jean-Luc Godard, 1959). The driving force of the film is the relationship between
tively admire. Clark Gable was objectively n o m o r e physically attractive t h a n dozens of other young leading m e n of the thirties, yet there was something in the persona h e projected that touched a responsive chord. H u m p h r e y Bogart was not a n extraordinary actor a n d certainly not handsome by Hollywood standards, yet h e became a central role model not only for his o w n generation but also for their children. As t h e actors b e c a m e stars, their images b e g a n to affect a u d i e n c e s directly. Star cinemaHollywood styledepends o n creating a strong identification between hero and audience. We see things from his point of view. The effect is subtle but pervasive. Nor is this p h e n o m e n o n peculiar to Hollywood. In the sixties, European cine m a d e m o n s t r a t e d some of t h e same mystical p o w e r of identification. W h e n Jean-Paul Belmondo models himself o n H u m p h r e y Bogart in Jean-Luc Godard's Breathless (1960), h e is a n n o u n c i n g a second generation of celebrity, o n e t h a t demonstrates a historical consciousness. Marcello Mastroianni became the epito m e of existential European m a n h o o d . At his death in 1996 h e was treated like a * Few film critics and historians have written cogently about stars. David Thomson's Biographical Dictionary of Film offers a wealth of intelligent and telling sketches. Richard Schickel's His Picture in the Papers is a thoughtful introduction to the subject. See also Celebrity, edited by James Monaco, and Stars, by Richard Dyer.
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Figure 4 - 1 5 . James Dean in a publicity still for Rebel Without a Cause (Nicholas Ray, 1955). Within a year, he was dead in an auto accident at the age of twenty-four, completing the legend. Although he only m a d e three major films before his death (East of Eden and Giant, as well as Rebel), Dean touched a responsive chord in a u d i ences of the fifties, and the outpouring of grief at his death was reminiscent of the hysteria surrounding Rudolph Valentino's death thirty years earlier. There is even a film about the effects of his death on some teenagers in a small southern town: James Bridges's September30,1955(1977). (MOMA/FSA.)
of course t h r o u g h o u t the history of film a n d television. In this respect, too, the media faithfully reflected the values of the society. But they also exaggerated the real situation. In general (there w e r e some exceptions), films pictured Blacks in servile roles. More important, Blacks w e r e used only to play Blacksthat is, in roles in which race was a significant element. One of the great accomplishments of the Black Power m o v e m e n t of t h e 1960s was to begin to crack that barrier. Black lawyers, doctors, businessmeneven heroesare n o w validated by the media (if only intermittently). Yet it is still rare for a casting director to hire a n African-American to play a role that isn't specified as "Black." As with so m a n y other aspects of our culture, progress in racial politics seems to have been in a state of suspension for thirty years.* On the face of it, there were n o m o r e o r betterroles for African-Americans in the 1990s in m a i n s t r e a m films t h a n there were in the 1970s. One of the brighter developments of the past few years has been the n e w group of African-American directors w h o have established themselves o n the fringes of Hollywood. Yet there is nothing to connect the interesting w o r k of filmmakers like Spike Lee, Matty Rich, a n d J o h n Singleton w i t h the first w a v e of Black film 25 years earlier; t h e y are n o t building o n the work of the previous generation, they have h a d to start over again. I personally date the beginning of this deep freeze from 1971, when Don McLean first sang about "the day the music died," on American Pie.
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B Figure 4-16. (A) Brando in the fifties. A Streetcar Named Desire (Elia Kazan, 1951). Brando, too, projected an image of rebellion that caught the public imagination of the fifties. But in twenty years the sexual energy had modified to produce the quirky, desolate image of... (B) Brando in the seventies. Here
in Last Tango in Paris (Bernardo Bertolucci,
1972). The eyes, the look, the gestures, the relationships with women were similar, but more seasoned after twenty years. (C) Brando
in the nineties (The Island of Dr. Moreau,
1996). He was the first of the great stars to develop an image as a thoughtful actor as well as a personality, and also one of the first to become a caricature of himself. C
Racism pervades American film because it is a basic strain in American history. It is o n e of t h e sad facts of film history that t h e l a n d m a r k The Birth of a Nation (1915) is generally hailed as a classic despite its essential racism. No a m o u n t of technical expertise demonstrated, m o n e y invested, or artistic effect should b e allowed to outweigh t h e essential racist tone of The Birth of a Nation, yet w e continue in film history as it is presently written to praise t h e film for its form, ignoring its offensive content. This is n o t to imply that Griffith's masterpiece w a s anomalous. Until t h e late fifties, racial stereotypes were pervasive in film, t h e n in television. There h a d been
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Figure 4 - 1 7 . The riots surrounding the Democratic Party convention in Chicago 1 9 6 8 formed the background for Haskell Wexler's Medium Cool (1969). Immersing himself and his crew in reality, Wexler crafted a moving essay about the passivity that television inculcates. In a famous line, one of Wexler's crew shouts to h i m , "Look out, Haskell. It's real!" as the tear-gas canisters start popping around the filmmakersas well as their subjects.
liberal acts of conscience beforefilms such as King Vidor's Hallelujah (1929) or Elia Kazan's Pinky ( 1 9 4 9 ) b u t e v e n t h e s e w e r e a l m o s t w i t h o u t e x c e p t i o n marked by subtle condescension. It was not until the late sixties that Blacks began to take o n nonstereotypical roles in American film. We are speaking h e r e of Hollywood. A thriving if limited African-American film industry, separate and unequal, dated from the 1920s, producing films about Blacks, by Blacks, for Blacks. But, of course, general audiences rarely saw these films. Native Americans w e r e as poorly served until very recently. Since they w e r e integral to t h e popular genre of t h e Western, t h e y w e r e seen o n screen m o r e often t h a n Blacks, but the stereotypes were just as damaging. There w e r e a few exceptions in this regard. Possibly because t h e battle h a d already b e e n w o n against t h e Indians, films w e r e occasionally produced that portrayed t h e m in a positive, h u m a n light. Thomas Ince's The Indian Massacre (1913) is a n early example, J o h n Ford's Cheyenne Autumn (1964) a later instance. Despite their rapidly increasing influence in U.S. culture, Asian-Americans have b e e n relatively quiet o n the film front. Bruce Lee in the 1970s and his son Brandon in the 1990s b o t h dominated the martial-arts genre before their eerily
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Figure 4 - 1 8 . Lucia Lynn Moses in The Scar of Shame (1927), produced by the Colored Players Film Corp., and directed by Frank Peregini. (MOMA/FSA.)
coaxing w o m e n w h o had gained a measure of independence during the war back into the h o m e . But it was certainly a false picture of the real world in the seventies, eighties, a n d nineties w h e n millions of w o m e n were raising their o w n consciousness, if not their spouses'. For instance, one of the first films of the seventies that was praised for its "feminist" approach was Martin Scorsese's Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1975); yet that film presented us with a w o m a n w h o , w h e n deprived of the creature comforts of domesticity, couldn't survive o n her o w n and, in the end, happily submitted to the role of helpmate once again. W h y otherwise intelligent critics regarded Alice as in any w a y feminist is difficult to say, unless it was simply that the situation had deteriorated so drastically that any film that gave a w o m a n a central role, n o matter w h a t its politics, had to be regarded as a n advance. Despite a lot of hype, the feminist position in film didn't advance m u c h in the seventies or eighties. Such v a u n t e d w o m e n ' s films as An Unmarried Woman, The Turning Point, a n d Julia (all 1978) did, it's true, use w o m e n as central characters, b u t w i t h n o discernible raised consciousness. M a r t i n Ritt's d r a m a Norma Rae (1979) gave Sally Field a powerful, Oscar-winning role as protagonist b u t dealt more with u n i o n politics t h a n sexual politics. Ironically, the film of that period that showed the most sophisticated understanding of sexual politics was Robert Benton's Kramer vs Kramer (1979), in which the w o m a n (Kramer, played by Meryl Streep) was, if not actually the villain, t h e n certainly the source of the problem, and the focus was almost entirely on the sensitive and painful reaction of the m a n (Kramer, Dustin Hoffman) to a classic feminist-inspired situation of the seventies. No film in recent years has s h o w n this
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Figure 4 - 1 9 . "America's Sweetheart," Little Mary Pickford (c. 1920): sausage curls, g i n g h a m , and cute puppies. (Marc Wanamaker/Bison Art Ltd.)
Figure
4-20.
Judy
Garland
as
Dorothy
(1939): pigtails, more gingham, and childhood fantasies: America's second-generation sweetheart. (Bison Art Ltd.)
sensitivity and concern for a w o m a n ' s point of view. Indeed, if we are to judge from Hollywood's evidence, t h e m a i n benefit of the c o n t e m p o r a r y w o m e n ' s m o v e m e n t has been to free m e n from male stereotypes. This is true, but it is not anywhere near the whole truth. In the eighties, the " n e w w o m e n ' s movie" (f hesitate to call it feminist film) quickly became an accepted genre, but without any real emotional or political clout. Such modern-day "women's movies" as Steel Magnolias (1989), Fried Green Tomatoes (1991), Nine to Five (1980), or Thelma & Louise (1991), for all their virtues, don't tell us m u c h about sexual politics. The first two deal with w o m e n in their o w n world, while the last two simply let t h e m play the buddies the m e n usually play, celebrating the newly acceptable character of the liberated w o m a n without extending the dialogue and without challenging accepted mores. So what else is n e w ? From the mid-1970s through the end of the century sexual politics in America and Europe, like politics in general, has existed in a state of suspended animation. The same issues were discussed on the twenty-fifth Earth Day as o n the first. The same problems confront w h a t we continue to call, inappropriately, "minorities" n o w as then. The struggle continues to continue. Yet, despite the fact that we can't point to a continuity of progress, the situation of w o m e n in film n o w is better t h a n it was thirty years ago. There is an indefinable sense that the balance between m e n and w o m e n is shifting. More important,
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Figure 4 - 2 1 . Clara Bow, the IT girl, projected a powerful sexual image in the twenties, but with a sense of h u m o r that made her acceptable to still-puritan American audiences. "S.A."sex appealhas powered the industry since.
it is n o w n o longer unusual for an actress to be able to prolong h e r career as female lead well into her fifties: J a n e Fonda, Shirley MacLaine, Tina Turner, Goldie Hawn, and Barbra Streisand suffered n o decrease in earning power as they matured. And Susan Sarandon was past forty before she realized the full range of her talent. Sarandon is the first American actress in a long while to combine sexuality with mature intelligence in an ongoing star persona, just as Meryl Streep has carved a position for herself as a commanding "actor's actor." Indeed, here w o m e n have taken the lead in redefining our attitude toward aging. The generation that came of age in the 1960s, the "War Babies" and the "Baby Boomers," have decided to maintain a level of sexuality well into their fifties and sixties that was unheard of thirty years ago.
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Figure 4 - 2 2 . After twenty-five years of independent, witty, strong w o m e n stars like Katharine Hepburn, Rosalind Russell, and Bette Davis, American film returned to raw "S.A." in the early fifties. Marilyn Monroe's remarkable career saw her portray male fantasies on screen while she boldly explored the boundaries of fifties-style eroticism off-screen. Her nude calendar poses would have been considered pornographic at the time. This is a shot from her last photo session, six weeks before her death. Bert Stern was the photographer. {Used with permission.)
At the same time, paradoxically, Generation X clasped to its bosom a retrograde sexual mythology that echoed the worst of the 1950s. M a d o n n a refashioned the Marilyn Monroe sex kitten into a campy Valkyrie whose armor was her underwear. Truth or Dare was a stage most of us leave behind as high-school sophomores. Actresses like Sharon Stone, Demi Moore, Kim Basinger, and Drew Barrymore are used and abused on a regular basis. Like their male predecessors in the 1980sSean Penn, Rob Lowe, Matt Dillon, Patrick Swayzethis n e w generation of actresses plays on less admirable Hollywood traditions. It is not enough to suggest that these roles m a y be ironic; w e all k n o w w h a t they are selling. In the 1990s, sex disintegrated into a commodity, a n d a vaguely boring o n e at that. Hard-core "porn" like Deep Throat and The Devil in Miss Jonesfilms which caused a furor w h e n t h e y w e r e released in t h e early seventiesis n o w available o n n u m e r o u s cable networks in every living room and keeps most suburban video stores in profits. Since Flashdance (1983) a n d Dirty Dancing (1987), sex for teens and preteens has been a profitable Hollywood sideline, and m a n y theatrical fea-
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Figure 4-23. During the same period, Doris Day's roles were just as limitedand limiting even if she was the girl-nextdoor foil to Monroe's sex kitten.
tures exploit their soft-core assets by releasing m o r e explicit "video cuts" to t h e cassette market.* Perhaps this is progress; perhaps it is necessary to pass t h r o u g h this phase to rediscover romance a n d nonpornographic eroticism; perhaps t h e AIDS epidemic requires more "virtual sex." In a n y case, it seems like t h e turn of t h e century is a good time to re-view Fellini Satyricon, a n d to remind ourselves that Clara Bow, t h e "It" girl of t h e twenties w h o introduced t h e idea of sex appeal, played h e r role with a wit a n d directness that revealed b o t h a greater sense of self a n d a m o r e powerful sensuality t h a n w e find in any storeful of current video cuts. Sexual politics in film is closely connected with w h a t w e might call t h e "dream function" of t h e movies. M u c h of t h e academic criticism of t h e late seventies and eighties focused o n this aspect of t h e film experience. The strong identification w e make with cinematic heroes is simply observed evidence that film operates o n our psyches n o t unlike dreams. This is t h e inherent aspect of film politics: h o w do w e interrelate with films? Since t h e early days, filmmakers have been in t h e business of selling fantasies of romance a n d actionor, to use t h e contemporary synThis marketing trend grew through the 1990s and reached its nadir in 1999 as teenage sexual fantasies were replaced by Beavis-and-Butthead-inspived preteen
bathroom humor in films like South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut and Austin Powers:
The Spy Who Shagged Me as Hollywood zeroed in on the lucrative preadolescent male market. The trend came to be known as "gross-out humor."
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Figure 4 - 2 4 . The sixties saw only a little improvement over the fifties in w o m e n ' s roles. On the whole, m e n dominated the American screens of the decade, as the b u d d y film celebrated male bonding. Here, Paul N e w m a n and Robert Redford go out with g u n s blazing in Cassidyand the Sundance Kid (1969), perhaps the apotheosis of B u d d y films. Butch
onyms, sex and violence. In this respect, film is not m u c h different from literature. Popular films, like popular novels, depend o n the motivating forces of these twin hbidinal impulses. The issue is complex: film satisfies the libido not only by giving a kind of life to fantasies, b u t also m o r e formallythe style of a film, its idiom, can be either romantic or active, sexual or violent, without any regard to its content. In addition, it is far from clear w h a t precise effect this particular function of film has on the people w h o experience it. Does it take the place of real experience? Or does it inspire it? This is a particularly interesting c o n u n d r u m w h e n expressed in terms of political action. A film in which the hero wins the day m a y simply convey to audiences that "business is being taken care of"that there is n o need to actwhile a film in w h i c h the h e r o loses m a y be t a k e n as a sign that action is futile. H o w can a political filmmaker, then, create a structure in which the audience is involved, but not to such a n extent that the characters serve as surrogates? H o w can it be m a d e clear that action is both possible and still necessary in real life? There are n o simple answers.
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Figure 4 - 2 5 . It wasn't until 1 9 9 l ' s Thelma & Louise that the b u d d y t h e m e was feminized in a hit movie. The film about two gun-toting w o m e n renegades caused a media sensation as audiences argued about its potential as a feminist statement. Here Geena Davis and Susan Sarandon take off with the pedal to the metal.
The question of surrogate action is more easiiy explained in terms of romance and sex. Here the characters are clearly surrogates for the audience and there is n o real intent to suggest that the drama of the film be carried over into real life. In fact, the verisimilitude of the film experience suggests the opposite: that the experience of the film can to a great extent replace the experience of reality. We speak of film "fans" and film "buffs," but there is also a subculture of film "addicts": people with such a strong need for the dream experience of film that it might very well be physiological as well as psychological. These profound effects of film have not as yet been studied in sufficient detail. M u c h of the most interesting w o r k in film theory during the next few years will concern such topics. The libidinal effect of film as dream also has a more practical aspect. Ever since Edison's Kinetoscope loop the J o h n Rice-May Irwin Kiss (1896), movies have excited outpourings of moralism, which in t u r n have led to censorship. While in Continental countries film censorship has most often been political in nature, in the U.S. and Britain it has been anti-sexual and puritanical, a vestige of native puritanism and Victorian attitudes toward sex. In 1922, in response to supposed public moral outrage at a recent spate of sex scandals involving film actors (notably t h e Fatty Arbuckle affair), Hollywood founded the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America organization (the MPPA), colloquially k n o w n as the "Hays Office" after its first president. The Hays Office performed n o formal censorship, preferring to counter bad publicity with good, but gradually guidelines were issued. The first production code dated
c
Figure 4 - 2 6 . While the eighties and nineties did not see a return to the independent wit and depth of character the w o m e n of the thirties and forties showed, the period was remarkable in one respect: as the actresses of the sixties and seventies aged, led by Jane Fonda and Barbra Streisand, they continued to play romantic leads throughout their forties well into their fifties. For the first time since perhaps the eighteenth century, middle-aged w o m e n were allowed to retain their sexuality, even flaunt it. (Of course, American m e n had aged gracefully and sexily on the screen ever since Fairbanks.) (A) Tina Turner at 5 4 . (B) Goldie Hawn at 4 9 . (C) Susan Sarandon at 5 1 as the sexy star in Twilight (1998). (D) T r u m p i n g all of her contemporaries, erstwhile sixties singer Nancy Sinatra posed for a classic Playboy photo spread in 1 9 9 5 at the age of 5 4 .
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Figure 4-27. That we haven't yet regained the sexual political equilibrium of the 1940s is certainly more our own fault than Hollywood's. Despite thirty-five years of "sexual revolution" and twenty-five years of an active feminist movement, sexuality in the nineties was, more often than not, sour and dysfunctional, as suggested here in this Sharon Stone publicity shot. After eight hundred years of Romance, the flesh remains willing but the lyric spirit is weak. Perhaps it is time to build new temples for Euterpe, Erato, and Thalia.
from 1930. W h e n Joseph Breen joined the MPPA in 1934, the code began to be strictly enforced. (The Catholic Legion of Decency was founded the same year and exerted a marked puritanical influence until the early sixties.) The code made absurd demands o n filmmakers. Not only were outright acts of sex a n d violence strictly prohibited, b u t also a set of guidelines was laid d o w n (and strictly enforced) that prohibited the depiction of double beds, even for married couples, a n d censored such expletives as "God," "hell," "damn," "nuts" even "nerts." The effect was profound. One of the greatest surprises awaiting a student of film first experiencing precode movies is the discovery that in the late twenties and very early thirties films h a d a surprisingly contemporary sense of morality and dealt with issues, such as sex a n d drugs, that w e r e forbidden thereafter until t h e late sixties. The effect is curiously disorienting. We h a v e g r o w n u p w i t h late thirties, forties, a n d fifties Hollywood through the wide exposure of the films (usually recensored) o n television. To experience some of the realistic films from the precode era is to discover a lost generation. O n e of the last vestiges of precode relevance, for example, was t h e cycle of Gangster Rims-Public Enemy (1931) a n d Scarf ace (1932) a m o n g themthat attempted to treat political issues dirertly. In Britain, self-censorship by the British Board of Film Censors dates from 1912. Interestingly, the British system of censorship has h a d a less marked effect t h a n the American code. Until 1951, British films were rated U, A, or H (for Universal, Adults, a n d Horrificprohibited to children u n d e r sixteen). The object has
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b e e n to protect young children from u n d u e exposure to extreme violence (which is w h a t "horrific" meant), a n unobjectionable aim. In 1951, as sex became m o r e important in film, H was replaced with X. The American code was useful to producers throughout the Hollywood period. Although it set u p maddeningly arbitrary rules, it also freed the studios from any ethical pressure to deal with relevant political and sexual subjects or even to treat milder subjects with a degree of sophistication. Hollywood settled comfortably in the mid-thirties into a style of filmmaking that generally eschewed relevance in favor of t h e highly prized, often hollow, fantasy "entertainment values" of the Golden Age. It was not only the direct proscriptions of the code that w e r e significant. The code also had a general chilling effect o n a n industry that was particularly susceptible to economic pressure. In addition, this vulnerability yielded another type of censorship. The studios produced nothing that would offend powerful minorities in the audience. They were also very eager to please w h e n the political establishm e n t m a d e suggestions. The lawlessness of the Prohibition era, for example, led to a cycle of protofascist movies in the early thirtiesStar Witness (1931), Okay America (1932), and Gabriel Over the White House (1934) are examples. During World War IT, naturally, Hollywood rose to the occasion, not only by producing thousands of training and propaganda films (the most famous example being Frank Capra's Why We Fight series), b u t also by quickly erecting in fiction films a m y t h of t h e conflict t h a t played n o small part in uniting t h e c o u n t r y behind the struggle.
Film": Politics A perfect example of this is Delmer Daves's Destination Tokyo (1943), which displays the usual varied ethnic group united against the c o m m o n enemy. As leader, Cary Grant stops in mid-picture to write a letter h o m e to his wife in the Midwest. The sequence takes a good ten minutes. As Grant writes, justifying the war, documentary shots illustrate his lecture, the gist of which is that the Japanese and the Germans are racially despicable, while our allies, the Chinese and the Russians, are genetically destined to win a n d historically peace-loving people very m u c h like ourselves! Later, this didn't fit very well with the mythology of the Cold War. By design or accident, m a n y of t h e prints of Destination Tokyo available at t h e height of the Cold War lacked this powerful sequence. As World War 11 came to an end, there were occasional realistic treatments of combat that could almost be called antiwar in approach. The Story of G.I. Joe and They Were Expendable (both 1945) are two notable examples. After the war, Hollywood dutifully followed along as the national myths of the Cold War developed. In the quasi-documentary spy films produced by Louis de Rochemont (The House on 92nd Street, 1945; 13 Rue Madeleine, 1947; Walk East on Beacon, 1952), w e can trace a smooth progression as Commies replaced Nazis as villains, without any alteration of the style or the structure of the films. During the fifties, the Cold War mentality was pervasive. There were cycles of Spy films a n d films glorifying Cold-War institutions like the Strategic Air Comm a n d and the FBI. But more abstractly, we can also discern Cold-War psychology in the popular genre of science fiction during the 1950s. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) is perhaps the prime metaphor for the political paranoia of those years, while Forbidden Planet (1956) provides a more sophisticated approach. In the latter film, the monsters are not insidious, implacable, otherworldly beings against w h o m there is n o defense short of complete mobilization, but rather creatures of our o w n ids, reflections of our o w n elemental fears. Once the characters of Forbidden Planet learn to deal with their o w n subconsciouses, the monsters evaporate. Obviously, the purges and the blacklisting that occurred at the urging of House Un-American Activities Committee in the late forties h a d a deeply disturbing effect. But this in itself is n o t e n o u g h to explain the widespread, nearly u n a n i m o u s ideology exhibited by Hollywood films in t h e 1950s. Filmmakers w e r e seized by the same paranoia that held the rest of the country in its grip. It was as if, having found a spirit of unification and purpose in the w a r against fascism, we desperately desired another e n e m y of equal danger to bring us together. W h e n Cold-War m y t h s disintegrated in t h e sixties, coincidentally, forces for social change were partially liberated. American films reflected these changes as well. In Europe, the effects of World War U on film were, paradoxically, positive. In quiet, m o r e sensible, a n d reasonable propaganda of films like In Which We Serve (Noel Coward, 1943), English filmmakers found a sense of purpose. As the docum e n t a r y t e c h n i q u e s of Grierson a n d his associates w e r e applied to fiction,
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F i l m " : Politics ducers. By 1991 that figure had b e e n reduced to 7 percent. (It should be noted that American market share can vary significantly depending o n the particular films in release in a given year; American market dominance does not necessarily advance inexorably.) At present, the overwhelming dominance of American films in the world marketplace is being challenged from several directions. Some countries have instituted quota systems. In the 1970s, Third World filmmakers worked to counteract Hollywood myths with their own, while a n u m b e r of other filmmakers attempted a m o r e radical approach, questioning the very premise of the Hollywood film: entertainment. This approach, sometimes called dialectical film, involved reconceiving the entertaining consumer commodity as a n intellectual tool, a forum for examination and discussion. This is a view of film that not only admits the relationship b e t w e e n film a n d observer but also hopes to capitalize on it to the viewer's benefit by bringing it out into the open. Like the plays of Bertolt Brecht (see Chapter 1), these films w a n t to involve their observers intellectually as well as emotionally. It is necessary, then, that the viewers participate intellectually in the experience of the film; they must work, in other words. As a result, m a n y people w h o don't understand the dialectical g r o u n d rules are t u r n e d off. Waiting for t h e film to do all t h e w o r k , to envelop t h e m in the expected h e a d y fantasies, t h e y find t h a t dialectic films Jean-Luc Godard's work, for exampleare boring. A l t h o u g h it certainly d o e s n ' t g u a r a n t e e a n increase in m a r k e t share, this approach, w h e n properly understood, offers one of the more exciting possibilities for the future development of film: Ontologically, the power of film to deconstruct traditional values is enhanced and put to use. Mimetically, film becomes not simply a fantastic reflection of reality, but an essay in which w e can work out the patterns of a n e w and better social structure. Inherently, the political relationship between the film and the observer is recognized for w h a t it is and the observer has, for the first time, a chance to interact, to participate directly in the logic of the film.
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Hollywood film is a dreamthrilling, enthralling, but sometimes a political nightmare. Dialectic film can be a conversationoften vital and stimulating.
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REALITY. Leaving
the Factory
enlargement.)
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W h e n w e consider the variety of forces that must conspire to get a film made, all the demanding economic, political, and technological factors (so few of which individual poets, painters, or musicians need consider), it's a w o n d e r that any "art" survives the arduous process of moviemaking. Yet, as film has been a primary channel for the expression of our politics in the twentieth century, so too has it proved the m a i n arena for the expression of our esthetics. Because it's such a public medium, it isintentionally or notabout h o w w e live together. Because it's such a n expansive, encompassing medium, it offers heady and unrivaled opportunities for the expression of esthetic ideas and feelings. One w a y to get a feel for the shape of cinema history is to identify the esthetic dialectic that seems to inform each period of its development. These neat binary oppositions m a y a p p e a r simplistic w h e n applied to such a rich a n d complex m e d i u m of expression, but they offer convenient handles. Out of their personal struggles with these ideas, the most public artists of the century created a rich heritage.
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Figure 4-30. MELI ES'S FANTASY. The Kingdom of the Fairies (1903): the expressive narrative. (MOMA/FSA. Frame enlargement.)
It's impossible, of course, to offer a comprehensive history of film styles a n d filmmakers in a single volume (much less an individual chapter). W h a t follows is just a sketch. The story is very m u c h a m a t t e r of individuals, a n d individual efforts; we've tried to note t h e most significant in t h e pages that follow.
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D. W. Griffith first entered films as a n actor in 1907. During t h e succeeding six years h e directed hundreds of one- a n d two-reelers for Biograph and in the process established a reputation as t h e leading film artist of t h e day. Griffith was particularly effective with actors a n d theatrical devicesespecially lighting. He used closeups, tracks, pans, a n d parallel editing with great aplomb. He made films that were emotionally profoundly affecting, even if they nearly always operated within t h e conventions of Victorian melodrama. He certainly deserves Ms reputation as t h e "father" of t h e feature film. Yet there are a n u m b e r of serious problems with his work. It is not necessary to compare Griffith's work in film with developments in t h e other arts of t h e period: Picasso in painting; Conrad, Joyce, a n d Dreiser in t h e novel; Strindberg, Chekhov, a n d S h a w in t h e theater. That comparison is certainly unfair, since film was still a fragile enterprise that depended veiy m u c h on its popular audience. Yet other filmmakers at about t h e same time w e r e doing fresh a n d interesting work, u n h a m p e r e d by t h e cliches of t h e nineteenth-century theater. A good part of Griffith's reputation as t h e patriarch of film art is due to a kind of esthetic inferiority complex, which marked film history until at least t h e 1960s. Griffith, w h o h a d begun his career in t h e theater, w a n t e d very m u c h to make films that were "respectable." He wanted to liberate film from its lower-class, "bad object" status. Yet m u c h of t h e vitality and power of film lay in just that renegade status. By 1911, Mack Sennett, w h o had begun by acting a n d writing for Griffith, was making his first comedies, which show a sense of freedom a n d a gusto that are also evident in t h e best of Griffith, b u t which h e often seems to be working against. Griffith's art looked backward; Sennett's looked forward, t o w a r d Dada and Surrealism. The problem w i t h Griffith's reputation is twofold: w e don't yet take cinema seriously enough, a n d so w e tend to denigrate slapstick; a n d at t h e same time w e take film too seriously, a n d so w e yearn for t h e respectable father, t h e role that Griffith played so well. Similar attitudes reveal themselves in t h e study of American literature, w h e r e w e tend to overemphasize writers w h o offer a neat parallel with British literature a n d neglect native American work as not quite respectable. W h e n t h e balance is redressed, Griffith's reputation will benefit, since w e will be able to accept t h e faults with t h e successes. We will also understand better w h y his early promise led to t h e grandiose schemes of later years a n d eventually to failure. Central to both Griffith's melodrama a n d Sennett's farce was t h e concept of the chase, still today a d o m i n a n t e l e m e n t of p o p u l a r film. Dating from t h e early * This period is wonderfully documented in Kevin Brownlow's and David Gill's
1995 six-part series Cinema Europe: The Other Hollywood.
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Figure 4-31. THE SENNETT CHASE. The Keystone Kops in riotous action on the streets of old Los Angeles: a ballet of sight gags.
examples of Porter and Hepworth, with antecedents in the conventions of Victorian theater, the chase was the single great element of narrative dramaturgy that film did not share w i t h theater. It brought theater out of the proscenium arch (real or ideal) and into the world, and it became a quintessential model of the battle between protagonist and antagonist that drives all dramatic narrative. W h e n Griffith is at his best, in such films as The Lonedale Operator (1911), The Musketeers of Pig Alley (1912), the closing sequence of Intolerance (1916), or Way Down East (1920), the chase is often the device (real or metaphorical) that allows h i m to free himself from the stasis of Victorian sentiment to discover the p o w e r i n h e r e n t in m e l o d r a m a . Likewise, Sennett's reeling chases t h r o u g h t h e bleak streets of early Los Angeles p r o v i d e s o m e of t h e m o s t i n v e n t i v e c i n e m a t i c m o m e n t s of early film history.
Expressionism
The spectacle, melodrama, and sentiment w e associate with Griffith were the commercial hallmarks of the silent feature, as the successful career of Cecil B. DeMille attests. We can also divine at least the last two elements in the p h e n o m e nal popularity of Mary Pickford's films during the late teens and twenties. (Her husband, Douglas Fairbanks, commanded the first!) But esthetically, it was the Sennett tradition that flowered eloquently during these years.
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of Pig Alley (1912). Lillian Gish as "the girl." of Pig Alley was one of Frame
Famous for its documentary image of New York, The Musketeers Biograph studios on East Fourteenth Street, in September enlargement.)
Griffith's most popular Biograph films. It was shot on location on West Twelfth Street and at the 1912. {MOMA/FSA.
Silent film in the U.S. is primarily a matter of comedy. Charles Chaplin, Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd, Harry Langdon, and Mack Sennett a n d Hal Roach as producers d o m i n a t e the period. The personas i n v e n t e d by Chaplin, Keaton, a n d Lloyd are a m o n g the most memorable and meaningful creations in film history. Sennett h a d built his earliest films around a simple structural idea: there was n o moral to his stories; they were simply collections of gags. The great comic actors of the late teens a n d twenties added a dimension of c o m m e n t a r y that raised t h e slapstick film from the level of mechanical competence to the level of metaphor and meaning. Interestingly, Chaplin reveals nearly as m u c h Victorian sentiment as Griffith but expresses it in contemporary terms. All the silent comedians translated a basically political problemhow can the individual cope w i t h industrial civilization a n d p o w e r politics?into physical terms. Audiences responded, a n d still respond, w i t h visceral understanding. If Lloyd was the most mechanical and abstract of the silent comedians, Chaplin was the most h u m a n and political, but all of t h e m to varying degrees m a d e the connection between mechanics and morality. Probably the quintessential example of the styles a n d concerns of silent comedy is Chaplin's masterpiece Modern Times
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Figure 4 - 3 3 . Zasu Pitts and a bed of gold coins: von Stroheim's Greed (1923).
(MOMA/FSA.)
(although m a d e in 1936 it has n o dialogue, only music), a film about machines and m e n that remains relevant today. Apart from the comic tradition, the most interesting esthetic force operating in American cinema in the twenties was the exploration of the possibilities of film realism. Erich von Stroheim, struggling against the developing commercial trend, managed to complete only a small n u m b e r of films. More often t h a n not, his conceptions were drastically reedited by studios, but he nevertheless had a profound influence o n the course of American cinema. Foolish Wives (1921), Greed (1923), and The Wedding March (1928)all savaged by studio headsnevertheless survive as legends and object lessons on the vital power of realist techniques such as deep focus, complex mise-en-scene, and location shooting. Filmmakers are still exploring the potential of these devices. Stroheim was among the first to recognize that the observer of a film had to be given freedom to operate in concert with the creator. Nor was Stroheim alone during the twenties in exploring the possibilities of the camera as communicator rather than manipulator. Working outside the Hollywood system, Robert Flaherty became the first notable documentarist with such films as Nanook of the North (1922) and Moana (1926). F. W. M u r n a u , w h o had had a successful career in Germany in the early twenties, arrived in America in
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Figure 4 - 3 4 . German Expressionist chiaroscuro: Robert Wiene's Raskolnikow play of light and shade was a major code. (MOMA/FSA.)
(1923). The
1926. Sunrise (1927) and Tabu (1929, 1931, with Flaherty) remain fine examples of h o w theatricality can be fused with realism. To a lesser extent, King Vidor's The Big Parade (1925) a n d The Crowd (1928), as well as t h e later Our Daily Bread (1934), stand as examples of political realism. While in America in the twenties film was rapidly industrializing, in Europe it was a business that was also seen as an art. Filmmakers in general worked more closely with established painters, musicians, and playwrights than the Americans did, not just because they found themselves in the same towns, but also because the n e w m e d i u m appealed to the avant-garde m o v e m e n t that was then establishing itself. In London, the Film Society was founded in 1925 to promote the art of film. In France, Louis Delluc became the first important esthetic theorist of film, and such filmmakers as Abel Gance, J e a n Epstein, G e r m a i n e Dulac, Rene Clair, Luis Bufiuel a n d Salvador Dali, M a n Ray, and Marcel D u c h a m p provided practical examples of film as art while the commercial cinema produced little of value. In Germany, UFA set about consciously raising the esthetic standards of German film. The result was one of the major efflorescences of talent in cinema history: German Expressionism.
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Figure 4-35. Asta Neilsen was Europe's first starlike Mary Pickford, a savvy businesswoman as well as a celebrity. Here she is seen with Conrad Veidt in Der Reigen 1920). (Courtesy Cinegraph Hamburg.) (Richard Oswald,
Writer Carl Mayer, designer/painters H e r m a n n Warm, Walter Rohrig, a n d Walter Reimann played significant roles in the movement, as did directors Robert Wiene (The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, 1919), Fritz Lang (Dr. Mabuse, 1922; Metropolis, 1927), M u r n a u (Nosferatu, 1922; The Last Laugh, 1924), and Paul Leni (Waxworks, 1924, and in Hollywood The Cat and The Canary, 1927). Meanwhile, G. W. Pabst (The Joyless Street, 1925) explored realist alternatives. As fascinating as this period ol film history is, only Lang and M u r n a u proved to be major artists, and only Lang survived to produce any considerable body of work. While German Expressionism had a far greater effect worldwide, interesting, productive traditions were developing in Sweden and Denmark as well during t h e t e e n s a n d early t w e n t i e s . Swedish directors M a u r i t z Stiller a n d Victor Sjostrom shared backgrounds in the theater. From its earliest days t h r o u g h the career of Ingmar Bergman, Swedish him has been closely associated with the theatrical world. Stiller at first specialized in witty comedies (Love and Journalism, 1916; Thomas Graal's Best Film, 1917) before moving on to m o r e literary projects (Go'sta Berling's Saga, 1924) and finally emigrating to Hollywood with his star,
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Figure 4 - 3 6 . Dziga Vertov's Man with a Movie Camera {MOMA/FSA. Frame enlargement.)
Greta Garbo. Sjostrom, an actor, is best k n o w n for his poetic social commentary (The Outlaw and His Wife, 1917; Korkalen, 1921). Danish director Carl Theodor Dreyer's career spanned m o r e than fifty years, although h e directed relatively few films. His Passion de Jeanne d'Arc (1928) has become one of the standard masterpieces of world film, as have Vampyr (1932) and Gertrud (1964). Dreyer's cinema is notable for its transcendental simplicity and fascination with cruelty, humiliation, and suffering. The t w e n t i e s w e r e also t h e great age of Soviet cinema. Lev Kuleshov and Vsevolod M e y e r h o l d h a d established separate but parallel theories that w e r e taken u p and greatly elaborated on by Sergei Eisenstein {Strike, 1924; Potemkin, 1925; October, 1927), V. I. Pudovkin {Mother, 1926; TheEndofSt. Petersburg, 1927), and Alexander Dovzhenko [Arsenal, 1929; Earth, 1930). These films remain major landmarks in the history of cinema, especially Potemkin, probably the clearest example of Eisenstein's influential theories of montage. Eisenstein saw film as a dialectical process, and his technique in Potemkin demonstrates the effectiveness of that approach. Using "types" rather than fully developed characters, h e created a forceful, incessant logic for this story of the 1905 mutiny of the crew of Battleship Potemkin. The Odessa Steps sequence (see Figures 5-1 to 5-4) is one of the most famous examples of his celebrated montage
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Figure
4-37.
Action and composition in Jean Renoir's The Rules of the Game enlargement.)
(1939).
(I'Avant-
Scene. Frame
technique, building both drama and significance purely through the juxtaposition of shots. At the same time, Dziga Vertov was developing his theory of "film-truth" in such films as Kino-Pmvda (1922-25), Kino-Eye (1924), and Man with a Movie Camera (1929). As the Germans had investigated the expressiveness of artificial setting and mise-en-scene, so the Soviet revolutionary filmmakers explored the powerful expressive intelligence of montage. Their theories, among the most important in cinema, will be discussed in the following chapter.
Hollywood:
By the early thirties, American cinema had achieved a position of dominance o n world screens. Between i932 and f946, the history of film is, with two exceptions, the history of Hollywood. The exceptions are the group of directors in France sometimes linked together under the rubric "Poetic Realism," and the beginnings of the British documentary tradition with J o h n Grierson and his group in England. Grierson, w h o made only one film himself, acted as producer, organizer, and herald for the British documentary tradition in the thirties, a m o v e m e n t whose effect on the future development of British cinema was more important than the actual films that issued from it. Although not associated with Grierson, Humphrey Jennings produced possibly the most enduring examples of this genre during the war: Listen to Britain (1942), Fires Were Started (1943), and A
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Figure 4-38. In the early thirties Howard Hawks made the classic gangster film Scarface starred.
for
producer Howard Hughes before moving on to other genres. A n n Dvorak and George Raft
Diary for Timothy (1945) are all documentary personal statements from a former poet and painter. As Alfred Hitchcock dominated British fiction film in the 1930s, so Jean Renoir towered over the French film scene of that decade. Less appreciated t h e n than n o w (when he is regarded as one of the acknowledged masters of world cinema), Renoir created a n e w fusion of modes that combined the humanism of such silent artists as Chaplin with realist technique in an extraordinary series of films: Boudu Saved from Drowning (1932), Toni (1934), The Crime of M. Lange (1935), Grand Illusion (1937), a n d The Rules of the Game (1939). The influence of his h u m a n e , socially sensitive, drolly comic style is still being felt. At the same time in France, a n u m b e r of other strong and very personal styles were developing: Marcel Pagnol directed a series of popular, lyrical, and diffident studies of French provincialism. Rene Clair, whose reputation has suffered with t h e years, directed several a m u s i n g , if lightweight, films. Marcel Carne was responsible for a n u m b e r of highly theatrical witty dramas, culminating in Children of Paradise (1944). Jacques Prevert was his frequent collaborator. Most m e m orable, perhaps, are the two major films made by Jean Vigo before he died at the
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age of t w e n t y - n i n e : Zero for Conduct (1933) and L'Atalante (1934) are fresh a n d direct products of Vigo's clear-eyed, virtuoso cinema. There were few such clearly identifiable personal signatures in Hollywood at the time. Alfred Hitchcock, w h o had matured in England, became the most obvious of the Hollywood auteurs after his arrival in 1940. He dominated the genre of the thriller for half a century. He should have; h e invented it. In a n u m b e r of films m a d e during his first years in America, Hitchcock further refined the basic sense of political paranoia with which he had experimented in England in the 1930s. Foreign Correspondent (1940) was a film of subtle reversals and correspondences that pointed toward the future. Saboteur (1942) was the first of his films to spread the American landscape before us in a coast-to-coast chase. In it he developed some interesting ideas about the relationship b e t w e e n t h e individual and the state in w a r t i m e . Shadow of a Doubt (1943), from a script by the playwright Thornton Wilder, contrasted smallt o w n life with the criminal personality a n d is generally regarded as o n e of the major films of the Hitchcock canon. Spellbound (1945) seems simplistic today but was one of the earliest introductions of Freudian concepts in American film. Notorious (1946) paired Cary Grant a n d Ingrid B e r g m a n in an intensely personal exploration of the effects on a relationship of the paranoia engendered by war.
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Figure 4-40. Joel McCrea as Sullivan the successful director, sets out with Veronica Lake to suffer in Preston Sturges's cutting satire on Hollywood, Sullivan's Travels.
Also during this period: Josef von Sternberg left his mark in a series of visually
elaborate r o m a n c e s (The Blue Angel, Morocco, i 9 3 0 ; Shanghai Express, t 9 3 2 ; The
Scarlet Empress, 1934). Busby Berkeley invented a peculiarly cinematic form of musical (Gold Diggers of1935, f 935; The Gang's All Here, 1943). J o h n Ford made the form of t h e Western sing with n e w resonance (Stagecoach, i939; My Darling Clementine, f 946) a n d extended m a n y of the metaphors of that essentially American genre in other directions in the scores of other films h e directed. Howard Hawks left his imprint on a wide variety of genres, his films always impressive for their wit, good nature, and richness of texture. Among t h e m were
so-called Screwball Comedies (Twentieth Century, 1934; Bringing Up Baby, 1939; His Girl Friday, 1939), dramas (To Have and Have Not, 1944), and Westerns (Red River,
1948; RioBravo, 1959). Hawks's TheBigSleep (1946) is a classic Film Noir detective story, based o n R a y m o n d Chandler's novel a n d starring H u m p h r e y Bogart a n d Lauren Bacall. It is also a near-perfect model of all that is best in t h e Hollywood film. Chandler, Hawks, Bogart, and screenwriters William Faulkner, Leigh Brack ett, a n d Jules F u r t h m a n combined talents to produce a tightly w o v e n fabric of their various concerns a n d styles, ft is significant that t h e film, despite being the
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Figure 4 - 4 1 . G E N R E S : T H E M U S I C A L . At Warner Brothers in the thirties, Busby Berkeley made the elaborately choreographed geometric d a n c e routine famous, but it was not solely his invention. Here a scene from the first Fred Astaire-Ginger Rogers musical, RKO's Flying Down to Rio ( 1 9 3 3 , directed by Thornton Freeland). It combines the vivid star work of the Astaire-Rogers team with the pas de milles made famous in Berkeley's work. The choreographer was Dave Gould. (MOMA/FSA.)
p a r t n e r s h i p s w i t h Charles Brackett ( 1 9 3 8 - 1 9 5 0 ) a n d later I. A. L. D i a m o n d helped h i m to b e c o m e t h e most American of immigrant directors, w i t h a long string of critical and commercial hits. Although h e is famed for his cynicism, his work reveals a deeper, brighter wit in the service of real social wisdom. From the films noirs of the forties (Double Indemnity, i 9 4 4 ; The Lost Weekend, 1945; Sunset Boulevard, 1950) through the romances and comedies of the fifties (Sabrina, i954; The Seven-Year Itch, 1955; Some Like It Hot, 1959) a n d culminating in t h e sixties with The Apartment (1960) and The Fortune Cookie (1966), Wilder was responsible for a n unrivaled n u m b e r of American cultural touchstones. It was this dialectic between auteur and genre that drove the classic Hollywood cinema: the clash between a n artist's sensibility and the defined mythic structures of the popular story types. Probably the most important of these genres was the Western, since it embodied so m a n y of the mythsthe frontier, individualism, the land, and law and order versus anarchyupon which the national psyche of
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Figure 4 - 4 2 . Tim Holt, A n n Baxter, Joseph Gotten, Dolores Costello, a n d Agnes Moorehead with "The Original Morgan Invincible" in Welles's The Magnificent startling film than Citizen Kane (1941), Ambersons Ambersons (1942). A less was no less perceptive about the American
condition a n d i n its c o m m e n t a r y on the effect of the automobile on American society strangely prophetic. In his first two films, Welles investigated the two major factorsthe media and the automobilethat defined twentieth-century American life. (MOMA/FSA.)
His second film, The Magnificent Ambersons ( i 9 4 2 ) , was never released in the version h e h a d prepared, and Welles never again matched his success with Citizen Kane. This u n i o n of the strong auteur a n d strong genre elements was a singular p h e n o m e n o n , as well as the greatest tour de force in film history.
Neorealism
Television was not the only challenger the Hollywood studios faced during the late forties and fifties. Cinemas in other countries were maturing and reorganizing after the paralysis of fascism and the war. The 16 m m equipment perfected for use during the w a r permitted a n alternate system of distribution that grew slowly but steadily, corning of age in the sixties. Film festivals and film societies bloomed, providing effective promotional tools for filmmakers w h o did not have the resources of the Hollywood business combines behind them. Recognizing film as an export commodity, France, for example, built the Cannes festival into the major international marketplace and established the Unifrance promotion organization.
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C/fy(1945).
{MOMA/FSA.
Frame
enlargement.)
ideas rather t h a n entertainmentall these elements w e n t directly counter to the Hollywood esthetic of smooth, seamless professionalism. While Neorealism as a m o v e m e n t lasted only a few years, the effects of its esthetics are still being felt. In fact, Zavattini, Rossellini, De Sica, and Visconti defined a set of ground rules that would operate for the next fifty years. Esthetically, Hollywood never quite recovered. M e a n w h i l e , back at t h e S o u t h e r n California r a n c h e s , business p r o c e e d e d m u c h as usual. There was r o o m in Hollywood neither for the political c o m m e n tary of Neorealism n o r for t h e personal, n o n - g e n r e s t y l e that w a s developing throughout Europe. While there were occasional surprises, such as Frank Capra's It's a Wonderful Life (1947), which was the most interesting of his series of populist sentimental dramas and a crisp, direct lesson in the benefits of cooperative social and economic organizations, the political mood of Hollywood, as w e noted earlier, was reactionary. The most intriguing esthetic result of this dark, paranoiac m o o d was the cycle of Films Noirs of the late forties and early fifties. A vaguely defined genre (as the
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Figure 4 - 4 4 . John Ford's two favorite Western stars: John Wayne a n d M o n u m e n t Valley, as they appeared in one of Ford's most intriguing Westerns, The Searchers (1956). A "revisionist" Western, The Searchers critically examined elements of the Western myth that had hitherto been taken for granted as truths. Wayne's Ethan Edwards is a hero in the contemporary m o l d : lonely and obsessive as well as heroic, neurotically compulsive as well as faithful. T h e underlying text of racism was brought to the surface in The Searchers. Westerns would never be the same afterwards. (MOMA/FSA.)
listically influential series Miami Vice, while Steven Bochco honored the long tradition at t h e same time that h e satirized it in t h e inventive Hill Street Blues. In t h e nineties, Dick Wolf formalized a n d intellectualized it with his analytical homages Law and Order a n d Crime and Punishment, while Bochco took it to n e w television extremes with NYPD Blue. Clearly, Film Noir has b e e n a fertile genre for filmmakers throughout the last half of the twentieth century. Two other popular genres of t h e fifties, t h e Western a n d t h e Science Fiction film, also exhibited t h e downbeat m o o d of Film Noir, each in its o w n way. The Western began to treat m o r e serious a n d m o r e pessimistic themes; t h e Science Fiction film developed a n u m b e r of objective correlatives for the cultural paranoia of the decade. Delmer Daves, o n e of the more underrated of Hollywood craftsmen, directed Broken Arrow in 1950, t h e first Western since silent days to allow Indians some m e a s u r e of self-respect. He w a s also responsible for 3:10 to Yuma (1957). J o h n
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Sturges m a d e a n u m b e r of classic Westerns, including Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957), Last Train from Gun Hill (1958), and The Magnificent Seven (1960). Anthony M a n n developed a cult reputation with such films as Winchester 73 (1950), The Far Country (1954), a n d The Man From Laramie (1955). Two of the first "adult" Westerns w e r e Fred Z i n n e m a n n ' s High Noon (1952) a n d George Stevens's Shane (1953). J o h n Ford weighed in with The Searchers (1956), possibly his best Western, a n d Two Rode Together (1961). Henry King directed The Gunfighter (1950), Henry Hathaway From Hell to Texas (1958). Arthur Perm's first film was The LeftHandedGun (1958). The sixties saw such significant Westerns as Marlon Brando's One-Eyed Jacks ( 1 9 6 f ) , J o h n H u s t o n ' s The Misfits (1961), David Miller's Lonely Are the Brave (1962), and a n u m b e r of films by Sam Peckinpah, notably Ride the High Country (1962) a n d The Wild Bunch (1969). In Italy, meanwhile, the "Spaghetti Western" h a d come of age. Sergio Leone reworked the elements of the genre in films like A Fistful of Dollars (1964) a n d The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly (1967), starring a n American, Clint Eastwood. In t h e seventies, t h e Western fell into decline as a n increasingly urbanized America lost its zest for the wide-open spaces. We can m a r k the beginning of this eclipse with Robert Altman's iconoclastic a n d atmospheric McCabe and Mrs. Miller (1971). The long Western drought, broken only by Terrence Malick's remarkable Days of Heaven (1978), came to a n e n d in the early 1990s w i t h t w o surprising Oscar w i n n e r s , Kevin Costner's Dances with Wolves (1990), a poor movie b u t a great project, a n d Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven (1992). These revisionist homages serve as elegies to the genre.
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Figure 4 - 4 6 . Victor Sjostrom comes to terms with his past in Bergman's Wild
Strawberries
(1958). Sjostrom, one of the fathers of Swedish film, capped his career with this film. It was not by accident that Bergman chose a fellow director to play the central role of Professor Isak Borg, for Wild Strawberries also marked an important stage in Bergman's own struggle with his past.
Science Fiction films of the fifties were telling psychoanalytic documents: paranoid fantasies of moving blobs, invading pods, reified ids, a n d metamorphoses. A m o n g the most important were: The Thing (1951, Christian Nyby), The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951, Robert Wise), Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956, D o n Siegel), Forbidden Planet (1956, Fred Wilcox), The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957, Jack Arnold), The Fly (1958, Kurt N e u m a n n ) , and The TimeMachine (1960, George Pal). The genre was reborn in 1968 with Stanley Kubrick's magnificent 2001: A Space Odyssey, arguably the most influential film of the past forty years, since it gave rise to t h e strongest genre of the 1970s a n d 1980s. F r o m Star Wars to Star Trek, from E.T. to Jurassic Park, the Science Fiction genre has strangely reigned supreme since the late 1970s. The Musical, like the Western, benefited greatly from the technologies of color and widescreen and enjoyed a renaissance during the fifties u n d e r the sponsorship of producer Arthur Freed at MGM. Vincente Minnelli directed An American in Paris (1951) a n d Gigi (1958). Stanley D o n e n w o r k e d with Gene Kelly in On the Town (1949) and Singin' in the Rain (1952) and with Fred Astaire in Royal Wedding
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Figure 4-47.
Like Bergman's films of the period, Federico Fellini's also reflect a basically examines the existential dilemma of a film director, Guido
(Marcello Mastroianni), w h o is not unlike Fellini. The film begins at a spa where the diaphanous, quasi-mythical Claudia Cardinale offers Guido the purifying waters. It is an image of innocence that constantly recurs in Fellini's films... .(I'Avant-Scene. Frame enlargement.)
(1951) and Funny Face (1957, produced by Roger Edens for Paramount). Astaire also starred in R o u b e n M a m o u l i a n ' s Silk Stockings (1957, p r o d u c e d by Freed). M a m o u l i a n h a d b e e n responsible for one of the very first significant Hollywood Musicals, Applause (1929). In just a few films h e left a n indelible m a r k o n t h e genre. His films were characterized by a rare wit and a sophisticated sense of pace. While t h e B r o a d w a y Musical has c o n t i n u e d to thrive t h r o u g h o u t t h e past thirty years, the film Musical has almost entirely disappeared. Martin Scorsese's New York, New York (1977) and Francis Coppola's The Cotton Club (1984) stand as ambitious exceptions. Although Stephen Sondheim continued t h r o u g h the seventies and eighties to produce the best American musical theater this side of Gershwin, few of his plays have b e e n translated to the screen, and n o n e successfully since his first (A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, 1966). Although during t h e past thirty years the Broadway theater has b e e n invigorated by t h e advent a n d continued success of the Black Musical (from Ain't Supposed to Die a Natural Death to Jelly's Last Jam), this inviting n e w strain of t h e art has b e e n ignored by Hollywood. Although more people have seen Les Miserables (or Cats) in theaters t h a n go to most movies, the ersatz English musicals haven't m a d e m o n e y o n t h e screen. W h y ? Well, for o n e thing, Musicals d o n ' t l e n d t h e m s e l v e s to sequels. Despite the continued dominance of genres, a few American directors of the late forties and fifties managed to convey a strong sense of personal style in their films. A m o n g these auteurs w e r e Elia Kazan (Gentleman's Agreement, 1947; Viva
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Figure 4-48.
...La
Dolce Vita (1959) had ended with this image of unreachable innocence. At Frame enlargement.)
the seashore, the journalist Marcello (Mastroianni, again) f o u n d it impossible to c o m m u n i c a t e with this y o u n g w o m a n . (I'Avant-Scene.
Zapata!, 1952; On the Waterfront, 1954; East of Eden, 1955), Otto Preminger [Laura, 1944; The Man with the Golden Arm, 1955; Anatomy of'a Murder, 1959), Nicholas Ray [Johnny Guitar, 1954; Rebel Without a Cause, 1955; Bigger Than Life, 1956) a n d Douglas Sirk (All That Heaven Allows, 1955; Written on the Wind, 1956). Both Ray and Sirk w e r e t a k e n u p as heroes by the generation of younger European filmmakers in the next two decades: Ray by the French in the sixties for his existential bent, Sirk by the Germans in the seventies for his rabid sentimentalism. Despite these interesting currents and eddies in the flow of Hollywood product, American film experienced a slow but steady decline throughout the fifties. Real innovations in cinema were ocmrring elsewhere as the art split into popular and elite factions, the latter served by the growing n u m b e r of "art" houses. World audiences w e r e discovering the Asian cinema for the first time. Japanese cinema h a d a long tradition to draw on, including one of the more interesting styles of silent film in which "reciters" w e r e used to describe and explain the actiona device borrowed from Kabuki theater. Filmmakers outside Japan were u n a w a r e of t h e s e a c c o m p l i s h m e n t s u n t i l t h e success of Akira K u r o s a w a ' s Rashomon at the Venice Film Festival of 1951. Although it was Kurosawa's Samurai films that gained the most attention, h e m a d e m a n y films in m o d e r n settings as well. A m o n g his most important films are Ikiru (1952), Seven Samurai (1954), Throne of Blood (aversion of Macbeth, 1957), and Yojimbo (1961). Kurosawa's success led to t h e export of other Japanese films in t h e 1950s. Kenji Mizoguchi, w h o s e career dated from 1922, directed a n u m b e r of films in the fifties that became classics of the world repertory: The Life of Oharu (1952),
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Figure 4 - 4 9 . Fellini was obsessed with this imagery (and the emotions it represents) throughout the 1950s. In La Strada (1954) and The Nights ofCabiria Strada. (See also Figure 3-57.) {I'Avant-Scene. Frame (1957), he had built whole films around it as it was personified by his wife, Giulietta Masina, here shown as Gelsomina in La enlargement.)
age of t w o profoundly idiosyncratic filmmakers: Ingmar Bergman a n d Federico Fellini. These two, together with Alfred Hitchcock, whose work in the fifties represents the summit of his career, dominated film esthetics in the late fifties and prepared the way for the cinema d'auteur, which became the rule rather than the exception in the sixties. Interestingly, all three deal in o n e w a y or another with the anxiety that also motivated the popular genres of the period and that the poet W. H. A u d e n h a d declared the characteristic emotion of the age. For Bergman, angst was expressed in psychoanalytic a n d religious terms; for Hitchcock, anxiety was a matter of stylized paranoia of everyday life; for Fellini, angoscia was a social problem as m u c h as it was personal. Bergman began making films in the mid-forties, but it wasn't until Smiles of a Summer Night (1955), The Seventh Seal (1957), Wild Strawberries (1958), and The Virgin Spring (1959) that h e gained world r e n o w n . The Seventh Seal was especially effective in this respect. Its symbolism was immediately apprehensible to people trained in literary culture w h o w e r e just beginning to discover the "art" of film, and it quickly became a staple of high school and college literature courses. Based o n Bergman's o w n play, The Seventh Seal starred M a x von Sydow, w h o was to b e c o m e t h e m a i n actor in Bergman's extraordinary repertory c o m p a n y of the 1960s. Antonius Blok, a medieval knight returning from the Crusades, undergoes a series of encounters with death. Sweden is ravaged by the plague. Bach of the real encounterswith a group of strolling players, a witch-burning, flagellating
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Cinema": Esthetics the imaginary role. The film ends with a spectacular chase across the foreheads of the fathers of t h e country at M o u n t R u s h m o r e . As Grant r u n s for his life, the national symbols stare ahead, unblinking a n d unseeing. A pleasant a n d witty thriller directed with consummate skill, North by Northwest, written by Ernest Lehm a n , took o n n e w dimensions of meaning a decade after it was released, w h e n the antagonism between the people of the U.S. and its government came out into the open. This period, in which film as art established its precedence worldwide, came to a notable climax. The year 1959, give or take six months, was an annus mirabilis: an extraordinary conjunction of talents bloomed. In France, Truffaut, Godard, Chabrol, Rohmer, Rivette, and Resnais all made their first filmsthe New Wave was established. In Italy, Fellini took a n e w p a t h w i t h La Dolce Vita, a n d Michelangelo Antonioni with L'Awentura. In England, the Angry Young M e n of the theater were moving into film production. In America, the personal, independent cinema was established as a viable path with the release of John Cassavetes's Shadows.
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The New Wave and the Third World: Entertainment Versus Communication
The N e w Wave in France signaled a n e w attitude toward film. B o m after the development of the sound film, these filmmakers had a sense of film culture and film heritage; the movies they made exhibited that sense. Claude Chabrol, Francois Truffaut, Jean-Luc Godard, Eric Rohmer, and Jacques Rivette had all written for Cahiers du Cinema in the 1950s and been influenced by the theories of Andre Bazin. Louis Malle and Alain Resnais did not begin as critics, but nevertheless exhibited parallel attitudes. Truffaut's early classics, The 400 Blows (1959), Shoot the Piano Player (1961), and Jules and Jim (1962), were the first great popular successes of the group. In each of those three disparate films he displayed a virtuosity, humanity, and depth of feeling t h a t quickly w o n a u d i e n c e s w o r l d w i d e . After t h a t early period Truffaut retreated to more abstract concerns, beginning a series of films that were studies in g e n r e : The Soft Skin (1964), Fahrenheit 451 (1966), a n d Mississippi Mermaid (1969) attempted, as h e put it, "to explode genres by combining them." This was a cinema that came close to insisting that viewers shared with the filmmaker an u n d e r s t a n d i n g of past forms a n d conventions. The story of alter ego Antoine Doinel (played throughout by Jean-Pierre Leaud) that begins with The 400 Blows, continued t h r o u g h four other films over the next t w e n t y years, as Truffaut followed the character to middle age. One of these, Stolen Kisses (1968), remains a romantic icon of the 1960s. In the seventies, Truffaut turned to more introverted genre studies. Two films stand out: The Wild Child (1970), in which he investigates language and love, and Day For Night (1973), his paean to his o w n love and language: cinema.
Figure 4 - 5 0 . The challenge and the grandeur of the wide open spaces of the Western had become a paranoid nightmare by the late 1950s. Here advertising-man-in-the-gray-flannelsuit Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant) runs for his life through desolate midwestern cornfields, chased by a faceless assassin flying a crop-dusteran ecological portent! Thornhill's suit and tie are peculiarly but aptly out of place in the heart of the country in Hitchcock's. North by Northwest. Compare Figure 4 - 4 4 .
Truffaut dieddramatically and arbitrarilyof a brain t u m o r in the American Hospital at Neuilly in 1984. He was only 52. Like his friend Truffaut, Godard also began with a n u m b e r of personal versions of genre films: t h e Gangster film (Breathless, 1960), t h e Musical (A Woman Is a Woman, 1961), two Films Noirs (Le Petit Soldat, I960; My Life to Live, 1962)evena star-filled Hollywood melodrama (Contempt, 1963). His first film, Breathless, was a refreshingly iconoclastic study that immediately marked h i m as one of the most innovative and thoughtful members of the n e w generation of filmmakers. Ignoring the established conventions of narrative, which even such personal filmmakers as Bergman and Fellini more or less observed, Godard operated o n a n u m b e r of levels simultaneously. Breathless was at one and the same time a Gangster story and a n essay about Gangster films. Michel Poiccard, played by Jean-Paul Belmondo, kills a cop, meets u p with an American w o m a n n a m e d Patricia (Jean Seberg), hangs out in Paris for a while, evading the police, and is eventually betrayed by Patricia and shot down. Poiccard is fascinated by the image of Humphrey Bogart as h e knows it from the old Hollyw o o d films. He invents a p s e u d o n y m for himself. He isn't so m u c h a gangster as h e is a young m a n acting out the role of gangster that h e has learned from American films. Patricia, for her part, is compared visually by Godard to a n u m b e r of
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Figure 4 - 5 1 . Antoine Doinel (Jean-Pierre Leaud) and friend escape to the broad boulevard of the Champs-Elysees in Truffaut's poignant The 400 Blows.
artistic images of w o m e n , notably those by Picasso. She is not so m u c h a character, the "moll," as she is a n esthetic image of w o m a n o n the model of the paintings in t h e film. Even t h e d e a t h of Michel w h i c h closes t h e film is played at o n e remove, Michel doing his best to die a heroic death as h e has learned it from the movies, while Patricia persists in her emotional isolation, never quite understanding the potential drama of the plot. As Godard's career progressed, h e t u r n e d m o r e a n d m o r e to the essay form, eventually abandoning fictional narrative altogether. In a n extraordinary series of films in the mid- a n d late sixties, h e established a n approach to filmmaking that has h a d worldwide influence. A Married Woman (1964), Alphaville, Pierrot le Fou (both 1965), Masculine-Feminine, 2 or 3 Things That I Know About Her (both 1966), La Chinoise (1967), and Weekend (1968) explored cinema as personal essay conscientiously and with exhilaration. In these films, Godard set u p a direct communication with the viewer, using the conventions of genre to his o w n ends a n d avoiding t h e distractions of the well-made, absorbing dramatic experience. In the late sixties, Godard w i t h d r e w into a n even more personal, political cinema under the shelter of the "Dziga-Vertov Group" for a series of films that lacked all pretense as finished products and w e r e m e a n t clearly as works in progress. The result of this period of cinematic contemplation was Toutva Men (1972). Godard t h e n turned his attention to video before r e t u r n i n g to theatrical screens w i t h Sauve qui peut la vie in 1980, w h i c h m a r k e d t h e beginning of a series of reprises that included First Name: Carmen
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Figure 4 - 5 2 . Charles Aznavour as Charlie Kohler in Truffaut's Shoot the Piano Player, an essay in genres. Like most of the New Wave, Truffaut was fascinated by American films. Here he c o m b i n e d elements of Film Noir and the Western and Gangster films with a notably French philosophical attitude. The mixture of cultures was exhilarating.
(1983, w o m a n as hero), Detective (f985, the genre film), HailMary (f985, Godard as the enfant terrible again), and New Wave (1990, an essay on cinema). Unlike Truffaut a n d Godard, Claude Chabrol confined his attention to o n e genre. Strongly influenced by Hitchcock, the subject of a study he wrote with Eric Rohmer, Chabrol redefined the Hitchcockian universe in French terms and contributed, beginning in the late sixties, a fine series of parodic thrillers that effectively satirized bourgeois values as they celebrated t h e m . Les Biches (1968), La Femme infidele (1969), Le Boucher (1970), Just Before Nightfall (1971), and Red Wedding (1972) stand out. After a fallow period, Chabrol returned to form in the mideighties with n e w explorations of the genre, including Cop au vin (1985) and Story ofWomen (1988). Eric Rohmer brought to cinema familiarity with a literary culture hundreds of years old. His series of "Moral Tales"including La Collectionneuse (1967), My Night atMaud's (1968), Claire's Knee (1970), and Chloein the Afternoon (1972)demonstrated that m a n y of the literary pleasures of narrative, setting, and reasoned analysis could be derived from film. In the 1980s Rohmer began a n e w series h e called "Comedies and Proverbs," revolving around quirky characters w h o all manage to
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Figure 4 - 5 3 . A m e r i c a n a n d French c u l t u r e meet for the first t i m e in the N e w Wave on the C h a m p s Elysees in Breathless. M i c h e l Poiccard (Jean-Paul B e l m o n d o ) , a devotee of BogYork Herald Tribune newspapergirl Patricia art a n d the Gangster m y t h o s , falls for New it was the t-shirt. (I'Avant-Scene. Frame
Franchini (Jean Seberg), the archetypal A m e r i c a n girl in Paris in t h e early sixties. Maybe enlargement.)
survive and focusing on the w o m e n ' s point of view (Pauline a la plage, 1983; he Rayon vert, 1986). A third series, "Tales of Four Seasons," began in i 9 9 0 with Conte de printemps and ended in 1998 with Conte d'automne. At the end of the century the 79-year-old director was experimenting with DV: a digital screening of his short "Cambrure" at the Cannes Film Festival in May 1999 preceded by several weeks the landmark digital projection of George Lucas's The Phantom Menace. While Rohmer's cinema was influenced by the novel, Jacques Rivette's was informed by stage drama. The last of the Cahiers group to come to prominence, Rivette was obsessed with the structures of dramatic narrative. In L'Amour fou (1968), Out One (1971), and Celine et Julie vont en bateau (1973) h e examined the p h e n o m e n a of d u r a t i o n a n d psychological intensity t h a t s h a p e o u r fictional world. Alain Resnais brought some of the avant-garde complexity of the n e w French novel to cinema. Usually working in close collaboration with novelists (several of whomAlain Robbe-Grillet and Marguerite Duras, for examplelater turned to filmmaking themselves), Resnais explored the function of time and m e m o r y in narrative with stunning effect in such films as Night and Fog (1956, Nazi concentration camps), Hiroshima, mon amour (1959, t h e a t o m i c b o m b ) , Last Year at
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Figure 4-54.
The guests cast shadows, but the trees don't in this epistemological garden from
Resnais's Last Year at Marienbad, a study in memory. Compare 4-49. {Frame enlargement.)
through the seventies and eighties to produce a string of popular hits which gained grudging respect from the critics, most notably S.O.B. (1981), his personal attack o n Hollywood. Generally, however, the sixties were years of transition in American cinema. Esthetically, t h e most interesting developments in t h e U.S. w e r e taking place underground, w h e r e a strong avant-garde tradition was bearing fruit in the films of K e n n e t h Anger, Ron Rice, Bruce Baillie, Robert Breer, Stan Vanderbeek, Stan Brakhage, Gregory M a r k o p o u l o s , Ed Emshwiller, J o n a s a n d Adolfas Mekas, J a m e s a n d J o h n W h i t n e y , J o r d a n Belson, a n d o t h e r s . A b o v e g r o u n d , A n d y Warhol's Factory produced a n u m b e r of "Underground" films that h a d some curious commercial success. Hollywood felt the first thrust of the television esthetic as a n u m b e r of directors trained in television t u r n e d to film. A m o n g t h e most p r o m i n e n t w e r e A r t h u r Penn (Bonnie and Clyde, 1967; Alice's Restaurant, 1969; Night Moves, 1976), Sidney Lumet (The Group, 1966; Dog Day Afternoon, 1975; Network, 1976; Just Tell Me What You Want, 1980), J o h n Frankenheimer (The Manchurian Candidate, 1962), Martin Ritt (Hud, 1963; Sounder, 1972; The Front, 1976; Norma Rae, 1979), and Franklin Schaffner (The Best Man, 1964; Patton, 1969). Of this group, Lumet stands out and continued to produce a varied body of w o r k t h r o u g h the eighties a n d nineties (Prince of the City, 1981; Power, 1986; Q&A, 1990; Night Falls on Manhattan, 1997; Gloria, 1999, a remake of the J o h n Cassavetes film). Perhaps the most influential development in the U.S. was seen not o n movie screens but o n television. The perfection of lightweight, adaptable 16 m m equip-
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Figure 4 - 5 5 . Olga Georges-Picot and Claude Rich on the beach in Alain Resnais's Je t'aime, je t'aime (1968), o n e of Resnais's most vigorous studies in time a n d memory. This scene, repeated many times throughout t h e film in varying versions, is the focal point of Rich's science-fiction odyssey through his past. Resnais uses the fiction of a journey by time machine to experiment with the repetition of scenes and the disjuncture of narrative. The result is as close to music as film gets. {French Film Office.)
m e n t in the late fifties and early sixties made possible a n e w style o f documentary, so different from the traditional, highly "worked," and often semifictional style as to deserve a n e w n a m e : Direct Cinema. Filmmakers b e c a m e reporters, w i t h nearly as m u c h freedom as print journalists, and television was the place to view their work. Robert Drew headed a group, Drew Associates, that produced a n u m ber of important films for television. Working with h i m were Richard Leacock and Donn Pennebaker, as well as Albert and David Maysles, all to become major figures in the movement. Primary (1960) was the first major result of Direct Cinema techniques. Pennebaker's Don't Look Back (i 966) was a portrait of Bob Dylan. The Maysles brothers adapted t h e techniques to theatrical release in a series of films they called "nonfiction features," most notably Salesman (1969), Gimme Shelter (1970, about a Rolling Stones concert), a n d Grey Gardens (1975). Thirty years later both Pennebaker and Albert Maysles were still going strong. (David Maysles died in 1987.) Pennebaker found n e w audiences with The War Room (1992), a n inside look at the Clinton presidential campaign, and Moon Over Broadway (1997), about t h e making of a musical. Maysles scored with Christo in
Paris (1991), his profile of t h e artist, a n d Concert of Wills: Making the Getty Center
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Figure 4-56. Audrey H e p b u r n as Holly Golightly parties in Blake Edwards's romantic classic of the early sixties, Breakfast at Tiffany's. As a romantic icon of the fifties and sixties, Hepburn's only peer was Shirley MacLaine.
(f998), a revealing portrait of the architects and bureaucrats responsible for the gargantuan n e w m u s e u m in Los Angeles. The principal theory of Direct Cinema was that the filmmakers not involve themselves in the action. Gone were the well-phrased narrations of earlier documentaries. The camera was all-seeing: hundreds of hours of film were shot to capture a sense of the reality of the subject. Frederick Wiseman, trained as a lawyer, brought this technique to perfection in a well-received series of studies of institutions for public television, among t h e m Titicut Follies (1967, a b o u t a m e n t a l institution), High School (1968), Hospital (1970), Primate (1974), and Meat (1976). In France during the sixties, a parallel style of n e w documentary was developing. Called "cinema verite," it differed from Direct Cinema in that it admitted that the presence of the camera m a d e a difference and indeed traded on that fact. Chronique d'un ete (1960), by anthropologist Jean Rouch and sociologist Edgar Morin, was the first and still classic example of cinema verite. Because cinema verite and Direct Cinema both measurably expand the boundaries of the permissible in film, they have had a profound effect out of all proportion to the n u m b e r of films actually identified as being in those styles. The traditional Musical, for example, has been superseded by the filmed concert, which in its turn has become a dramatic event. More important, our sense of what is "correct" in narrative has been drastically altered as the profusion of non-
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Figure 4 - 5 7 . Frederick Wiseman's Welfare (1975). Wiseman's films c o m b i n e the insistent, relentless shooting techniques of Direct Cinema with a lawyer's sense of social structures in order to investigate the inner workings of significant contemporary institutions. Films.) (Zipporah
(1966), about the effects of atomic war, was considered too convincing to be broadcast on the BBC. Kevin B r o w n l o w and A n d r e w Mollo's It Happened Here (1963) documented an equally fictitious historical event: the German occupation of Britain during the Second World War. More interesting in England during the sixties was the work of several American exiles. Joseph Losey, blacklisted in Hollywood, directed a n u m b e r of mediocre films, but those written by Harold PinterThe Servant (1963), Accident (1967), and The Go-Between (1971)managed to capture the playwright's droll, warped view of bourgeois society. Stanley Kubrick had made several interesting minor films in the U.S. before he settled in England. Dr. Strangelove (1963) remains a superb satire of the Cold-War mentality; its significance increases with each passing year. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) is a masterful blending of cinematography with scientific and religious theory. It set the style for decades of popular and remunerative Science Fiction. A Clockwork Orange (1971), a striking s y m p h o n y of violence, remains perhaps the most prescient film about the future that w e n o w inhabit. Barry Lyndon (1975) was not only a superbly accurate evocation of time and place (eighteenth-century Europe), but also a d v e n t u r o u s in narrative style: a very expensive commercial
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(1967).
ular w h e n it was released, Petulia is now generally regarded as one of the landmark films about America in the sixties. Returning from fifteen years in Europe, Lester was able to see us as we could not see ourselves, a n d the jaundiced vision of the hip society he projected held more truth than the counterculture myths of the time.
proposition, it nevertheless eschews all t h e Hollywood rules of pace. The Shining (f 980) was Kubrick's attempt to succeed at a highly profitable, if ethically suspect, genre, while Full Metal Jacket (1987) brought h i m back to t h e subject of war. He had just finished Eyes Wide Shut, a study in sexual obsessiona subject he hadn't treated since Lolita (1962)when h e died suddenly in March 1999. Richard Lester began his career directing television in Philadelphia, moved to London in t h e mid-fifties, and became involved with Peter Sellers and the Goon Show people. He first gained attention as a director with The Beatles films (A Hard Day's Night, 1964; Help!, 1965) a n d was castigated by m a n y critics thereafter for his supposedly frenetic editing style. Little did they k n o w h e would turn out to be the most stylistically influential director since Welles, as any glance at MTV in any of the scores of countries in which it airs will attest.
Lester's A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1965) remains o n e of
the best film adaptations of stage musicals. Petulia (1967), shot in San Francisco, was as prescient as it was sharply ironicone of t h e t w o or three best American films of t h e period. How I Won the War (1967) a n d The Bed-Sitting Room (1968) are among t h e few English-language films to employ Brechtian techniques successfully. These latter t w o films were commercially unsuccessful. Lester was inactive
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for m o r e t h a n five years, finally returning to t h e cinema with less ambitious, commercially safer projects such as The Three Musketeers (f 973), Juggernaut (1974), Robin and Marian (f 978), and Superman II and III (1980, 1983). W h e n sources of funding dried up in the late sixties, British filmmakers had t w o choices: to leave the country, or to t u r n to television. Directors like J o h n Boorman and Peter Yates came to the U.S., w h e r e they established themselves as effective craftsmen. Ken Loach (Poor Cow, f967; Kes, 1969; Family Life, 1972) had always considered television as i m p o r t a n t as cinema. His films d e m o n s t r a t e sophisticated refinements of realist techniques, as do his television efforts (notably the series Days of Hope, i976). Maurice Hatton, like Loach, chose to stick close to his English roots. His first feature, Praise Marx and Pass the Ammunition (i 968), is o n e of the rare films that combine politics with h u m o r successfully. Hatton's Long Shot (1979) applied the same mordant wit to the moribund British film industry. A film about the difficulties of remaining a filmmaker in Britain in the late 1970s, Long Shot was m a d e entirely independentlya remarkable economic as well as artistic achievement. After American Roulette (1988) Hatton found it ever more difficult to produce independently in Britain. He was at work o n a long-planned documentary w h e n he died suddenly in 1997. Ken Russell and Nicolas Roeg were among the few British filmmakers to survive the w i t h d r a w a l of American capital in the late sixties. Russell, w h o first gained attention with a series of unusual biographies of musicians done for the
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T H E S H A P E OF FILM H I S T O R Y BBC, continued in feature films to specialize in cinematic biography, although his approach b e c a m e progressively m o r e eccentric (The Music Lovers, 1970; Mahler, 1974). His lurid, pop art, comic strip style was probably shown to best advantage in Tommy (1975). Roeg, a former cinematographer, produced several films that are stunningly photographed although less interesting in other respects (Walkabout, 1971; Don't Look Now, 1973; The Man Who Fell to Earth, 1976).
During the late 1970s, a n e w generation of British filmmakersmost of t h e m trained in television commercialsfound commercial success in the international market. After Bugsy Malone (1976), a n u n u s u a l and ingratiating musical about children, for children, but also for adults, Alan Parker filmed Midnight Express (1978), far m o r e lucrative, and as exploitative as his earlier film had been charming. He achieved some success in the U.S. with Fame (1980), the very model of t h e m o d e r n musical, and Mississippi Burning (1988). The Commitments (1991), about a fictitious Irish rock group, further extended Parker's claim to be the Vincente Minnelli of m o d e r n times. Similarly, Ridley Scott tested the waters with the romantic The Duellists (1977), t h e n delivered t h e highly m a n i p u l a t i v e (and profitable) Alien ( 1 9 7 9 ) . Scott achieved cult status with Blade Runner (1982), everyone's favorite Science Fiction Film Noir, and Thelma & Louise (1991), the women's road movie for the nineties. For a while in the early 1980s, the remarkable success of Goldcrest Films (Gandhi, i982; Local Hero, 1983; The Killing Fields, 1984) suggested that there might be a future for t h e British film industry, but the h o p e proved illusory as Goldcrest self-destructed in 1987 d u e to a combination of m i s m a n a g e m e n t and underfinancing. In Italy, Fellini and Antonioni, two influential masters, held sway throughout the sixties. Fellini completed several major films, including 8 1/2 (1962), Juliet of the Spirits (1965), and Fellini Satyricon (1969), before turning his attention to television, where h e produced a series of semiautobiographical essays that eventually culminated in the theatrical films Roma (1972) and Amarcord (1973). In the eighties, Fellini sailed pleasantly into old age with And the Ship Sails On (1983), Ginger & Fred (1984), and Intervista (1987), having given the world a panoply of celebrations of the life force that are as invigorating as they are audacious. He died in 1993, the same year that Cinecitta closed. Antonioni came into his o w n with L'Awentura (1960), the first film of a trilogy that included La Notte (1961) and L'Eclisse (1962), which redefined basic concepts of film narrative. Red Desert (1964) and Blow- Up (1966) continued his experiments with narration and perception in an existential setting. Zabriskie Point (1970) was his essay o n t h e America of the 1960s. The Passenger (1975) was the epitome of Antonioni's very special cinema, a film redolent of existential angst, constructed in long, periodic, hypnotic rhythms.
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Figure 4 - 6 0 . Harrison Ford in the futuristic Film Noir, Blade Runner, w h i c h set a downbeat style for the eighties.
Luchino Visconti's latter films (The Damned, 1970; Death in Venice, 1971; Conversation Piece, 1975) were as languorously decadent as his earlier Neorealistic films had been alert and pointed. "The Job" (from Boccaccio 70, f 962; see Figure 2-45) and The Leopard (1963) were more successful if less remarkable. Pietro Germi, w h o h a d b e e n o n e of t h e leading directors of t h e Neorealist m o v e m e n t (In the Name of the Law, 1949), but w h o had never had m u c h success outside of ftaly, established an international comic style for the sixties with two assured comedies of m a n n e r s , Divorce Italian Style (1961) and Seduced and Abandoned (1963). Pier Paolo Pasolini, poet and theorist, turned to film in t h e sixties and completed Accattone (1961), The Gospel According to St. Matthew (1964), The Hawks and the Sparrows (1966), and a n u m b e r of other symbolic exercises before his death in 1976. Francesco Rosi, o n e of the most underrated of m o d e r n ftalian directors, directed a n u m b e r of intriguing political films, including Salvatore Giuliano (1962), Le Mani Sulla Cittd (1963), The Mattel Affair (1972), Lucky Luciano (1973), and Christ Stopped at Eboli (1979). Of the next generation of Italian filmmakers, Bernardo Bettolucci was the first to attract attention with Before the Revolution (1964), The Conformist (1970), and Last Tango in Paris (1972). Bertolucci quickly fell into a Visconti-like fascination
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Figure 4 - 6 1 . Vanessa Redgrave, David Hemmings. A typical, highly designed shot from Antonioni's Blow-Up (1966). The plot of the film concerned the mystery of images. (MOMA/FSA.)
with the shapes and surfaces of bourgeois decadence, which h e ostensibly criticized. Last Tango in Paris achieved a certain international reputation for its clever combination of star (Marlon Brando) and frank sex. It marked a turning point in sexual mores. In his five-hour epic 1900 (1976) Bertolucci seemed to return to his earlier epic social vision. Luna (1979), whose subject was incest, follows the Tango line, but Bertolucci returned to the epic form in The Last Emperor (1987), which w a s a m a j o r i n t e r n a t i o n a l success. The Sheltering Sky (1990) w a s also w e l l regarded. Marco Bellocchio, w h o shared Bertolucci's spotlight in the 1960s, received far less international attention with his ideological satiresFists in the Pocket (1965), China Is Near (1967), In the Name of the Father (1971), and Slap the Monster on Page One (1973). In the seventies, Lina Wertmiiller took center stage for a brief m o m e n t with a series of sardonic sex comedies flavored with a suspicion of politics, including Love and Anarchy (1972), The Seduction ofMimi (1973), Swept Away (1974), a n d Seven Beauties (1975). While directorial stars such as these rose with regularity on the Italian horizon, there were a n u m b e r of less spectacular directors whose work never received its
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Figure 4 - 6 2 . In the seventies and eighties Bernardo Bertolucci ventured outside of Italy to create "world-films" like The Last Emperor, gorgeously photographed and epic in scope.
international due. Most of their films had strong social implications; the political melodrama pioneered by Rosi and Costa-Gavras has been most successful in ftaly. Some of the directors in this group were: Mario Monicelli (The Organizer, i963), Giuliano Montaldo (Sacco and Vanzetti, f 97 f), Elio Petri (Investigation of a Citizen above Suspicion, 1970; The Working Class Goes to Heaven, f 97 f), Gillo Pontecorvo (The Battle of Algiers, 1965; Burn, 1968), Gianni Amico (Tropici, 1968; Ritorno, 1973), Nelo Risi (Diary of a Schizophrenic Girl, 1969), and E r m a n n o Olmi (// Posto, 1961; Un Certo Giorno, 1969; Durante Testate, 1971). Olmi's The Tree of the Wooden Clogs (1978), a deeply felt, mesmeric three-hour evocation of peasant life at the turn of the century, is one of the more outstanding films from Italy during the past twenty-five years. Like 1900 a n d t h e Taviani brothers' Padre, Padrone (1976), The Tree of the Wooden Clogs is representative of a newly rediscovered Italian fascination with peasant habits and rhythms. Fellini's Amarcord and Rosi's Christ Stopped at Eboli should also be included in this interesting genre. In Sweden, Ingmar Bergman completed a regularly spaced string of films, working with w h a t a m o u n t e d to a repertory group of actors and technicians. From this period dates his finest cinema: Through a Glass Darkly, Winter Light, and The Silence
330
Figure 4-63.
Ermanno Olmi's The Tree of the Wooden Clogs, filmed with a kind of anthropo-
form the trilogy in which Bergman exorcised God from his consciousness ( 1 9 6 1 63). Persona (1966) remains possibly his most imaginative and daring film. The series of films with Liv Ullmann and Max von Sydow (Hour of the Wolf, 1967; Shame, 1968; The Passion of Anna, 1969) forms one of the more striking accomplishments in the cinema of the sixties. In the seventies, Bergman withdrew to firmer ground. His television series Scenes from a Marriage (1973), however, compared with his best work. In 1976, after a Kafkaesque encounter with tax authorities, h e left Sweden to try his luck elsewhere, returning for the elegiac Fanny and Alexander (1982). Younger Swedish directors found an international audience in the sixties, as well. Jorn D o n n e r (To Love, 1964), Bo Widerberg (Elvira Madigan, 1967), Vilgot Sjoman (I Am Curious-Yellow, 1967), and most notably Jan Troell, whose trilogy of emigration and resettlementThe Emigrants, The New Land (both 1970), a n d Zandy's Bride (1974)brought a n e w freshness of vision and historical perspective to a classic theme. In Eastern Europe, the state film schools nurtured a n e w wave of talent in the sixties: in Poland, Roman Polanski (Knife in the Water, 1962), w h o left to become an international director of facile, often empty, vaguely supernatural Thrillers; Jerzy Skolimowski (Walkover, 1965; Barrier, 1966; and in London, Deep End, 1970); and Krzysztof Zanussi, whose quiet, searching studies of scientists and engineers (Behind the Wall, 1971; Illumination, 1973) are unique in world cinema.
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Figure 4 - 6 4 . Liv U l l m a n n , Max von Sydow, and money in Jan Troell's The New Land 1973).
{released
In Hungary, Miklos Jancso earned a reputation as one of the foremost Structural filmmakers, intent on the relationship between camera and subject rather t h a n the subject itself (The Red and the White, i 9 6 7 ; Winter Wind, 1969; Electreia, 1974). Marta Meszaros gained an international festival following with a n u m b e r of precisely realized essays, mainly on the roles of w o m e n , including Nine Months (1976), Women (1977), and The Heritage (1980). Perhaps the most significant development in Eastern Europe was the Czech Renaissance which flowered unexpectedly for a few brief years in the middle sixties. Milos Forman (Loves of a Blonde, 1965; The Fireman's Ball, 1967), Ivan Passer (Intimate Lighting, 1966), Jiri M e n z e l (Closely Watched Trains, 1966), a n d Vera Chytilova (Daisies, 1969) evolved a vivid humanist realism, invested with h u m o r and respect for their subjects, which was cut horribly short by the Soviet invasion of the c o u n t r y in 1968 a n d t h e s u b s e q u e n t r e t u r n to Stalinism. F o r m a n a n d Passer moved to the United States, where they did interesting work, but never on the level of their earliest films, although Forman had some notable popular successes. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975) w o n all five top Academy awards. (The same year, Forman was appointed co-director of the Columbia University film program.) His Hair (1979) was a notable modern musical, and Ragtime (1981)
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Figure 4-65. The finish line, a moral as well as physical goal, in Chariots of Fire. ( H u g h H u d son,1981). David Puttnam's production heralded a minor renaissance in British film.
a respectful mounting of the Doctorow novel. He scored multiple Oscars again in 1984 with Amadeus. As for the Soviet Union, the strict state control of the art instituted during the earliest days of the Stalinist period stiffed w h a t was once one of the world's leading cinemas. In the days before glasnost, only a few films escaped. Sergei Paradzhanov, Armenian by birth, gained international acclaim with Shadows of Our Forgotten Ancestors (1964) a n d Sayat Nova (1969). W h e n h e joined t h e growing civil rights m o v e m e n t , h e was imprisoned and sent to a labor camp, ostensibly for homosexuality, in January 1974. The sentence resulted in an international cause celebre. After the end of the Brezhnev regime, Paradzhanov was able to complete several additional celebrations of Georgian a n d A r m e n i a n folklore before his death in 1990. Andrei Tarkovsky became k n o w n in the West w h e n his lyrical My Name Is Ivan (1962) w o n a n a w a r d at t h e Venice Film Festival. His allegorical Andrei Roublev (1966) was also well received in t h e West, to w h i c h Tarkovsky eventually immigrated and where he died in 1986. Dusan Makavejev, the best-known Yugoslav filmmaker (Love Affair, or the Case of the Missing Switchboard Operator, 1967), r a n into censorship problems as well because h e mixed politics with sex in an intriguing but officially unacceptable way. WR: Mysteries of the Organism (1971) was banned in Yugoslavia. The 1960s and 1970s saw the extension of film culture beyond the boundaries of the U.S., Japan, and Europe into the developing countries collectively k n o w n as the Third World. Often rough and angry, Third World cinema was also sometimes
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Figure 4 - 6 6 . A series of surrealistic blackout sketches, Buhuel's The Discreet Bourgeoisie rassment as the guests are machine-gunned.
Charm of the
(1972) is droll, good-natured satire. Here, a dinner party ends in discreet embar-
vital and relevant. Like the nonfiction filmmakers of the West, Third World cineastes generally saw film as a powerful m e d i u m of communication, a medium they employed with passion. The most productive Third World m o v e m e n t of t h e time was the Brazilian Cinema Novo, which got u n d e r way in the early sixties and, although slowed by the right-wing military j u n t a that took p o w e r in 1964, nevertheless survived, partly because of the symbolic stylization most of the films employed. Glauber Rocha (Barravento, 196f; Antonio das Mortes, f969) was the most visible of the group. Other important directors included: Ruy Guerra (Os Fuzis, 1964), Nelson Pereira dos Santos (How Tasty Was My Little Frenchman, 1971), Joaquim Pedro de Andrade (Macunaima, 1969), and Carlos Diegues (Os Herdeiros, 1971), all of w h o m share to some degree Rocha's commitment to political allegory. Mexico, like Brazil, produces more than fifty features per year. For m a n y years Mexican cinema was dominated by the imposing figure of Luis Bunuel. Bunuel, w h o had m a d e two important surrealist films with Salvador Dali in Paris in the late twenties (Un Chien Andalou, 1928; L'Age d'or, 1930), spent the next twenty years o n the fringe of the film industry before finding a h o m e in Mexico in the
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In the early 1970s, the n e w Chilean cinema made a brief but welcome impact o n world screens before it was cut short by the military putsch of 1973. Four films of special interest w e r e produced during the Allende years: Valparaiso, Mi amor (1970) and Praying Is Not Enough (1972), directed by Aldo Francia, and The Jackal ofNahueltoro (1969) a n d The Promised Land (1973), directed by Miguel Littin. Committed, passionate, direct, expressive, a n d lyrical, Chilean cinema w o u l d have b e e n rewarding had it survived. Of special interest was the three-part docum e n t a r y The Battle of Chile, produced outside the country after the coup, mainly from footage shot before. In Cuba, the Cuban Institute of Cinematic Art and Industry (ICAIC) n u r t u r e d a n active a n d interesting c i n e m a t h r o u g h o u t t h e 1960s a n d 1970s. Several a d m i r e d films available outside Cuba included Memories of Underdevelopment (Tomas Gutierrez Alea, 1968), a New Wave-like exploration of the psychological condition of Cuban intellectuals at the time of the revolution; Lucia (Humberto Solas, 1969), a widely praised three-part study of Cuban w o m a n h o o d ; and First Charge of the Machete (Manuel Octavio Gomez, 1969), a stylized depiction of the uprising of 1868. Other Latin American countries contributed to the repertory of Third World classics o n a m o r e limited scale. Notable w e r e Blood of the Condor (Bolivia, Jorge Sanjines, 1969) a n d The Hour of the Furnaces (Argentina, F e r n a n d o Solanas a n d Octavio Getino, 1968). English-language Canadian cinema has always suffered from the proximity of the United States. It wasn't until 1974 that a native English-language Canadian feature (Ted Kotcheff's The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz) was able to gross enough in Canadian theaters to pay its o w n way. French-language cinema, however, enjoyed some success in the sixties and early seventies. Claude Jutra's A Tout Prendre (1963) was a landmark film, as was his Mon Oncle Antoine (1971), one of the first Quebecois films to enjoy some popularity outside Canada. A few English-language Canadian films also escaped the long border, most notably frvin Kershner's The Luck of Ginger Coffey (1964); Paul Almond's Act of the Heart (1970);
"Cinema": Esthetics Don Owen's Nobody Waved Goodbye (1964); Allan King's Warrendale (1967) and A Married Couple (1969), t w o influential documentaries; and Donald Shebib's Goin' Down the Road (1970). The avant-garde filmmaker Michael Snow, w h o has often worked in the U.S., is one of the best k n o w n Canadian filmmakers. His most important films are Wavelength (1967), <-> (also called Back and Forth, 1969), and La Region Centrale (1970)this last shot in northern Quebec. (See Figures 3-66 and 3-67.) The business (although not necessarily the art) of Canadian film experienced explosive growth starting in 1978 a n d 1979 w h e n tax laws m a d e it profitable to invest in Canadian productions. By selling public subscriptions in the stock of the film (much as if the movie w e r e a n e w manufacturing venture), Canadian producers pioneered a form of financing w h i c h became standard operating procedure in the 1980s. Most of the films produced u n d e r this system w e r e unexceptionable internationalist grist, b u t a few, like Darryl Duke's Silent Partner (1979) attracted critical attention as well, a n d the tax breaks that were granted to investors w h o lost m o n e y o n Canadian productions at least resulted in a large n u m b e r of Canadian actors and technicians being able to work at homefor a while. While Toronto a n d Vancouver became established as hospitable production centers during this period, they quickly became extensions of Hollywood. Meanwhile, Canadian filmmakersproducers, directors, actorsmoved in large n u m bers to Los Angeles, w h e r e t h e y found considerable success. Perhaps the most notable emigre has b e e n Ivan Reitman (Animal House, 1978; Twins, 1988; Dave, 1993), w h o s e Ghostbusters (1984) became a n icon of 1980s culture a r o u n d t h e world. Australian cinema came of age in the late 1970s. Although there was an honorable tradition of Australian film, productions seldom m a d e the ocean crossing (even if, occasionally, Americans and Europeans journeyed to Australia to exploit its natural wonders). An active government program instituted in the mid-seventies, however, soon resulted in a n u m b e r of interesting Australian talents coming to international attention at festivals, t h e n in commercial distribution. The most commercial of the n e w group was Peter Weir, whose apocalyptic fantasies, The Last Wave (1978) and Picnic at Hanging Rock (1977), provided fashionable metaphors for the peculiar, stereotyped psychology that non-Australian audiences like to think characterizes the edge of the world. Phillip Noyce's Newsfront (1977) was a n unusual film, part documentary, part fiction, that described the lives of newsreel cameramen during the forties and fifties. Fred Schepisi's The Chant ofJimmie Blacksmith (1978); Gillian Armstrong's My Brilliant Career (1978), based o n an autobiographical novel about a young woman's fantasies of civilized success while growing u p in the wild outback at the t u r n of the century; and Bruce Beresford's Breaker Morant (1980), about a n incident in the Boer War, all led to international careers. All n o w work part-time in the States. Weir directed Witness (1985) and Dead Poets Society (1989), as well as the remarkable The Truman Show (1998). It
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Figure 4-67. Judy Davis and Sam Neill in Gillian Armstrong's My Brilliant Career, one of the new wave of Australian films to gamer worldwide attention in the late seventies.
amounts to an interesting body of work. Noyce was responsible for Patriot Games (1992) and Sliver (1993). Schepisi shot Plenty (1985), Roxanne (1987), and Six Degrees of Separation (1993). Armstrong is best k n o w n for Mrs. Soffel (1984), and Beresford for Tender Mercies (1982) and Driving Miss Daisy (1989). The African cinema has so far produced at least one filmmaker of international standing, Ousmane Sembene, whose films were regularly seen in Europe and the U.S. Among the most important were Black Girl (1965), Mandabi (1970), and Xala (1974). Senegalese, Sembene was a novelist as well as a filmmaker. Film industries of considerable size exist in Algeria, Egypt, Nigeria, and Tunisia. Countdown at Kusini (1976), directed by Ossie Davis, was the first Black American-Nigerian coproduction. Japanese cinema continued to expand its international influence during the sixties and seventies. Kurosawa completed High and Low in 1963, Red Beard in 1965, Dodes 'Kaden in 1970, and Dersu Uzala in 1975. Among the more interesting y o u n g e r directors of the sixties a n d seventies was Hiroshi Teshigahara, w h o s e Woman in the Dunes (1964) quickly became a classic of allegorical cinema and whose Summer Soldiers (1971) was a unique cross-cultural attempt at treating the subject of American deserters from Vietnam residing in Japan. Nagisa Oshima may have been the first Japanese filmmaker to have made a complete break with the past. He was certainly one of the most important of the n e w generation. His films include Diary of a Shinjuku Burglar (1968), Boy (1969), and The Ceremony
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Figure 4 - 6 8 . Ousmane Sembene's Xala (1974), from the director's own novel, satirizes and criticizes the growth of a pompous, venal governmental bourgeoisie in emerging African nations. It created a furor w h e n it was released in Senegal. (New Yorker Films.)
(1971). His international fame, however, is based on his 1977 succes de scandale, the sexually exploitative In the Realm of the Senses. Southeast Asian cinema blossomed in the sixties and seventies. Filipino blood epics were regularly exported to the U.S. and Europe. Hong Kong cinema gave us the Martial Arts genre, an enormously successful type of film worldwide since the late sixties and seventies. King Hu {Dragon Gate Inn, 1966; A Touch of Zen, 1969, 1975; The Fate of Lee Khan, 1970) made a personal mark. The New Wave had a practical as well as esthetic effect on French cinema. Godard, Truffaut, Chabrol, and the others had demonstrated that it was possible to make films inexpensively, whether directed toward a commercial audience or toward a minority audience. The spread of cinema into countries that previously could never have afforded the capital expense is one salient result of the n e w economy of film. Another, perhaps even more telling, is the vigorous eclecticism that sprang u p in French cinema in the 1970s. During this period, French film rediscovered a sense of social values that had been lacking since World War II. Marcel Ophuls's extraordinary historical document, the 4 1/2-hour The Sorrow and the Pity (1971), was a landmark of this n e w awareness. Documenting with panache and intelligence the true nature of French collaboration with their Nazi occupiers during World War II, it had a deep effect on French sensibilities. One of
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actors whose careers began in the early days of the New Wave, Bernadette Latent and JeanPierre Leaud, in a rigorous, d e m a n d i n g , witty psychodrama. {New Yorker
the results was a whole cycle of Occupation films during the early seventies, the most interesting of which were Malle's Lacombe, Lucien and Michel Mitrani's Les Guichets du Louvre (1974). Ophuls's Memory of Justice (1976), a n investigation into the Nuremberg trials following World War II, was a n equally subtle film essay. Jean Eustache's The Mother and the Whore (1973) marked the end of the New Wave, esthetically. Eustache was able, during 3 1/2 hours of intense cinema, to capture, examine, and parody not only m a n y of the conventions of the n o w old N e w Wave, but also that particular atmosphere that surrounds and sometimes suffocates French intellectuals. Maurice Pialat, middle-aged w h e n h e m a d e his first film, L'Enfance nue {Me, 1968), became one of the more innovative directors working in commercial cinema. La Gueule ouverte (1975), Nous ne vieillirons pas ensemble (1972), and ^4 nos amours (1983) were absorbing studies of the way w e live n o w . Nelly Kaplan's A Very Curious Girl (1969) was also of interest in this respect. Jean-Louis Bertucelli directed several of the more interesting "new realist" films. Ramparts of Clay (1970), Paulina 1880 (1972), and Mistaken Love Story (1974) dealt with a variety of political situations (respectively, Algeria at the point of independence, n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y feminism, and c o n t e m p o r a r y sexual politics) with
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Figure
4-70.
(1972)
becomes a c o n -
crete representation of the structure of a factory organization. The poster declares: "It's right to lock up the bosses, U N L I M I T E D S T R I K E . " Tout va i>/en was the practical result of Godard's five-year period of experimentation with film form with his "Dziga-Vertov Group." {New Yorker Films. Frame enlargement.)
unusual intelligence. Pascal Aubier, in Valparaiso, Valparaiso (1971) and Le Chant du depart (1975), extended allegorical techniques to political subjects. At the same time, several filmmakers returned to more traditional, humanistic portraits. Pascal Thomas (LesZozos, 1973; Don't Cry with Your Mouth Full, 1974) and Claudine Guilmain
(Veronique, ou I'etede mes treize ans, 1975) were among the more promising. Soon after this flurry of activity, French cinema settled down to do what it does best: middle-class romance. Jean-Charles Tacchella's Cousin, cousine (t975) was released in the U.S. two years later and broke the foreign-film box-office record of A Man and a Woman, a record that had stood for more than ten years. This extraordinary performance was exceeded in 1979 by Edouard Molinaro's La Cage aux folks, a n amusing if small story about a homosexual menage. B e r t r a n d Tavernier also garnered some international success w i t h a quick series of well-mounted melodramas in the late seventies. Tavernier's first successful export was released in 1975 as The Clockmaker. The screenwriters for that film were t w o m e n named Jean Aurenche and Pierre Bostprecisely the two w h o m , twenty years earlier, Francois Truffaut had castigated in his famous essay on the cinema du papa. The irony w a s lost on t h e n e w generation of filmgoers w h o
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341
Figure 4 - 7 1 . Angela Winkler in Schlondorff's and von Trotta's The Lost Honor Blum (1975): the political face of New German Cinema.
of
Katharina
Petra von Kant (1972), Fear Eats the Soul (1973), and Fox (1974). The later films, although more popular, show more of the camp influence of Douglas Sirk and are generally more involuted. After n u m e r o u s television films, Fassbinder m a d e his first English-language film in i 978: Despair, from a screenplay by Tom Stoppard of the novel by Vladimir Nabokov. Despite those impressive literary antecedents, it did not establish him as a n international director. In 1979, The Marriage of Maria Braun (in G e r m a n once again) enjoyed considerable success a n d appealed to more general audiences. Berlin Alexanderplatz (1980), his fifteen-hour television series, marked the apex of his brief career. Werner Herzog is the least classifiable of the group. Even Dwarfs Started Small (1970) and Fata Morgana (1971) were ineffable experiments, while Land of Silence and Darkness (1971) and Every Man for Himself and God against All (Kaspar Hauser, 197'4) are m u c h more lucid, the former a study of the world of the deaf-mute, the latter Herzog's version of the wolf child/noble savage legend. Herzog concentrates on h u m a n beings in extreme situations, almost as if h e w e r e a n experimental anthropologist. Aguirre, the Wrath of God (1972) studies a n obsessive Spanish explorer in the New World o n a trip u p a n increasingly alien river. M a n y critics compared it favorably to its not-dissimilar but far more expensive successor Apoca-
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ture of traditional dramatic narrative and sophisticated mise-en-scene. Jonah, Who Will Be 25 in the Year 2000 (1976), a wry, h u m a n e , and very wise political allegory, was one of the more important social documents of t h e 1970s, considering its perceptive comments on the cultural and political fallout of the events of f968. Claude Goretta's films (Limitation, 1972; Pas si mechant que ga, 1975) were shaggy dog stories of particular charm. Michel Soutter managed to combine a bit of Goretta's charm with Tanner's politics in James ou pas (1970), Les Arpenteurs (1972), and L'Escapade (1973). The films of all three directors were pleasantly reminiscent of the spirit of the early New Wave.
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Figure 4-72. Alain Tanner's Jonah Who Will Be 25 in the Year 2000 remains one of the most significant films of the seventies, a warm, heartfelt investigation of the way we lived thenand the way we still might.
American cinema also saw an explosion of talent in the late sixties and early seventies, but unlike French and German n e w cinema it was highly commercial. The concept of genre remained strong. Gangsters and Musicals were hard to find in the seventies, but they were replaced by a series of n e w genres, including the Chase film, the Road film, the Nostalgia film, the Hollywood film (about the golden days of yesteryear), the Martial Arts film (usually importedVariety called this genre "Chop Socky"), the respectable Porn film, andmost profitable of all in the mid-seventiesthe Disaster film. Significantly, all of these invented genres were narrower in scope; n o n e offered as wide an opportunity for self-expression as, say, the Western or the Film Noir. While the n e w genres were of some interest, the most important innovation in the U.S. in the 1970s was the Black film, a wide category that included a great deal of cheap material ("Blaxploitation" in Variety's parlance) but also a n u m b e r of films of lasting value. By the end of the decade, Black film had almost disappeared from the Hollywood scene, but it was to rise again with renewed energy in the 1990s. Melvin Van Peebles, deciding that h e w a n t e d to be a filmmaker, w e n t to France to accomplish his aim. After making one film there (Story of a Three-Day Pass, 1967) he returned to the U.S. and was able, having proved himself abroad,
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Figure4-73. B L A C K
CINEMA.
Bill G u n n a n d Duane Jones in Gunn's remarkable Ganja and Hess (1973), part vampire movie, part anthropological analysis of the myth. (MOMA/FSA)
h a m (based on a novel by Charles Webb) The Graduate rocketed Dustin Hoffman to stardom. The famous refrain from the Simon & Garfunkel soundtrack h u n g in the air for more than thirty years: Where are you now, Joe Dimaggio? A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.... Woo, woo, woo.* The irony of those lyricsJoe was, of course, the hero of their parents' generationwas lost o n t h e y o u n g audiences of t h e time. Some would figure it o u t later, as the S u m m e r of Love drifted into smoky memory, t h e tie-dyed tees were exiled to the attic, the music diedand they became their parents. Mike Nichols was several years older t h a n t h e generation of t h e sixties that would take command of Hollywood in the years succeeding The Graduate. He was a product of the Beatnik years of the fifties, n o t the Hippie years, and as a childhood refugee from Nazism was further isolated. He has maintained that outsider status for more than thirty years. It has given him a unique perspective as a filmmaker and resulted in several films that will be required viewing for history students of the future trying to understand the postmodern culture of the late twentieth century. * "Mrs. Robinson" 1967 Paul Simon, Charing Cross Music. Used with permission.
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Figure 4-74.
Nichols and his partner Elaine May first rose to prominence in 1961 as the creators of the Broadway hit An Evening with Nichols and May, a review based o n their standup comedy routines, ft was the first of his cultural landmarks, announcing a n e w sophistication and resonance for the art of standup comedy that has become one of the pillars of American culture. In a few years h e was directing theater in New York, then landed his first film assignment with Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966) from t h e landmark Edward Albee play, starring the reigning Hollywood royal couple of the day, Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. He followed The Graduate with Catch-22 (1970). The Joseph Heller black comedy had been the key novel for the postwar generation that had come of age in the fifties and early sixties. Carnal Knowledge ( 1 9 7 1 ) , starring Art G a r f u n k e l a n d J a c k N i c h o l s o n , extended the discussion of the sexual revolution that had begun in The Graduate. Over t h e n e x t t w e n t y years Nichols directed some interesting films (The Fortune; 1975; Silkwood, 1983; Working Girl; 1988) but h e had fallen out of favor with the criticsessentially because he had n o recognizable personal style; h e was not a n "auteur." fn t h e late 1990s h e began working again with Elaine May. They scored big in 1998 with Primary Colors, based o n t h e Joe Klein novel about the 1992 Clinton campaign, a n d d e b u t i n g just in time for t h e Monica Lewinsky media circus. J o h n Travolta's resonant portrait of Bill Clinton is likely to remain the definitive character of the f 990s for some time.
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Figure 4-75.
Emma Thompson and John Travolta in Primary Colors. They feel our pain.
Coming from the world of theater, Nichols was not what him critics of the late 1960s were expecting. Everyone k n e w what had happened in France ten years earlierwhen the critics of Cahiers du Cinema had exchanged their typewriters for camerasand expected history to repeat itself. W h e n precocious film critic Peter Bogdanovich inveigled production funds out of Roger Corman for his first film, Targets (1968), and w h e n writers and Esquire magazine trend-setters Robert Benton and David Newman sold their script for Bonnie & Clyde to Hollywood, everyone thought the American "New Wave" had begun. Bogdanovich enjoyed some success in the early 1970s echoing his heroes from the Golden Age (The Last Picture Show, 1971; What's Up, Doc?, 1972; Paper Moon, 1973), then lost his bankability. Separately Benton and N e w m a n went on to long and distinguished careers as director and screenwriter, respectively. But few other critics managed to join the movement (Paul Schrader and Andrew Bergman had published their dissertations, Jay Cocks had written for Time). The American renaissance was b o m in film schools, not critical journals. The films produced by the independent company BBS were among the first to a n n o u n c e a n e w style: Easy Rider (1969, directed by actor Dennis Hopper), Five Easy Pieces (1970, Bob Rafelson), A Safe Place (1971, Henry Jaglom), Drive, He Said (1971, Jack Nicholson). Yet the commercial success of Easy Rider led only to the short-lived Youth genre, and even Rafelson, the most accomplished of the group,
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T H E S H A P E OF FILM H I S T O R Y was only able to complete two films in the next seven years: The King of Marvin Gardens (1972) and Stay Hungry (1976). Monte Hellman, another director associated with the BBS group, had been responsible for two remarkable Westerns in the mid-sixties (The Shooting, Ride the Whirlwind) and made one of the best films of the seventiesand certainly the superior Road himin Two-Lane Blacktop (1970), but was able to put together only one project in the six years that followed. Filmmakers w h o tried to maintain a personal vision while learning to work within the studio system had better success at getting their films made. Coming out of NYU film school, Martin Scorsese began with two unusual independent productions (Who's That Knocking at My Door?, 1967 and Mean Streets, 1973) but then produced two films that, while seemingly independent in style, nevertheless fit Hollywood patterns neatly: Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1974) and Taxi Driver (1976). New York, New York (1977) was an ambitious attempt to rework 1940s Musical style that never found its audience, while The Last Waltz (1978), an elegantly filmed record of The Band's farewell concert, achieved some critical and commercial success. Scorsese hit his stride in the eighties with a string of increasingly ambitious and interesting films. As the more famous filmmakers of his generation succumbed to habits, he broke n e w ground with Raging Bull (1980), based on the autobiography of boxer Jake LaMotta, a raw, visceral cry from the heart filmed in black and white. The King of Comedy (1983), After Hours (1985), The Color of Money (1986) and The Last Temptation of'Christ (1988) followed. It is hard to imagine a m o r e varied group of films: a dark comic essay on celebrity; a shoestring production of a student script; a big-star sequel to a classic film noir (The Hustler); and a modern biblical epic based on the controversial novel by Nikos Kazantzakis. Scorsese's o u t p u t in t h e 1990s was equally diverse a n d e x p l o r a t o r y . Yet a n o t h e r collaboration with Robert De Niro, Goodfellas (1990) r e i n v e n t e d t h e Gangster genre mixing equal parts of humor, m u n d a n e anxiety, and terror. The two collaborators next turned to a Hollywood-style remake of the Film-Noir classic Cape Fear (1991). The Age of Innocence (1993), based on t h e Edith W h a r t o n novel about New York society in the 1870s, provided a canvas for historical accuracy, while Casino (1995) offered another platform for De Niro's gangster persona. Scorsese capped this varied suite of movies with Kundun (i997), a mesmeric meditation on the early life of the Dalai Lama. Taken together the films of this twentyyear period constitute a series of virtuoso directorial performances. During this period Scorsese was also active in film preservation and history: A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese through American Movies (1995), his four-hour contribution to the British Film Institute's A Century of Cinema series, provided a unique perspective, emphasizing the contributions of independent filmmakers. The model for the n e w generation of Hollywood directors in the seventies had been Francis Ford Coppola, w h o w e n t to work for Roger Corman straight out of
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Figure 4-76.
an
elegant historical treatment of the Edith Wharton novel which exhibited marvelous attention to detail and demonstrated that Scorsese had a mature stylistic range.
him school in the 1960s, achieved some success as a screenwriter, then produced and directed several personal films, including The Rain People (1969) and The Conversation (1974). In between, he was responsible for o n e of the most profitable l a n d m a r k s of t h e early seventies, The Godfather (1972), which along w i t h its sequels (1975, 1991) is regarded by m a n y critics as the most significant American film of recent years. Such a combination of commercial a n d critical success is extremely rare. Coppola next spent close to four years and m o r e t h a n $30 million on Apocalypse Now (1979), a stunningly conceived and elegantly filmed attempt to wring some meaning out of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness set in the context of the Vietnam war. Critics and audiences seemed to agree that the attempt was not entirely successful. Despite its vividly felt metaphors for the malaise of the American experience in Vietnamperhaps because of its brilliantly constructed images and soundsApocalypse Now didn't seem to tell us very m u c h about Vietnam. In 1968, w h e n the idea first occurred to Coppola and J o h n Milius, such a film would have had revolutionary impact. More than ten years later, the postwar generation needed more than the nightmare of war; they needed understanding. It may be asking too m u c h of three hours of film to provide such an analysis, but Apocalypse, t h r o u g h o u t its agonizing production schedule, seemed to promise a great deal that it eventually didn't deliver.
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HISTORY
Figure 4-77.
Married and Tucker, Francis Ford Coppola masterfully captured the look and feel of the sixties and the forties at the same time that he crafted eloquent fables to capture the romantic and adventurous myths of those periods that remain with us today. Here, Peggy Sue (Kathleen Turner) is named Queen of her twenty-fifth high school r e u n i o n . . .
U n d a u n t e d , Coppola picked himself u p quickly a n d in t h e spring of 1980 bought the former Samuel Goldwyn Studios in Hollywood. Ten years earlier h e had tried with middling success to found an alternative studio in San Francisco. His challenge to the Hollywood power structure"American Zoetrope"succeeded mainly behind the scenes as Coppola supported the budding careers of several younger filmmakers. Renamed more ambitiously "Omni Zoetrope," the n e w studio had an even shorter life span. Throughout the eighties h e experimented with a wide variety of styles, seldom with box office success. One from the Heart (f 982) was obsessed with computerized special effects m a n y years before they were advanced e n o u g h to become commercial. In 1983 The Outsiders and Rumblefish from the S. E. Hinton youth novels introduced a remarkable n u m b e r of actors w h o would dominate Hollywood for the next few years, f 984's The Cotton Club, an ambitious re-creation of a special period in American musical history, fell short. But with Peggy Sue Got Married (1986) and Tucker: The Man and His Dream (1988), a long-delayed project, Coppola realized two remarkable visions. The former was a perfect elegy to the late fifties and early sixties, an emblem for that generation. The latter was the first i 9 4 0 s movie to be made since The Godfather, and a h y m n to American entrepreneurship that will grow in importance as it seasons. In f 990, Coppola completed the Godfather trilogy with Part III, which met with much less success than its predecessors.
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Figure 4 - 7 8 . ... while Preston Tucker (Jeff Bridges) watches as the first Tuckers roll off the Chicago assembly line.
In the 1990s Coppola had some success as director of Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992) and The Rainmaker (1997), from the John Grisham courtroom novel, but chose to spend most of his time producing rather than directing. In this he was not alone. Although the generation of the 1970s came of age at a t i m e w h e n t h e director had b e e n declared king of t h e filmmaking hill by auteurist critics on both sides of the Atlantic, all of the major star directorsSpielberg, Coppola, Scorsese, and Lucashave spent at least as m u c h time producing (and writing) as directing during the last twenty-five years. Indeed, Lucasarguably t h e most influential filmmaker of t h e p e r i o d w e n t t w e n t y - t w o years between directorial assignments. So much for the auteur theory! Ironically, one of Coppola's earliest proteges, George Lucas, was able to realize his mentor's corporate dream first. After his debut with TUX 1138, a Science Fiction film produced by Zoetrope that earned very little at the box office, Lucas turned in 1973 to American Graffiti, one of the most popular films of the seventies. He followed it in i 9 7 7 w i t h Star Wars, the highest-grossing film at t h e time, which, through its lucrative licensing rights (dolls, games, toys, T-shirts), became the foundation of Lucas's o w n empire: Lucasfilm Ltd. Lucas then abandoned the director's chair to concentrate on producing and managing his company. With the profits from Star Wars he built film production facilities in Marin County north of San Francisco from which he has operated ever since. T h r o u g h o u t t h e eighties, Lucas prospected in the Star Wars goldmine (two sequels) and, together with Steven Spielberg, established the lucrative and entertaining Indiana Jones franchise. Lucas also became increasing involved in the spe-
Cinema": Esthetics Amistad, based on the famous slave rebellion. The next year for the first time h e found a subject w h e r e h e could combine substance and spectacle: Saving Private Ryan, a remarkable World War n epic. Older by a generation t h a n these three director/impresarios, Robert Altman has survived in uneasy alliance with the studios, s o m e h o w managing to make his o w n films his way. He is one of the most original of contemporary filmmakers. His cinema is adventurous: M*A*S*H (1970) set the t o n e for a generation (and secured Altman's artistic freedom in the process). McCabe and Mrs. Miller (1971) was certainly the primary Western of the period, just as The Long Goodbye (1972) and Thieves Like Us (1974) represented original versions of their genres, the Detective film a n d Film Noir, respectively. Altman's greatest achievement of the 1970s was Nashville (1975), a n extraordinarily original film that touched mythic roots in the Bicentennial consciousness. Buffalo Bill and the Indians (1976) also raised some interesting questions about the American w a y of life. Perhaps Altman's m a i n contribution to the "New Hollywood" has been his m e t h o d of working. While star directors painstakingly labor over their would-be masterpieces for years o n end, Altman churned out movies at the rate of one every nine m o n t h s during his heyday in the seventies. They seld o m m a d e m u c h money, but o n average they paid for themselves. Sometimes they were interesting (A Wedding, 1978), sometimes they were charming (A Perfect Couple, 1979), and occasionally they were abysmally arty (Quintet, 1978), but they w e r e almost always infused w i t h a love of t h e m e d i u m a n d a h u m a n e intelligenceand there were so m a n y of them! Altman broke stride in the eighties, selling his Lion's Gate studio base, turning his attention to the theater and directing a few films based o n plays before returning with considerable fanfare with 1992's The Player, a tour de force satire of cont e m p o r a r y Hollywood riddled with inside jokes a n d right o n the money. Short Cuts, released in 1993, m e t with mixed reactions, but h e was back in form with Ready To Wear (1994), a satire o n the fashion industry, and Cookie's Fortune (1999), an audience-pleasing comedy. J o h n Cassavetes, w h o had foreshadowed the independence of contemporary directors with his landmark Shadows (1959), returned to independent production ten years later with Faces (1968). He followed with Husbands (1970), Minnie and Moskowitz (1971), a n d A Woman under the Influence (1974), his most popular film, then several examinations of the art of acting seen only by conscientious Cassavetes devotees (among t h e m The Killing of a Chinese Bookie, 1976, a film of some interest). Despite a difficult style, d e p e n d e n t o n improvisation a n d intense relationships b e t w e e n actors, Cassavetes was able to finance and complete his films w i t h o u t recourse to studio money. As an accomplished professional actor w h o was able to maintain a productive parallel life as an independent director, J o h n Cassavetes held a unique place in modern American film history. He died in 1989.
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T H E S H A P E OF FILM H I S T O R Y
Figure 4 - 7 9 . In 1 9 9 3 , Steven Spielberg a c c o m plished a remarkable coup, releasing both a monster blockbuster {Jurassic Park) heavily dependent on advanced special effects a n d a lengthy Academy-Awardwinning elegy dealing with a difficult subject and dependent mainly on intelligent dialogue. Here, the classical monster threatens, in a surprisingly disjointed film that seemed to have its eye on the sequelor perhaps its own t h e m e park...
Paul Mazursky was o n e of t h e key filmmakers to come of age in t h e t970s w h o managed to live more or less successfully within t h e studio system. Mazursky concentrated on the h u m a n comedy in a long string of interesting films. Bob &
Carol & Ted & Alice (1969), Alexin Wonderland (1970), Blume in Love (1973), Harry Village (1976) all displayed a q u i e t and Tonto (1974), a n d Next Stop, Greenwich
h u m o r at t h e same time as they limned contemporary lifestyles. An Unmarried Woman (1978) was Mazursky's most popular film, catching the feminist wave at its crest. Willie and Phil (1980) was a summary of his concerns a n d a n interesting attempt to c o m m e n t on its spiritual source, Truffaut's classic Jules and Jim. In the eighties, Mazursky continued on track with Tempest (1982, an audacious reworking of Shakespeare), Moscow on the Hudson (1984, Robin Williams as a Russian immigrant), and Enemies, a Love Story (1989), a resonant m e m o r y of t h e shadow the Holocaust cast on New York. Mazursky was a n actor and standup comic in the fifties and sixties. His first film was Stanley Kubrick's Fear and Desire (1953); h e also had a role in Richard Brooks's seminal The Blackboard Jungle (1955). In the
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1990s, he did more acting than directingalthough his 1998 HBO biopic Winchell was well-received. One of the more underrated directors of the 1970s, Michael Ritchiein Downhill Racer (1969), The Candidate (1972), Smile (1975), Bad News Bears (1976), and Semi-Tough (1977)combined documentary techniques with fictional structures to achieve an unusual blend. Prime Cut (1972) remains a witty metaphor for modern America that is still relevant and that should be more widely appreciated. No o n e has b e e n m o r e successful at controlling the content and form of his films than Woody Allen, w h o , after completing a string of comic successes in the early seventies (Bananas, 1971; Sleeper, 1973; Love and Death, 1975), discovered n e w resonance and n e w critical attention in 1977 with Annie Hall. He followed this with an ill-advised "serious" mock-European essay in intellectual angst, Interiors (1978)whose main effect was to m a k e it difficult to take Woody's m e n t o r fngmar Bergman seriously againbut snapped back into form with Manhattan (f 979). Allen t h e n cruised through the eighties, producing a remarkably consist e n t b o d y of w o r k w h o s e highlights included Stardust Memories (1980), Zelig (1983), Broadway Danny Rose (1984), The Purple Rose of Cairo (1985), Hannah and Her Sisters (1986), Radio Days (1987), and Alice (1990), all of which were informed
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(1994) and Mighty Aphrodite (1995) were lightweight comedies, but garnered a n impressive n u m b e r of Oscar n o m i n a t i o n s b e t w e e n t h e m . Allen's first musical comedy Everyone Says I Love You (1996) was nearly as popular, but t h e old angst surfaced again in Deconstructing Harry (1997) and Celebrity (1998), which both m e t w i t h decidedly m i x e d reviews. Nevertheless, Woody Allen has m a n a g e d over three decades to m a k e his kind of movies his way: a remarkably independent artist in an industry that does not prize that quality. While Allen, Altman, Bogdanovich, Cassavetes, Coppola, Lucas, Mazursky, Nichols, Scorsese, Spielberg, and Ritchiethe p a n t h e o n of American film in the seventiesseemed to rise above the general run of American directors, there are others from this period whose work also has lasted. Alan J. Pakula, Sydney Pollack, J o h n Korty, Philip Kaufman, Hal Ashby, and Mel Brooks all fall into this category. The documentary fared well in the seventies, too. Besides the filmmakers already mentioned above, Haskell Wexler, Saul Landau, Peter Davis, and Emile De Antonio should be cited. Wexler, an accomplished cinematographer, directed one of the most significant films of the f960s, Medium Cool (1969), which skillfully combined the heartbreak of the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago with an incisive essay o n the relationship between the media and politics. Landau was responsible for a n u m b e r of salient nonfiction films (Interview with President Allende, Report on Torture in Brazil, both 1971), often working with Wexler. De Antonio specialized in the compilation film, building politically pointed essays out of material shot by other people: Point of Order (f 963), on the Army-McCarthy hearings, Millhouse (1971), about Richard Nixon, and Painters Painting (1972), his only nonpolitical film. De Antonio and Wexler combined to film Underground in 1976, a film about U.S. political fugitives of the anti-war Weather organization. Peter Davis's d o c u m e n t a r y essay about the painful relationship b e t w e e n the U.S. a n d Vietnam, Hearts and Minds (1975), a n n o y e d s o m e viewers because it seemed to be partisan, but remains one of the most remarkable American nonfiction films since 1960. It not only presented m u c h important information visually, but also because it was passionate about its subject it had an emotional as well as intellectual effect o n its a u d i e n c e s . Sadly, t h e film w a s seen only in t h e last m o n t h s of t h e war, w h e n it was already finally clear, after t e n years, that U.S. intervention had been a tragic mistake. The documentary format also proved to be a comfortable ground for a n u m b e r of w o m e n directors in t h e seventies: Joyce C h o p r a , M a r t h a Coolidge, Julia
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Figure 4-81.
satire on today's Hollywood, rich with inside jokes but at the same time not dependent on t h e m . Here Studio Exec Tim Robbins gets the message. { 1992 Fine Line Features. All rights reserved. Photo by Joyce Rudolph. Courtesy New Line Productions, Inc.)
Reichert, Amalie Rothschild, Claudia Weill, Nell Cox, Cinda Firestone, Barbara Kopple, and others. Most of these directors found the autobiographical format useful to investigate feminist issues. Tn f 978 Claudia Weill made an impressive feature debut with Girl Friends, an independent production that displayed the sort of direct sensitivity and unvarnished style that marked the independent nonfiction film in the late seventies. In the eighties she reached a wide audience as a director of the landmark television series thirtysomething. Chopra, Coolidge, and Reichert followed similar paths, combining the occasional feature with more or less steady work in television. Rothschild, Cox, and Kopple continued to make documentaries. Among the wealth of nonfiction films made both for theatrical distribution and television airing in the late 1970s three historical studies might be singled out for special attention. Barbara Kopple's f 976 Harlan County, U.S.A. gave us a vivid and moving portrait of the w o m e n and m e n w h o were still struggling for better working conditions in that mining center forty years after the great labor battles of the thirties
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The Postmodern
It is the salient fact about the 1980s and the 1990s that n o n e w generation of young turks arose to challenge the cinema of the 1970s. Despite the vast changes in the business (and the world) in the past twenty years, with movies it's been more of the same: Star Wars then; Star Wars now; more Star Wars later. Essentially there has b e e n little n e w to report since the second edition of this book appeared in 1981. Sequelmania remains the watchword, at least of the American film industry, a n d every producer's dream is a "franchise" film, one whose situation, storyline, a n d characters lend themselves to a series. It is unlikely that a n y producer will beat Albert "Cubby" Broccoli's record: James Bond began in 1962 with Dr. No, and has continued for m o r e t h a n thirty-five years and six Bond incarnations. (Only Sherlock Holmes has been played by more actors.) But action series like 48 Hours, Beverly Hills Cop, Lethal Weapon, a n d Die Hard, and Science Fiction franchises like Star Trek and Aliens aimed to give Bond a r u n for his money.* W h e n Hollywood isn't making sequels, it's doing remakes, often of television shows (The Fugitive, The Beverly Hillbillies, 1993; The Flintstones, 1994; The Brady BunchMovie, 1995; Mission: Impossible, Sgt. Bilko, 1996; Lost in Space, 1998; My FavorNotable in this g r o u p is Alien, b o t h because its h e r o is a w o m a n (Sigourney Weaver) a n d because it w i n s t h e prize for creative series titling: Alien, Aliens, Alien , Alien Resurrection.
3
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Figure 4 - 8 2 . Woody Allen's black-and-white romantic fantasy of his hometown, Manhattan (1979), emphasized the mythic elements of New York: bridges and rivers and tow-away zones....
F i g u r e 4 - 8 3 . ... Zelig (1983) was a masterful exploitations of electronic matte techniques, an unusual departure for a filmmaker known for his dialogue, not his special effects. (That's Woody/ Zelig waving behind der Fuhrer.)... (Frame enlargement)
ManhatMystery
(1994) reprised the New York themes once again, after Allen's harrowing brush with reality-based celebrity.
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Figure 4 - 8 5 . Warren Beatty's Dick Tracy (1990) was one of the last in a long line of films recycling the comics of the thirties and forties. An ambitious attempt to capture the mood and look of that era (at least as it was portrayed in the comics) the film drew on the talents of both Madonna and Stephen Sondheim, as well as cinematographer Vittorio Storaro.
ite Martian, Wild Wild West, The Mod Squad, 1999), sometimessurprisinglyof European films (Three Men and a Baby, 1987; Sommersby, 1992; Scent of a Woman, 1992). There is n o better evidence that world film cultures are rapidly merging t h a n this u n u s u a l interest Hollywood has s h o w n in European hits. There is n o m o r e striking evidence of the impoverishment of our popular culture t h a n the endless wave of TV-shows-made-for-movies (unless it's the string of movies converted to Broadway musicals). European directors n o w seem to move effortlessly from their o w n cultures to Hollywood and occasionally back again. Paul Verhoeven did historical dramas and slice-of-life vignettes at h o m e in the Netherlands; in Hollywood, h e became a prop o n e n t of stylish action-oriented Science Fiction (Robocop, 1987; Total Recall, 1990), t h e n tried his h a n d at bold sex (Basic Instinct, 1992; Showgirls, 1995). In France, Barbet Schroeder was a critic for Cahiers du Cinema and Eric Rohmer's partner; in the U.S., h e earned his Hollywood stripes with the complex drama Reversal of Fortune (1990). British directors (Alan Parker, Stephen Frears, Michael Apted, Ridley Scott, and Tony Scott) increasingly found work in Hollywood and were joined in the eighties by a n u m b e r of commuting Australians. Perhaps o n e reason for this broadening of the Hollywood purview was the increasing importance of the export market. In the early 1980s the American film
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Figure
4-86.
Roger Rabbit
(1988)
comic world, this time by inventing its own, a Toonland now more real to some than its historical predecessors. More inventive than the comic book blockbusters of the eighties, it was also more entertaining. Here, Roger gets the best of his live-action co-star Eddie Valliant (Bob Hoskins).
industry paid tribute to Goldcrest Films, t h e British production c o m p a n y that seemed to do n o wrongfor a few years. Oscars w e n t to Gandhi (f 982) and The Killing Fields (f 984). F r o m t h a t time on, t h e historical stylistic differentiation between American and European films lessened. The movies tiiat these international crews produced increasingly split into two separate product lines: although Hollywood m u s t pay attention to the Boomer bulge, the large generation in its forties and fifties n o w moving into middle age, it continues to focus its greatest effort o n the thirteen- to twenty-four-year-old market. Two films of the early eighties neatly foreshadowed these markets: Spielberg's E.T. (1982), the prototype of the Action-Adventure blockbuster fantasy w h o s e leading characters are children, and Lawrence Kasdan's The Big Chill (1983), the m o d e l for the c o n t e m p o r a r y middle-aged, middle-class character dramas that stock the shelves of the video stores. By far the leading genre of the f 980s and t990s has been the Action-Adventure film, which, because it relies so little o n character a n d character development, lends itself so well to sequels, a n d which exploits to the limit the rapidly developing sophistication of Hollywood's now-digitized special effects industry. Characterized by a t h i n v e n e e r of science fiction a n d fantasy, w h i c h gives the effects specialists the excuse to ply their trade, contemporary Action movies sue-
"Cinema": Esthetics J o h n F. Kennedy. He has killed more t h a n 300 people o n screen as his films have grossed well over $ 1 billion worldwide. To reach this elevated position in the Hollywood p a n t h e o n , Schwarzenegger h a d to best a formidable competitorSylvester Stallone, t h e actor-writer w h o was responsible for reinventing the Action genre.* As a n actor, Stallone was getting n o w h e r e until h e wrote his o w n script for Rocky (1976), a critical a n d commercial success whose four sequels kept him working into the 1990s. The equally successful Rambo series (beginning with 1982's First Blood) took the action from fairly realistic boxing to extensive revenge fantasy. Eschewing the Science Fiction element and its special effects in favor of pure American tough guy, Stallone left the door open for Schwarzenegger and James Cameron to take the development to the n e x t step. In 1993, however, Schwarzenegger fell to earth as Last Action Hero flopped, while Stallone returned to box-office form with Cliffhanger and the sci-fi comedy Demolition Man. The balance of power b e t w e e n the t w o stars was restored. Over the next few years Schwarzenegger began to pull away again (True Lies, 1994; Eraser, 1996) as Stallone faded (Judge Dredd, f995; Daylight, 1996). At the end of the decade both saw fit to essay character roles, Schwarzenegger as the villain of Batman & Robin (1997), Stallone as a voice in the animated Antz (1998). Schwarzenegger and Stallone did have challengers during this period. On the strength of three Die Hards and Armageddon (f 998) Bruce Wiliis looked like a contender, and so did the team of Mel Gibson and Danny Glover (four Lethal Weapons between f 987 and 1998). But all three of these actors don't take the genre seriously e n o u g h . (I m e a n , Gibson e v e n did a Hamletyou k n o w , t h e play by Shakespeare!) All of t h e m are quickly being eclipsed by a m u c h younger star: Will Smith. In a tour-de-force career, Smith turned stardom as a teenage rap singer into a successful television series (The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, 1990-96) while trying his h a n d at serious film roles during hiatus (Six Degrees of Separation, 1993). W h e n the series w a s over h e hit t h e A c t i o n - A d v e n t u r e g r o u n d r u n n i n g in Independence Day (1996), t h e n kept u p the s u m m e r movie t e m p o t h r o u g h o u t the late 1990s with Men in Black (1997), Enemy of the State (1998), and Wild Wild West (1999). If Action movies often seem like fantastic theme-park rides, it is n o coincidence. We attend the movies for m u c h the same reasons w e take the rides and, increasingly, the t h e m e parks are owned by movie companies, and the films advertise the parks. The trend culminated in yet another celebration of contemporary special-effects technology, Steven Spielberg's Jurassic Park (1993), a film whose subject is a futuristic t h e m e park and which, of course, sparked its o w n spate of * Bruce Lee, the 1970s prototype of the Action hero, died before the genre was properly defined. His son Brandon, a potential 1990s challenger, also died young.
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364
Cinema": Esthetics
Figure 4-87. James Cameron singlehandledly revived the Disaster genre with his $ 2 0 0 million gamble on Titanic
(1997).
Most of the cast of thousands were digital animations. Six years ear-
lier Cameron had set the code for digital fantasy with T2. With this retelling of the epitome of technological failure he set a parallel model for digital reality. Titanic is an e m b l e m of our q u i c k e n i n g trans-Platonic crossing to the new world of virtuality.
after it began, Saturday Night Live skits served as source material for full-length feature films (Wayne's World, 1992; The Coneheads, 1993). While younger filmgoers were flocking to multiplexes throughout the 1980s and 1990s for their regular doses of virtual action, postmodern comedy, and sporadic myth, a n occasional smaller theater in the 'plex was turned over to those of their elders w h o still left the house. The revolutionary excitement of the f 960s m a y have been a m e m o r y (celebrated to some degree in the latter-day art-house hit Cinema Paradiso, 1990), but the general level of quality remained high. We have already noted the continuing work of the generation of the seventiesCoppola, Scorsese, Altman, Mazursky. No filmmaker of the eightiesexcept perhaps Spike Leehas received comparable media attention. This is not surprising; times are different. Now, every colorless technician gets his n a m e above the title, but the true age of the auteur has passed. About the only film comedians of the eighties you can name who didn't apprentice at SNL were the successful team of Richard Pryor and Gene Wiiderand Wilder later married Gilda Radner, who did. Jim Carrey, the most expensive comic star of the 1990s, came to prominence on Keenen Ivory Wayans's In Living Color, the then-new Fox network's imitation of SNL. Conversely, the most influential comedian of the period, Bill Cosby, never had equal success in film. Robin Williams, a remarkable standup comic, has had greater success with dramatic than with comic roles.
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Spielberg-Lucas orbit to create a popular mythos. More important, the script by Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis successfully defused the fxorc/sf-inspired trend to sadistic horror. Left: the Staypuft monster sashays up Central Park West (the route of Macy's annual Thanksgiving Day parade). Right: the No-Ghost logo was recognizable the world over and imitated widely.
Although their artistic profiles m a y be lower, the n e w generation has nevertheless established a reputation of its own. We've already noted the contributions of Reitman and Zemeckis to the y o u t h mythology that Lucas and Spielberg constructed. Action directors like J a m e s C a m e r o n a n d J o h n McTiernan (Predator, 1987; Die Hard, 1988; The Thomas Crown Affair r e m a k e , 1999) h a v e also m a d e their m a r k here, thanks to their imaginative handling of special effects. Jim Henson was just as influential in molding contemporary myths as George Lucas a n d Steven Spielberg, although most of his w o r k was done in television. W h e n h e t u r n e d to film w i t h The Muppet Movie (1979), The Great Muppet Caper (1981), a n d TheMuppets Take Manhattan (1984), h e preserved his puppet characters in m o r e substantial vehicles for future generations before his untimely death in 1991. James L. Brooks is another switch-hitter. He has had a h a n d in two of the most important television series of the last thirty years: The Mary Tyler Moore Show in the 1970s and The Simpsons in the 1990s. But h e has also made his mark in theatrical film. He started at the top, with a hat-trick of Oscars for Terms of Endearment in 1983, as producer, writer, and director. Broadcast News (1987) revisited the television news r o o m and As Good as It Gets (1997) gave Jack Nicholson and Helen Hunt a broad canvas to paint a quirky romance. Those filmmakers, like Brooks, w h o preferred to speak to adult audiences developed a mix of nostalgia and contemporary social comedy which has proved durable. Barry Levinson is a m o d e l . After w o r k i n g as a screenwriter for Mel
367
Figure 4-89.
untimely death, Jim Henson was able to translate his world, originally invented for television, to the movies in a series of musical films w h i c h are all as thoughtful as they are c h a r m i n g . He made taking the kids to the movies a pleasure in the eighties. Here, Kermit and Miss Piggy pose for a publicity still, surrounded by their talented and colorful supporting cast. It may not be easy being green, but it's a kick to be pink.
Brooks, h e m a d e a notable directorial debut in 1982 with Diner, set in his native Baltimore in the 1950s. He returned to his h o m e t o w n twice during the next ten years for Tin Men (1987), set a few years later, a n d the elegiac Avalon (1990), w h i c h traced his family's history. Interspersed w i t h these looks back w e r e t h e commercially successful Good Morning, Vietnam (1987) and Rain Man (1988), character dramas a n d tours de force for their stars, respectively Robin Williams and Dustin Hoffman. Levinson returned to his native Baltimore in the nineties to produce the admired television series Homicide. On the big screen in the nineties h e can lay claim to Quiz Show (1994) a n d Wag the Dog (1997), t w o films about the political consciousness of t h e fifties a n d t h e nineties, respectively, t h a t should stand the test of time. The Marshall family has also excelled with older audiences. P e n n y Marshall (Big, 1988; A League of Their Own, 1992; The Preacher's Wife, 1996) a n d her elder brother Garry Marshall (The Flamingo Kid, 1984; Pretty Woman, 1990; The Runaway Bride, 1999) h a v e brought a reasoned sense of comedy to their varied projects. Penny's ex-husband Rob Reiner has displayed a wider range of interests in a prolific body of work, from his debut This Is Spinal Tap (i 984) to When Harry Met Sally ... (1989, written by Nora Ephron), Misery (1990), A Few GoodMen (1992), The American President (1995), and The Ghost of Mississippi (1986). Both Marshalls and
368
Figure 4-90.
Nora Ephron hit her stride with Sleepless in Seattle, a remarkable tour de force
that proved to be a refreshing hit, revisiting the romantic themes of the forties in the person of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.
Reiner enjoyed successful runs in television sitcoms before embarking o n feature careers, a n d returned to acting careers in the 1990s. Former child actor Ron Howard (The Andy Griffith Show) has also established a durable directorial career (Splash, 1984; Cocoon, 1985; Apollo 13, 1995; EdTV, 1999). Essayist, novelist, a n d screenwriter Nora Ephron, daughter of the screenwriting t e a m of Henry a n d Phoebe Ephron, finally hit h e r stride in h e r fifties with Sleepless in Seattle (1993), in which the two main characters are separated by a continent and don't "meet cute" until the final reela screenwriter's movie, if ever t h e r e was o n e . She redoubled t h e resonances w i t h t h e same t w o actors (Tom Hanks a n d Meg Ryan) in You've Got Mail (1998), a r e m a k e of Ernst Lubitsch's 1940 The Shop Around the Corner that managed to capture the burgeoning Internet culture perfectly. These two films will last. What Ephron, the Marshalls, and Reiner do for adult characters, J o h n Hughes did for teenagers. In a n unusually focused group of films in the mid-eighties (Sixteen Candles, 1984; Weird Science, 1985; The Breakfast Club, 1985; Pretty in Pink, 1986; Ferris Bueller's Day Off, 1986; Uncle Buck, 1989), all set in the same Chicago suburb, writer-producer-director Hughes examined the roots of Generation X before anyone realized it existed. He did so with understanding and style, displaying a sensitivity to adolescent concerns and middle-class family life that is as rare as it is precise. His production Home Alone (1990, directed by Chris Columbus) exploited the
Cinema": Esthetics
369
Figure 4 - 9 1 . What Henson did for the gradeschoolers in the eighties, John Hughes did for the highschoolers: providing a set of essays on middle-class American adolescence that helped his youngish audiences understand a little more about their confusing world. Uncle Buck (John Candy) is the kids' ideal adult.
raw materials of the earlier films, added gratuitous cartoon violence, but evinced n o n e of Hughes's trademark empathy. It became his biggest box-office hit. Home Alone was apparently intended to be a comic reverse on the hot genre of the late eighties, paranoid fantasies. Echoing the slang of the period, critic James Pallot has called this pattern "the ... from Hell." Always a n undercurrent since Rosemary's Baby (1968), this genre became one of the key forms of the 1980s and t990s with the box-office success of Fatal Attraction (1987, the lover from hell). The Child's Play series debuted the next year (the toy from hell). J o h n Schlesinger weighed in with the tenant from hell (Pacific Heights, 1990). The genre picked u p speed in the 1990s after the huge success of Jonathan Demme's Silence of the Lambs (1991, the prisoner from hell). The next few years saw a string of paranoid fantasies about husbands, roommates, school friends, nannies, and secretaries (respectively, Sleeping with the Enemy, 1991; Single White Female, 1992; Poison Ivy, 1992; The Hand That Rocks the Cradle, 1992; and The Temp, 1993). It had been m o r e t h a n thirty years since the Science Fiction films of the 1950s, w h e n a comparable spate of paranoia gripped film audiences. Counterbalancing this fear was the strain of nostalgia we have already noted. It found one of its most endearing and unusual outlets in the surprising string of
370
Cinema": Esthetics mote documentaries. Shortly after winning Sundance, Barbara Kopple's American Dream (1990) garnered her a second Academy Award.* The media attention that festival exposure can generate can m a k e all the difference to a filmmaker's career, a n d often has unusual side-effects. Former child actor Ben Affleck worked for the newly hot Kevin Smith in Mallrats (1995), a failure, a n d Chasing Amy (1997), a hit. Affleck a n d his friend Matt D a m o n w r o t e t h e m s e l v e s a H o l l y w o o d vehicle, Good Will Hunting (1997). Their A c a d e m y Awards for screenwriting boosted their bankability as actors. Such are the ways of the n e w Hollywood. Throughout the 1980s a n d 1990s the model for independent filmmakers was J o h n Sayles. An a u t h o r and screenwriter in the 1970s, h e debuted as a director with The Return of the Secaucus Seven in 1979, which most critics regard as the "real" Big Chill. The Brother from Another Planet (1984), Matewan (1987), a n d City of Hope (1991), together with Eight Men Out, Lone Star (1996), and Limbo (1999) approach American society from markedly different points of view b u t share a deft a n d deeply worked sense of character. Within Hollywood one of the more independent artists of the 1980s and 1990s was Oliver Stone. In Platoon (1986), Born on the Fourth of July (1989), The Doors (1991), a n d JFK (1992) h e reviewed most of t h e critical issues of t h e seminal decade of the 1960s: the Vietnam war and its aftermath, the counterculture, and assassinations, h i Wall Street (1987) h e blew the whistle o n the 1980s just before the stock market crash. He completed his w o r k o n the 1960s with Nixon (1995). Only the paranoid conspiracy theories of JFK m a r this forceful body of work. The n e w wave of African-American filmmakers have also benefited from the attention a Cannes appearance brings. Spike Lee's She's Gotta Have It was s h o w n at the 1986 festival. Lee continued to bring his films to Cannes thereafter, traditionally irate w h e n they didn't w i n major prizes. Robert Townsend's Hollywood Shuffle was screened at Cannes in 1987. At the 1990 festival, you could find Mario Van Peebles with his father, Melvin, at the Majestic Hotel courting distributors for New Jack City (1991). J o h n Singleton's BoyzNthe Hood was a major topic of conversation at the 1991 Festival. Mario Van Peebles is the only n e w African-American filmmaker with roots in t h e industry. He has w o r k e d closely with his father, w h o could be said to h a v e founded the m o v e m e n t in the 1960s. Robert Townsend made his acting debut in Paul Mazursky's Willie &Phil (1980) and worked in stand-up comedy before producing his i n d e p e n d e n t satire o n the difficulties facing Black actors, Hollywood Although Sundance has not been very useful to foreign filmmakers, it has helped to widen the market for independent "alternative" features from abroad like Trainspotting (1996, Danny Boyle) that share the youth subculture that was the most prominent characteristic of independent film in the 1990s.
371
372
independent film in the late eighties. Andie MacDowell is the w o m a n with the video camera.
Shuffle (f 987). While working often in television, Townsend directed his first Hollywood film, The Five Heartbeats, in 1991. Keenen Ivory Wayans worked on Hollywood Shuffle with Townsend, t h e n m a d e his o w n spoof of the "Blaxploitation" films of t h e seventies, Vm Gonna Git You Sucka, the next year, fn f 990 h e was signed by Fox television to p r o d u c e In Living Color, w h i c h h e h a d conceived. Reversing the racial ratio of Saturday Night Live it offeredfor the first timemultiple and varied African-American attitudes to current events and issues. It also provided a launching pad for most of his talented siblings: Damon, Kim, Shawn, and Marlon. The Wayans family certainly holds the current record for a successful show business family, outnumbering the Jacksons. In 1991 the African-American spectrum broadened with the debuts of t w o very young independent filmmakers w h o captured the characters, concerns, and sounds of their neighborhoods on opposite sides of the country: J o h n Singleton's "Hood" was South-Central Los Angeles; Matty Rich came Straight Out of Brooklyn. Clearly, the d o m i n a n t personality in the Black film renaissance of the f 980s and f 990s was Brooklynite actor-writer-director Spike Lee. His NYU film school student thesis, Joe's Bed-Stuy Barbershop: We Cut Heads (1980) was screened in the N e w York Film Festival New Directors series. His first feature, She's Gotta Have It (1986), w o n acclaim at Cannes, impressed critics with its visual flare, did surprising box-office business, and established the character Lee played, streetwise hus-
Cinema": Esthetics
Figure 4-93.
political interests, hit the mark with Wall Street, a film that sharply captured the ethical climate of the go-go eighties at the same time that it tellingly portrayed a b u n c h of livelyand t r u e characters. Michael Douglas is the lizardly Gordon Gekko.
tier Mars Blackmon, as part of the popular culture. (He appeared in Nike commercials w i t h Michael J o r d a n , a n d elsewhere.) Do the Right Thing (1989), a polemically charged portrait of contemporary race relations, became a subject of controversy at the same time that critics praised its allusive imagery. For years, n u m e r o u s filmmakers, mostly white, had attemptedand failed to film The Autobiography of Malcolm X. Lee succeeded. Malcolm X, with Denzel Washington in the title role, was released in 1992. A key film in American culture, it manages to capture the rich tensions in the character of Malcolm X at the same time that it entertains with an involving and dramatic saga. Breathtakingly accurate and evocative performances by Washington and Al Freeman Jr as Elijah M u h a m m a d provide the strong core of the film. Lee attenuates his normally exuberant directorial personality to frame these historic characters with remarkable balance. He catches m a n y of the complexities and ironies that combined to make Malcolm a central hero of the f 960s. Having accomplished this long-sought dream, Lee broadened his purview during the n e x t few years w i t h documentaries (Get on the Bus, i 9 9 6 ; 4 Little Girls, 1997, about the Montgomery bombing in 1963); more general films about urban New York (dockers, 1995, from the Richard Price novel; Summer of Sam, 1999, a n elegy for the late seventies); andyesa basketball movie: He Got Game, 1998, with Denzel Washington). With this wide range of productions u n d e r his belt, Spike Lee ranks as one of the major American filmmakers at the turn of the cen-
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Figure 4 - 9 4 . Cuba Gooding Jr as Tre Styles comforted by Nia Long (Brandi) in John Singleton's morality play about life in South Central Los Angeles, Boyz N the (1991). Hood
t u r y a n d t h e only m e m b e r of t h e p a n t h e o n to achieve t h a t r a n k since t h e 1970s. ff, as we've already noted, Hollywood developed a more international outlook in the 1980s as the rest of world cinema increasingly came within the esthetic orbit of American movies. Throughout the postwar period, as before, a national artistic identity, usually defined in opposition to the Hollywood style, had been a central tenet of European and Third-World cinemas. Although polemicists and politicians continued to give lip service to this concept, the realities of an increasingly interconnected world culture greatly constrained the independence of national cinemas, ff American film found n e w life in the eighties thanks to infusions of n e w capital and technological special-effects life-support systems, such wonder drugs were either not available or contra-indicated for less aggressively marketed national film cultures overseas. As in the U.S., nostalgia predominated in Europe as veteran filmmakers continued along the well-worn tracks laid d o w n for t h e m twenty-five and thirty
"Cinema": Esthetics
Figure 4 - 9 5 . Clarence Williams III and Eve Plumb talk beans with writer-director-star Keenen Ivory Wayans in I'm Gonna Git You Sucka (1988).
years earlier, and younger filmmakers followed dutifully behind. Giuseppe Tornatore's Cinema Paradiso (i990) was meant to be an elegy for the Golden Age of the fifties and sixties European film. However, as The Film Guide points out, "no, they d o n ' t m a k e movies like t h e y used to, a n d this Oscar-winning Italian-French coproduction spends the better part of three hours proving it." Because they shared, at least in part, a c o m m o n language, British filmmakers had long been the prime victims of the Hollywood cultural juggernaut. For a brief m o m e n t in t h e 1980s, h o w e v e r , it looked like a n e n t e n t e had b e e n struck between Los Angeles and London. Producer David Puttnam was at the center of the British campaign throughout the 1980s. He had w o n Oscars for the manipulative Midnight Express (1978) and t h e u n p r e t e n t i o u s Chariots of Fire (1981). Shortly thereafter, he teamed with Goldcrest Films, whose remarkable success from the release of Gandhi in i 982 through The Killing Fields (1984) and A Room with a View (1986) suggested that commercial films, viable in the Hollywood distribution system, could be produced o n a regular basis by British filmmakers. In 1986 Puttnam became head of production at Coca-Cola's Columbia Pictures. By the end of 1987, Puttnam was ousted, and Goldcrest was facing bankruptcy due to under-capitalization and mismanagement. The dream of Hollywood-on-theThames was abruptly ended. But the melody lingered on as British directors increasingly found work in America and as British actors continued to win a disproportionate share of Oscar honors. For those British filmmakers committed to a national cinema, the founding in 1982 of Channel Four, the second independent television network, proved heart-
376
Figure 4 - 9 6 . Angela Basset as Betty Shabazz and Denzel Washington as Malcolm in Spike Lee's profound Malcolm X.
ening. Within a few years, however, the increased production had been absorbed. Nevertheless, filmmakers like Stephen Frears (My Beautiful Laundrette, 1 9 8 5 ; Hero, 1 9 9 2 ) , Mike Leigh (Life Is Sweet, 1 9 9 1 ; Naked, 1 9 9 3 ; Secrets and Lies, 1 9 9 6 ) Bill Forsyth (LocalHero, 1 9 8 3 ) , Bruce Robinson (Withnail&I, 1 9 8 7 ) , and JulienTemple (Earth Girls Are Easy, 1 9 8 9 ) have managed to keep the lines of communication open. Most successful at the acrobatic task of keeping a foot in each camp was Richard A t t e n b o r o u g h , w h o s e prestige productions, from Gandhi to Chaplin ( 1 9 9 2 ) , fit well into the Hollywood pattern at the same time that they continued the tradition of British quality cinema. The most recent British cinematic onslaught was led by versatile actress-writer E m m a Thompson and her erstwhile husband, the audacious actor-director Kenn e t h Branagh. After the prerequisite stint with the Royal Shakespeare Company, Irish-born Branagh intentionally invited comparison with Laurence Olivier by making his film acting/directing debut with a version of Henry V ( 1 9 8 9 ) . This film, together with an equally fresh and accomplished Much Ado About Nothing ( 1 9 9 3 ) , brought n e w life to the Shakespearean film tradition. (His 1 9 9 6 Hamlet suffered from too m a n y production values.) Contemporary dramas like Dead Again ( 1 9 9 1 ) and blockbusters like Wild Wild West ( 1 9 9 9 ) established his range.
Cinema": Esthetics
377
Figure 4-97.
Barry Levinson's
film of the Bernard M a l a m u d novel The Natural captured the baseball myth without m u c h saccharine. Robert Redford was the mystical hero of the Knights.
Thompson starred in most of Branagh's productions and quickly rose to the top tier of film actresses, garnering perennial Oscar nominations. Her most successful work to date has been in the literary films directed by James Ivory: Howards End (1992, from the novel by E. M. Forster), for w h i c h she w o n a n Oscar as best actress, and The Remains of the Day ( i 9 9 3 , from the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro), for which she w o n a nomination. (She also gave us a great Hillary Clinton in Primary Colors, 1998). This w o r k in novel adaptations positioned her to play a central role in the strange Jane Austen craze of the mid-nineties. She collected another Oscar nomination for Sense and Sensibility (1995), while her younger sister, Sophie, starred in Persuasion (1995) and Emma (1996; that's the novel, not the actress), w h e r e she was joined by their mother, Phyllida Law. The Thompson family thus had a hand in three of the five Austen projects that hit world screens within two years, missing appearances only in the BBC/A&E miniseries Pride and Prejudice (1995) and in Amy Heckerling's Clueless (1995), a n update of Emma (the novel, not the film).
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Figure 4-98A. Hollywood turned to France for material all too often in the early 1990s. Here, Anne Parillaud in Luc Besson's international hit of 1 9 9 1 , La Femme Nikita....
W h y a novelist from the beginning of the nineteenth century found renewed popularity at the end of the twentieth is interesting to contemplate. Perhaps postm o d e r n sexual politics are more like pre-Victorian social mores t h a n w e care to admit. Certainly, Austen's novels had proved usable for television miniseries early on. Series of the remaining two of her six works, Northanger Abbey and Mansfield Park, were made in the early eighties after an earlier version of Pride and Prejudice had proved successful in 1 9 7 9 . While historical novels were grist for the miniseries mills of the seventies and eighties, the form was kept alive on the large screen during this period mainly by t h e i n d e p e n d e n t w o r k of J a m e s Ivory, Ismail M e r c h a n t , a n d R u t h P r a w e r Jhabvala. Ivory (American) and Merchant (Indian) formed a producing partnership in 1 9 6 3 to film Polish-Jewish-German-English-Indian Prawer Jhabvala's novel The Householder, about the English experience in India. Shakespeare Wallah ( 1 9 6 3 ) , with a similar theme, brought them some international attention. In the seventies they turned their attention from Anglo-Indian relations to historical novels, gaining some critical success with Henry James's The Europeans ( 1 9 7 9 ) and The Bostonians ( 1 9 8 4 ) before moving on to E. M. Forster: A Room with a View ( i 9 8 6 ) , Maurice ( 1 9 8 7 ) , and finally Howards End ( 1 9 9 2 ) , the recipient of nine Academy Award nominations. It had taken only thirty years of patient work for
Born in G e r m a n y of Polish-Jewish p a r e n t s , R u t h P r a w e r g r e w up in England a n d m a r r i e d an Indian. This b a c k g r o u n d gave h e r a u n i q u e transcultural viewpoint.
Cinema": Esthetics
379
Figure 4 - 9 8 B . ... and Bridget Fonda in the American remake Point of No Return (1993). (Nikita continued as a television series in the late 1990s.)
Hollywood to come around to their point of view. Of course this team had foreshadowed the craze for the English novelist with Jane Austen in Manhattan (1980). The Merchant-Ivory team was challenged in the late 1990s by director J o h n M a d d e n . Coming out of a successful television career h e tested t h e historical waters with Ethan Frome (1992), from the novel by Edith Wharton; then drew critical attention with Mrs Brown (1997), about Queen Victoria's relationship with her hunting manager. Shakespeare in Love (1998) with a witty script by Marc Norm a n and Tom Stoppard and featuring t w o y o u n g American actorsGwyneth Paltrow and Ben Affleckwon seven Academy Awards (having been nominated for thirteen). As w e noted earlier, Australians have also learned to commute between home and Hollywood. Notable n e w talents of recent years include George Miller {Lorenzo's Oil, i993; Babe, 1995) w h o found a world market for his futuristic outback "Western/Road" fantasies Mad Max (1979) and 77K Road Warrior (1981), and Jane Campion, w h o found international critical approbation with An Angel at My Table (1990) and The Piano (1993). In France, le cinema du papa reigns once again as the apprentices of the 1970s have become the j o u r n e y m a n auteurs of the 1980s and 1990s. Adept as ever at bourgeois dramas and comedies (Coline Serreau's Trois hommes et un couffin, Three Men and a Cradle, 1985; remade in English as Three Men and a Baby, 1987) and occasionally finding international success with policiers or films noirs (JeanJacques Beineix's Diva, 1980; Luc Besson's La Femme Nikita, 1991), French filmmakers n o w find themselves in the humbling position of selling remake rights to Hollywood.
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"Cinema": Esthetics
Figure 4 - 9 9 . Roberto Benigni shares a m o m e n t with Giorgio Cantarini a n d Nicoletta Braschi in La Vita e bella (Life Is Beautiful, 1997).
m e n t a r y . C h e n Kaige (Yellow
Earth,
1984; Farewell,
My Concubine,
1993) a n d
former dnematographer Zhang Yimou (Red Sorghum, 1987; Ju Dou, 1989; Raise the Red Lantern, 1991; The Story of Qiu Ju, 1992) have received considerable attention at Western film festivals, as has Gong Li, t h e striking actress w h o was featured in his films. During this period, Latin American a n d African filmmakers h a v e generally been limited to their domestic markets. Occasional films succeed internationally (South African Jamie Uys's The Gods Must Be Crazy, f 98f), b u t the regular flow that produces t h e productive conversation between filmmaker a n d filmgoer h a s n o t existed outside of local borders. By 1980 it was clear that it was n o longer possible to m a k e a distinction between w h a t w e call film and what w e k n o w as video or television. These various forms of audiovisual narrative h a d been seen as separateeven antagonisticfor more t h a n thirty years. N o w they must be regarded as parts of t h e same continuum, indeed, w e need a n e w word to embrace both film a n d tape forms. As video technology continues to grow in sophistication a n d flexibility, "film"makers increasingly will find t h e choice of format more a matter of economics a n d technology than of esthetics. By 1990 it w a s a p p a r e n t t h a t t h e geographical borders that once helped to define t h e art (if n o t the business) of film were disintegrating even more rapidly
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Diagram
K. D I S T R I B U T I O N
WINDOWS.
One or more of the broadcast stages can easily be skipped with n o necessarily significant loss of revenue. In fact, pirating of videotapes and film prints is growing so rapidly that studios are n o w forced into the tape and disc market almost immediately after a film is released theatrically (and certainly before it has been s h o w n on cable, w h o s e widespread distribution offers video pirates irresistible opportunities). Network television gets pushed further back in the line, making it necessary for those companies to pour more m o n e y and talent into made-for-television product (since that is the one type of movie that they can control). They can n o longer depend, as they did in the sixties a n d seventies, on the broadcast of theatrical films to provide the linchpins of their programming schedules. This is also a prime reason w h y networks have tried to enter theatrical production. While commercial filmmakers find themselves confronting a n e w world of anarchic dimensions, thanks to the unplanned effects of technological developments, independent filmmakers can look forward to dramatically increased possibilities in the n e w century. As late as 1978, a filmmaker w h o wished to distribute his or her film had, basically, six choices: the major Hollywood studios. Adjusted for inflation, theatrical box office has continued to decline since the 1970s. The growth of Hollywood in the 1980s and 1990s was fueled first by the rapid expansion of videotape and cable, then by the explosion in the n u m b e r of independent European television stations h u n g r y for product as o n e country after a n o t h e r denationalized its television system, and most recently by the proliferation of DBS satellite systems eager to fill their hundreds of channels. The aggressively marketed technologies of videotape and DVD-Video, cable, and satellite offer refreshing prospects for the independent filmmaker. Theatrical
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Figure
4-100.
Bill Paxton and Cynda Williams in Carl Franklin's One False Move, a direct-to-
distribution is n o w just about as importantor unimportantto a filmmaker as hardcover publication is to a writer. Expanding cable and satellite services combined with DVD-Video and perhaps even video-on-demand dial-up distribution will require even larger amounts of n e w product. And tape and disc offer a direct channel to the public very similar to book publication and record production. The conglomerates still have a lot m o r e m o n e y to spend hyping a product than the independents, but at least the potential exists for a far more democratic system of distribution. The increasing viability of e-commerce on the Internet removes the last barrier between filmmakers and their audiences: availability. On the Web everyone has e n o u g h shelf space and everything is always in stock. N o w w h e n potentially interested customers hear about a movie they k n o w they can get it; they aren't constrained by the limited stock of their local video store. Of course the Web also offers an inexpensive and effective means of publicity as well. The studios realized this immediately. The film industry may have been the last m e d i u m to tap into the power of television advertising in the mid-1970s, but it was among the first to realize the power of the World Wide Web: by 1996 every n e w release had a marketing website. Independent filmmakers can easily afford this kind of marketing, fn the s u m m e r of t999 the producers of The Blair Witch Project, made on the proverbial shoestring budget, were able to generate considerable buzz for the film by using the Web.
"Cinema": Esthetics During the 1960s and 1970s the production of film became significantly more democratic as prices were reduced t h r o u g h technological developments, fn the 1990s, the process of distribution, once the bottleneck, u n d e r w e n t the same sort of democratization. This wasn't planned. In fact, it was nothing more t h a n a (welcome) side effect of the exploitation of n e w hardware in a market that h a d been approaching the saturation point. Nevertheless, it marked a n important n e w stage in the history of film, not only in the U.S. but abroad as well. Economically, t h e t r e n d has b e e n a n d c o n t i n u e s to b e t o w a r d greater access. American studios m a y still dominate the international film market, but at least the potential exists for other countries to join the contestnot by banning American films, which becomes increasingly difficult as technology democratizes t h e process of distribution, b u t by challenging American studios o n their o w n ground, understanding the economic multiplier effects of the export of culture, a n d m a k i n g collective decisions to engage enthusiastically in the development and export of their o w n culture. Technologically, the visual media continue to develop their powers of precision, further opening u p the mysterious technological process to n e w groups of artists. W h a t was once a massive undertaking requiring vast investments of capital is n o w very close to being that personal, flexible instrument of communication that Alexandre Astruc called the "camera-pen." At the same time, the n e w technologies of distribution should allow markedly increased access to a n ever wider and m o r e varied publica public, by the way, w h o will have far greater control over media experiences t h a n they have had in the past. Esthetically, the confluence of these forces is producing a more varied range of cinematic product. The gap between "elite" and "mass" cultures continues to narrow. A n d t h e n i n e t e e n t h - c e n t u r y concept of t h e "avant garde" b e c o m e s less important with each passing year. Finally, the s u m of these forces suggests that it m a y be a good time to a n n o u n c e the end of movies/film/cinemaat least as w e have k n o w n them. From n o w on, "film" is simply a raw material, one of the possible choices, along with disc and tape, available to the media artist. "Movies" are n o w a n integral part of a new, encompassing art, technology, and industry for which w e do not yet have a name, except perhaps "multimedia." And "cinema"? After eighty-five years of dominating the w a y w e view our worlda long, tempestuous, romantic, and rewarding lifecinema has quietly passed on. For the sequel to this story, proceed to Chapter 7.
The Critic
In Mel Brooks's and Ernest Pintoff's funny and insightful short film The Critic (1963), w e watch abstract animated shapes perform o n the screen as w e hear the voice of Brooks, a n old m a n , puzzle his way happily through the significance of this "art": Vot da hell is dis?! M u s ' be a cahtoon. Op.... M u s ' be boith. Dis looks like boith. I r e m e m b e h w h e n I was a boy in Russia ... biology. Op! It's born. Whatever it is, it's born.... Look out! Too late. It's dead already.... Vot's dis? Usher! Dis is cute! Dis is cute. Dis is nice. Vot da hell is it? Oh. I k n o w vot it is. It's gobbage. Dat's vot it is! Two dollas I pay for a French movie, a foreign movie, and n o w I gotta see dis junk! The first shape is joined by a second, and Brooks interprets: Yes. It's two ... two things dat, dat, datthey like each other. Sure. Lookit da sparks. Two things in love! Ya see h o w it got more like?it envied the other thing so m u c h . Could dis be the sex life of two things? The scene changes again and Brooks's old codger begins to lose interest: Vot is dis? Dots! Could be a n eye. Could be anything! It m u s ' be some symbolism. I f i n k ... it's symbolic of... junk! Uh-oh! It's a cock-a-roach! Good luck to you vit ya cock-a-roach, mister! As the artistic short comes to a close, the critic passes final judgment: I d u n n o m u c h about psych'analysis, but I'd say dis is a doity pictcha!
The Critic
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The Critic is h u m o r o u s partly because Brooks manages, in the short space of his t h r e e - m i n u t e monologue, to touch o n a n u m b e r of vital truths about criticism. "Two dollas" w e pay for a movie; w h a t do w e get for it? H o w do w e determine cinematic value? H o w do w e k n o w what's "symbolic of junk"? There are others in the audience w i t h Mel Brooks's critic w h o seem to be enjoying the film. Are values, then, entirely relative? Are there any true universal "rules" for film art? W h a t does film do? W h a t are its limits? Questions like these are the province of film theory a n d criticism, two related b u t n o t identical activities that h a v e as their c o m m o n e n d a n increased understanding of the p h e n o m e n o n of film. In general, theory is the abstraction; criticism is the practice. At the lowest end of the scale, w e find the kind of criticism a reviewer practices: m o r e reportage t h a n analysis. The reviewer's function is to describe the film a n d evaluate it, two relatively simple tasks. At the upper end of the scale is the kind of film theory that has little or nothing to do with the actual practice of film: a n intellectual activity that exists primarily for its o w n sake, and often has its o w n rewards, but doesn't necessarily have m u c h relation to the real world. Between these t w o extremes there is m u c h room for useful and interesting work. A n u m b e r of important dichotomies govern the work of film theory. The first, t h e contrast b e t w e e n the practical a n d t h e ideal, is suggested by t h e difference between criticism (practical) and theory (ideal). Closely associated with this is the contrast between "prescriptive" and "descriptive" theory a n d criticism. The prescriptive theorist is concerned with w h a t film should be, the descriptive theorist only with w h a t film is. Prescriptive theory is inductive: that is, the theorist decides o n a system of values first, t h e n measures actual films against his system. Descriptive theory, in contrast, is deductive: the theorist examines the entire range of film activity and then, and only then, draws tentative conclusions about the real nature of film. Theorists and critics w h o prescribe are naturally concerned about evaluation; having strong systems of values, they logically measure real films against their requirements a n d judge them. The third a n d most important governing dichotomy is that b e t w e e n theory a n d practice. The fact is, n o filmmaker needs to study the theory in order to practice the art. Indeed, until recently, very few filmmakers had any interest in theory. They k n e w (or did not know) instinctively w h a t had to be done. Gradually, h o w ever, as film art became more sophisticated, a bridge between theory and practice was established. M a n y contemporary filmmakers, unlike their predecessors, n o w proceed from strong theoretical bases. Even Hollywood offices are n o w full of cine m a studies Ph.D.s; since the generation of Coppola, Scorsese, a n d Lucas (film school students all) took charge, advanced degrees have provided a n important entree in the studio system.
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T h e P o e t a n d the Philosopher: Lindsay a n d Miinsterberg behavior and respectabilityas it struggled to be treated as a n equal, a n d mastered its natural libidinous impulses. "Standards" w e r e necessary, and film theorists provided t h e m . N o w that film theory has matured, it is m u c h less likely to insist on rules and regulations often derived from outside the domain of film itself a n d instead concentrates o n developing its o w n more flexible and more sophisticated values. Within any specific film theory, there are a n u m b e r of oppositions at work. Is the theory mainly esthetic or mainly philosophical? Does it deal with the relationships of parts of cinema to each other, or the parts of a specific film to each other? Or does it concern itself with the relationships between film and culture, film and the individual, film and society? Sergei Eisenstein, still the most fecund of film theorists, used cinematic terminology to describe the difference between various approaches to film study. In his 1945 essay "A Close-up View" h e described "long-shot" film theory as that which deals w i t h film in context, w h i c h judges its political a n d social implications. " M e d i u m - s h o t " film criticism, m e a n w h i l e , focuses o n t h e h u m a n scale of the film, which is w h a t most reviewers concern themselves with. "Close-up" theory, however, "'breaks d o w n ' the film into its parts" and "resolves the film into its elements." Film semiotics and other theories that attempt to treat the "language" of film, for example, are close-up approaches. The essential concept here is the classic opposition between form and function. Are w e more interested in w h a t a film is (form) or in h o w it acts u p o n us (function)? As w e shall see, it was quite a while before film theory turned from a focus o n the form of the art to the more difficult and meaningful analysis of its function. Gradually, prescription has yielded to more scientific methods of investigation as film theory has become less demanding and more inquisitive.
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"The temptation to increase the size of t h e screen," h e writes, for example, "goes with the desire for colored, stereoscopic, a n d s o u n d film. It is the wish of people w h o do not k n o w that artistic effect is b o u n d u p with the limitations of the medium...." Yet as those n e w dimensions were added to the repertoire of film art, filmmakers discovered m o r e freedom, not less, a n d the range of possible artistic effects expanded considerably. Basically, the difficulty with Arnheim's theory of limitations is that h e focuses all too narrowly o n the production of film and doesn't take into account the liberating a n d complicating factor of its perception. M a n y of the limitations h e lists
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Expressionism a n d Realism: A r n h e i m and Kracauer of the p h e n o m e n o n during the fifteen years preceding Kracauer's book, his work was never so clearly codified as Kracauer's and therefore hasn't until recently had the direct impact of his successor's. Throughout most of film history, Realism has b e e n of more interest to practical filmmakers t h a n theoretical critics. Dziga Vertov in the Soviet Union in the 1920s, J e a n Vigo in F r a n c e , a n d J o h n Grierson in E n g l a n d in t h e 1930s, R o b e r t o Rossellini, Cesare Zavattini, and the Neorealists in Italy in the 1940s, all developed Realist positions in opposition to Expressionist theories. It was as if the filmmakers reacted against the potential abuse of p o w e r of their m e d i u m , instead searching for a more "moral" position in Realism. At the center of Arnheim's theory h a d b e e n the limitations of the technology and the form of film art. The kernel of Kracauer's theory is the photographic "calling" of film art. Simply because photography and film do come so close to reproducing reality, they must emphasize this ability in their esthetics. This premise is diametrically o p p o s e d to A r n h e i m ' s . "Film," K r a c a u e r w r o t e , "is u n i q u e l y equipped to record a n d reveal physical reality and, hence, gravitates toward it." Therefore, h e suggests, content must take precedence over form. He t h e n develops w h a t h e calls a material esthetic rather t h a n a n esthetic of form. Because theories of art depend so heavily o n formalism, then, film becomes for Kracauer a kind of antiart. "Due to its fixed meaning," h e concludes, "the concept of art does not, a n d cannot, cover truly 'cinematic' filmsfilms, that is, w h i c h incorporate aspects of physical reality with a view to making us experience them. And yet it is they, n o t the films reminiscent of traditional art works, w h i c h are valid esthetically." This is t h e third stage of the psychological development of film as art. After having established itself as respectable in its adolescence, t h e n having joined the community of the arts in its young adulthood by showing h o w like t h e m it really was, it n o w moves into maturity, exerting its "ego integrity" by separating itself from the c o m m u n i t y a n d establishing its o w n personal system of values. If film doesn't fit the definition of art, t h e n the definition of art must be changed. Having celebrated film's uniqueness, Kracauer t h e n m a k e s a crucial logical j u m p . Since it can reproduce reality so well, h e suggests, it ought to. It is at this point that his theory is most open to contradiction. It would be just as easy to propose (as Arnheim does in a way) that, since film and reality have such a close and intimate connection, film ought to exercise this mimetic p o w e r in t h e opposite way: by contradicting, molcling, forming, shaping reality rather t h a n reproducing it. Nevertheless, after these first significant pronouncements, Kracauer moves o n into a m o r e general and more objective study of the m e d i u m of film. The logical end point of his primary contention about the close relationship of film and reality would be to elevate the film record, the nonfiction film, and the documentary over the fictional film. Yet Kracauer, as w e have noted, pays relatively little atten-
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The words "Expressionism" a n d "Formalism" are often used interchangeably in film criticism to denote those tendencies generally opposed to "Realism." Both Expressionism and Formalism are also labels attached to specific periods of cultural history: Expressionism was the major force in German culturein theater and painting as well as filmduring the 1920s, just as, during the same period, Formalism marked the burgeoning cultural lifeboth literary and cinematicin the Soviet Union. Essentially, the difference between the two movements depends o n a slight but significant shift of focus. Expressionism is a more generalized, romantic conception of film as a n expressive force. Formalism is more specific, more "scientific," and more concerned with the elements, the details that go to m a k e u p this force. It is more analytic and less synthetic, and it also carries with it a strong sense of the importance of function as well as form in art.
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E I S E N S T E I N ' S POTEMKIN:
Figure 5 - 1 . As the people of Odessa gather to hail the rebellious soldiers on the battleship Potemkin in the harbor, soldiers appear. The crowd runs down the steps in horror as the soldiers fire. A young boy is hit and killed. His mother picks him up in her arms and turns to face the soldiers at the top of the steps....
Figure 5-2. ... As she advances, pleading with t h e m , they prepare to fire. The officer lowers his saber and a volley is fired, cutting down the mother and child. The crowd runs down the steps, trampling those w h o have fallen....
E I S E N S T E I N ' S POTEMKIN:
Figure 5-3. ... As they reach the pathway at the bottom, they are attacked by mounted Cossacks. The people are caught in the pincers between the rank of soldiers relentlessly advancing down the steps, and the Cossacks who whip and trample t h e m . Eisenstein cuts between shots of the victims and shots of the oppressors. A w o m a n with a baby carriage is hit near the top of the steps. As she falls, she nudges the carriage over the first step....
Figure 5-4. ... It careens down the steps over corpses, as people watch in terror, until il reaches the bottom step and overturns. (All stills I'Avant-Scene. Frame enlargements.)
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Like Eisenstein, Andre Bazin was engaged in a continual process of revfsion a n d reevaluation as his short career progressed from the m i d - i 940s to his early death in 1958 at the age of thMy-nine. Unlike nearly all other authors of major film theories, Bazin was a working critic w h o wrote regularly about individual films. His theory is expressed mainly in four volumes of collected essays (Qu'est-ce que le cinema?) published in the years immediately succeeding his death (selected a n d translated in two volumes: What Is Cinema?). It is deeply imbued with his practical, deductive experience. With Bazin, for the first time, film theory becomes not a matter of p r o n o u n c e m e n t and prescription but a fully mature intellectual activity, well aware of its o w n limitations. The very title of Bazin's collected essays reveals
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Nevsky (1938): the Battle on the Ice. The Russian army is most striking sequences. (I'Avant-Scene. Frame
in position to defend against the German invaders. Battle scenes, with their strong visual Eisenstein's
the modesty of this approach. For Bazin, the questions are more important t h a n the answers. With roots in his background as a student of phenomenology, Bazin's theories are clearly Realist in organization, but once again the focus has shifted. If Formalism is the m o r e sophisticated, less pretentious cousin of Expressionism, perhaps w h a t Bazin is after should be called "Functionalism" rather t h a n simply Realism, for running throughout his argument is the important idea that film has significance not for w h a t it is but for w h a t it does. For Bazin, Realism is m o r e a matter of psychology t h a n of esthetics. He does not m a k e a simple equation between film and reality, as does Kracauer, but rather describes a more subtle relationship between the two in which film is the asymptote to reality, the imaginary line that the geometric curve approaches but never touches. He began one of his earliest essays, "The Ontology of the Photographic Image," by suggesting: "If the plastic arts were put under psychoanalysis, the practice of embalming the dead might turn out to be a fundamental factor in their creation." The arts arose, h e contends, because "other forms of insurance w e r e ... sought." That primal m e m o r y of embalming lives on in photography and cinema,
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The New Wave, edited by Peter Graham, contains two essays of note: "The Birth of a New Avant Garde: La Camera-Stylo," by Alexandre Astruc; and "La Politique des auteurs," by Andre Bazin; both quoted in this section.
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T H E S I G N F O R C E S U S TO S E E A N O B J E C T T H R O U G H I T S S I G N I F I C A N C E .
Figure 5-6. Philosopher Brice Parain chats with Anna Karina about freedom and communication in Godard's My Life to Live (1962).
Figure 5-7. MISE-EN-SCENE AS VIEW. Godard in "Camera-Eye" (Far from Vietnam, (Frame 1967). enlargement.)
Figure 5-8. "Rosy" and "Raoul," consumer collages, in Les Carabiniers (1963).
T H E S I G N F O R C E S U S TO S E E A N O B J E C T T H R O U G H I T S
SIGNIFICANCE
Figure 5-9. Le Gai Savoir (1968). Juliet B e r t o a n d Jean-Pierre Leaud in the m i d dle of the dark television studio engage in discussions that aren't broadcast. [Frame enlargement.)
Figure 5-10. Juliet Berto, in Weekend (1968), is caught between the two unruly forces of the film, sex and energy, a bra ad and the Esso tiger. (Frame enlargement.)
Figure 5 - 1 1 . Recalling the long tracking shot in Weekend (see Figure 3-65) past the endless line of stalled autos, this opening sequence from British Sounds (1969) objectively follows the construction of a car on the assembly line. The soundtrack is a screech of machinery, as the workers are seen only as parts of the larger machine. The fabrication of the car is as painful as traffic accidents. In both the Weekend and British Sounds tracking shots, mise-en-scene becomes an ideological tool: it is experienced and thus felt, whereas montage is analytical: because it summarizes for us, it does not encourage us to work out our own logic. M o n tage draws conclusions; miseen-scene asks questions. (Frame enlargement.)
T H E S I G N F O R C E S U S TO S E E A N O B J E C T T H R O U G H
ITS S I G N I F I C A N C E .
Figure 5-12. In Vladimir and Rosa (1971), Godard (left) and his collaborator Jean-Pierre Gorin (right) set up the "dialectic of the tennis court." The elements of the dialectic are, variously: Vladimir (Lenin) and Rosa (Luxemburg), Jean-Luc (Godard) and Jean-Pierre (Gorin), sound and image, American experience and French practice, filmmakers (here) and filmwatchers (also here by implication). {Frame enlargement.)
Figure 5-13. An essay on the trial of the Chicago 8, Vladimir and Rosa paid close attention to the function of the media. "Bobby X" (Godard/Gorin's character for the real-life Bobby Seale) is gagged and bound in the courtroom (as he was in real life). To demonstrate the absence of Bobby X for the media, the group of revolutionaries in the movie set up a press conference for him. But he can't appear. He speaks from a tape recorder set up on a red chair. Looking for a dramatic story, the television cameras are forced to cover a less exciting idea-, the struggle between sound and image. In this shot, sound finally gets its own image! (Frame enlargement.)
Figure 5-14. The tracking shot in the supermarket at the end of Tout va bien is equally as long (and as exhilarating) as the earlier shot in Weekend. Godard's cameras moves inexorably past a huge rank of twenty-four cash registers, most of t h e m clanging away, as the group of young gauchistes stages a political event in the market: production versus consumptionof images as well as products. {Frame enlargement.)
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PARADIGMATIC
skirt
SYNTAGMATIC AXIS
the p u r e intellectual creativity a n d the subtlety of technique of its practitioners. Metz, for example, has a droll, eloquent sense of h u m o r that does m u c h to meliorate his often florid theorizing. Umberto Eco, next to Metz the most prominent of film semioticians, outlined four stages of the development of the science since the early sixties. The first stage, which according to Eco lasted until the early seventies, was m a r k e d by w h a t h e calls "the o v e r v a l u a t i o n of the linguistic mode." As semiotics struggled to achieve legitimacy, it clung tightly to the accepted patterns of the study of linguistics that h a d preceded it. (In the same way, the earliest stages of film theory h a d rnimicked that of the older arts.) The second stage began w h e n semioticians started to realize that their system of analysis was not so simple and universal as they would have liked to believe at first. During the third stagethe early seventiessemiotics concentrated o n the study of o n e specific aspect of the universe of meaning in film: production. The semiotics of the process, of the making of texts, was central here, and political ideology became part of the semiotic equation. The fourth stagebeginning in 1975saw attention shift from production to consumption, from the making of texts to the perception of t h e m . In this stage, film semiotics was greatly influenced by the approach to Freudian psychology of the French sage Jacques Lacan.
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r
DOMAIN OF CINEMA Specific cinematic codes: Montage, for example Non-specitic : cinematic Shared codes: Mise en scene, for example
HHll i lighting,
Having b e g u n with a quasi-scientific system that purported to quantify and offered the prospect of complete a n d exact analysis of the p h e n o m e n o n of film, semiotics gradually worked its w a y backward to the basic question that has puzzled all s t u d e n t s of film: h o w do w e k n o w w h a t w e see? Along t h e way, by rephrasing old questions in n e w ways, semiotics contributed significantly to the c o m m o n struggle to understand the nature of film. We n o w might w a n t to add a fifth stageespecially in England and the United States: the academic establishment of semiotics. During the past few years, this once elegant system of thought has produced little of real intellectual value. At the same time, it has become a useful tool for academic careerists interested more in publishing before they perish t h a n in increasing our understanding of film theory. Because it is inherently, defiantly abstruse, semiotics is especially dangerous in this regard. In the hands of elegant stylists like Metz, Eco (who later moved on to write popular novels), or Roland Barthes (whose books of essays w e r e their o w n ends), the tools of semiotics can produce attractive and enlightening discursions. But lesser acolytes can get away with a lot here. Anyone intending to read semiotics should be forewarned: just because y o u can't u n d e r s t a n d it doesn't m e a n it means anything. M u c h of Christian Metz's earliest work was concerned with setting u p the premises of a semiotics of film. It would seem that the fact of montage offers the eas-
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DOMAIN OF CINEMA
D O M A I N OF WESTERNS
Finally, codesany codescan be broken d o w n into subcodes; there is a hierarchy of codes. The system is elegantly simple: film is all t h e possible sets of these codes; a specific film is a limited n u m b e r of codes a n d sets of codes. Genres, careers, studios, national characters, techniques, a n d every other element ever suggested by previous film theorists, critics, historians, a n d students can be broken d o w n into code systems. Codes are t h e things w e read in films.
DOMAIN OF CINEMA
Code: Montage
Code: lighting
Subcode: flashback
(Other codes)
Along with other semioticians, Metz in t h e late seventies moved o n to a discussion of t h e psychology of filmic perception, most successfully in his long essay "The Imaginary Signifier," w h i c h appeared simultaneously in both French a n d English i n 1975. D r a w i n g o n basic F r e u d i a n t h e o r y as r e p h r a s e d by Jacques Lacan, h e psychoanalyzed n o t only t h e cinematic experience b u t also cinema
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i il
IN H E MDOLE OF THINGS
MD EI A
Community
Despite the rambunctious proliferation of electronic media during the last half of the twentieth century, film, that great nineteenth-century invention, still predominates. As a group, Hollywood producers spend most of their time a n d m a k e most of their m o n e y doing television. In Europe, "film" wouldn't exist if television networks didn't help fund it. The greatest financial success any filmmaker or actor can have is not a theatrical blockbuster but a long-mrming television series. Even within the feature film business itself, considerably more t h a n half the income from a n average production n o w comes from television and video distribution, not from theaters. Film is at the hot center of this mix of businesses a n d technologies; clearly it should be seen in the context of the broader communications and entertainment i n d u s t r y k n o w n collectively as "the m e d i a . " W e ' v e a l l u d e d to this c o n t e x t t h r o u g h o u t ; n o w it's t i m e to e x a m i n e it in m o r e detail. Video t e c h n o l o g y is important because of its continuing, ever-growing impact o n the art of movies. The history of television a n d the other electronic media provides the backdrop for the continuing story of film ... and leads inexorably to its future. One of the more succinct analyses of the differences that define the various techniques of communication k n o w n collectively as "the media" lies in a series of pieces written by Samuel Beckett in the 1960s. In Play, Film, Eh Joe, Cascando, and Words and Music, the playwright/novelist/poet/critic, w h o wrote in both French and English, captured the essence of each form.
Community
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Figure 6 - 1 . George Rose in Beckett's Eh, Joe (New York Television Theatre, April 18, 1966. Producer: Glenn Jordan; director: Alan Schneider). {Grove Press, Frame enlargement kinescope of recording.)
Play presents three characters immobilized o n stage in urns. As the stream-ofconsciousness dialogue flows back and forth from one to the other, a sharp, precise spotlight follows the "action"or comments on it. Beckett's abstract design of the stage focuses our attention on the element of choice that the observer controls in this m e d i u m while it emphasizes that physical action is minor. For Beckett, the stage play is deep-focus mise-en-scene, not controlled montage. Film, o n the contrary, develops the dialectic b e t w e e n filmmaker and subject that Beckett sees as essential to that medium. As directed by Alan Schneider and acted by Buster Keaton, Film is the silent abstract representation of the drama that goes o n not between characters, but between filmmaker and actor. Alone o n the screen throughout most of the film. Keaton is nevertheless not alone in the narrative, for the camera is made to appear as a very real presence, and Keaton's struggle to avoid its all-seeing eye is t h e m e of the dramatic design. Play emphasizes the interaction between and a m o n g characters and the relative freedom of the observer to mold the experience. Film, on the other hand, emphasizes the solitude of the subject, the drama between subject and artist, and the observer's relative lack of involvement in the process. Eh Joe, a teleplay, is a n equally insightfuf analysis of the essential elements of television. Lasting about forty-five minutes, the piece contrasts the audio and the video components of the television experience. "Joe," the subject of the play, is seen on the screen in a single sequence shot that progresses over the course of the play from a relatively long shot showing most of the room that is the set, to full shot, to mid-shot, and finally to a long, extremely slow tracking closeup that gradually and inexorably moves from a full head shot to an extreme closeup of eyes, nose, and m o u t h . On the soundtrack, a woman's voice, speaking to Joe, intones a continuing stream-of-consciousness monologue.
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P r i n t a n d Electronic Media appearing o n a regular schedule, that suggested the second vital element of the media (a corollary of the first)the open channel of communication. Books are produced in quantity, but they are each singular events, limited to their subjects. Newspapers and magazines are open, in both time a n d space, to continuing a n d various uses. Although print was immediately recognized as a socially revolutionary force, it was not until the nineteenth century and the rise of a massive literate middle class that printing realized its full potential as a m e d i u m . It took us collectively a lot longer to learn to read print t h a n to learn to read films. Significantly, the rise of the electronic media in the twentieth century was m u c h m o r e rapid, since n o particular skill was required for comprehension. Print media also benefited from technological advances in the latter half of the n i n e t e e n t h century. The steam-powered press h a d b e e n developed by Friedrich Konig in 1810; rotary presses, which operated continuously rather t h a n intermittently, date from the 1840s t h r o u g h the 1860s. Richard M a r c h Hoe is credited with inventing the first rotary press in 1846. Twenty years later, the stereotype printing plate was first p a t e n t e d in England. The combination of steam power, rotary design, a n d one-piece stereotype plates greatly increased the speed a n d flexibility of presses. The typewriter, invented by C. L. Sholes in 1867 a n d first produced by Remington in 1874, and the Linotype typesetting machine, invented in 1884 by Ottmar Mergenthaler, m a d e t h e preparatory processes m u c h m o r e efficient. In 1880, the New York Graphic printed the first halftone photographs, although it was a decade and more before this important technique gained wide acceptance a m o n g newspapers a n d magazines. Earlier technological developments in printing h a d b e e n quantitative: they increased the speed a n d flexibility of the process, b u t they did n o t affect its basic nature. The halftone process, o n the other hand, was a qualitative advance, making the reproduction of photographs a n integral part of the technique of printing. It was at this point, more t h a n a h u n d r e d years ago, that the long courtship between print and image began. It is n o w being consummated in the marriage k n o w n as "multimedia." The basic problem with reproducing photographs in print was that the photographic process produces a continual a n d infinitely variable range of tones from white t h r o u g h gray to black, while the printing process is essentially "binary" any given space o n a printed page is either white or black; there are n o gradations in b e t w e e n . The technique of the halftone solved this problem in a n ingenious m a n n e r : the continuous space of the photograph was broken u p into discrete parWe are using the word "binary" here in its philosophical sense, not its mathematical sense, although the thinking behind the invention of binary digital computers years later has the same flavor.
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Figure 6-2. HALFTONE SCREENS. The 3 5 lines per inch and 55 Ipi screens are too coarse for anything except special effects. The 8 5 screen is standard for newspapers. 133 is the most c o m m o n screen for books. (The halftones in this book use 133.) The 150 Ipi screen is used in special applicationssuch as medical illustrationswhere the finest detail is essential. The shadings at the bottom are used in design. The diagrams in this book, for example, use 2 0 , 4 0 , and 6 0 percent screens. The shading is accomplished not by changing screen frequency, but by increasing the size of each dot within the pattern. See also Figure 2-2F.
Advertisingcrucial to the operation of a capitalist economic systemhas had a profound effect on life patterns during the past i 5 0 years. Because the permanent record of the society is kept in the media, it quickly became evident that not only manufacturers but also politicians and public figures had to advertise if their ideas were to be taken seriously by large numbers of people. This led to the develo p m e n t of the publicity and public relations industries, which are closely allied with advertising. Moreover, advertising itself has become such a sophisticated industry that the tail n o w often wags the dog: ad agencies participate directly in the creation of products, not only identifying opportunities but also sometimes inventing markets for n e w products w h e r e n o n e existed before by establishing a sense of need in consumers. Caught up in this complex economic system are the secondary, noneconomic functions of the media: the distribution of news, entertainment, and information. The " n e w s hole"that space in a n e w s p a p e r or magazine set aside for actual news reportsis often as small as 25 percent of the total space available. In other words, three-quarters of the communicating ability of a print m e d i u m in the U.S. is often devoted to advertising. This veritable deluge is a major factor in determining shared systems of values in contemporary societies. Communication used to take place mainly o n a personal level: the largest n u m b e r of people one was able to reach was determined by t h e capacity of the m e e t i n g place. But t h e rise of t h e print media greatly
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Figure 6-3. LEDS, DOT MATRIXES, AND BEYOND. The halftone was the first historical instance of the merger of print and visual technology. It set a pattern for future development. By the early seventies, for example, w h e n computer electronic readouts were developed for consumer and professional applications, two versions of simplified alphanumeric representations were standardized. Above, the seven-segment LED ("light-emitting diode") made possible readable n u m b e r s c o m p o s e d of only seven switchable elements, a considerable simplificationand a nice job of analysis. (Notice that in the " e n h a n c e d " LED examples the design of the elements has been modified slightly to improve the readability of the numbers.) Such a system wouldn't work for the more complex alphabet, however, so the dot matrix printer was developed to display Roman letters in readable f o r m . The most c o m m o n version used 3 5 dots arrayed 5 x 7 to prod u c e all the letters of the alphabet. The introduction of the graphically oriented Macintosh c o m p u t e r in 1 9 8 4 a n d its a c c o m panying Postscript-based LaserWriter printer in 1985 brought a measure of readability to computer screens and printouts, establishing standards of 7 2 dots per inch for the screen and 3 0 0 dots per inch for the printout, levels of resolution just good enough to allow the introduction of simplified versions of modern type fonts. For purposes of comparison, this book was set at a resolution of 2 6 0 0 dots per inch.
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Figure 6-4. BROADCASTING, NARROWCASTING, AND POINT-TO-POINT TRANSMISSION. T h e s e various s y s t e m s of transmission follow the logic of "one to many," "one to a few," and "one to o n e . " What a b o u t "many to one"? Online bulletin boards and forums fit that logic.
This t r e n d began in the late sixties. In 1968, t h e FCC's Carterfone decision opened u p the telephone system to competition. About the same time, Philips's audiocassette recorder was introduced, bringing simple a n d affordable audio recording techniques to the masses for the first time. In the early seventies, the spread of xerography and offset printing opened u p pubhshing to nonprofessionals. In the late seventies, the introduction of the videocassette recorder extended mass recording capability to video. But all of this was only preparation for the profound microcomputer revolution of the 1980s. Begirrning with "desktop puMshing" a n d moving o n rapidly to "desktop presentations," by the early nineties, the micro delivered into the hands of children media production p o w e r that even professionals h a d only d r e a m e d about a few years earlier. Today, anyone can produce a book, film, record, tape, magazine, or newspaper with less training t h a n it takes to fix a leaky faucet. But can these newly e m p o w ered producers of media get their work read, seen, or heard by large numbers of people? So long as the work is specialized and directed to a sharply focused audience, this is n o problem. But the writer, filmmaker, "tapemaker," or "discmaker" w h o wants to communicate with the general public often has considerable difficulty. The democratization of distribution is taking longer, although the Internet is b e g i n n i n g to s h o w us h o w t h e distribution of complex m e d i a can be accom-
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Figure 6-5. CELLULAR TELEPHONY. The increasing sophistication of computerized telephone switching systems allowed the commercial introduction of cellular telephony in 1983. Radiotelephones had been in use for many years, but the limited bandwidth of the radio spect r u m made t h e m uneconomical. The Citizen's Band radio craze of the mid-seventies pointed to an ingenious solution to the problem, elegant in its simplicity. CB let millions become broadcasters because it radically limited their power, and therefore, their range: thousands could share each channel because they were separated geographically. Similarly, cellular telephony dramatically multiplied the n u m b e r of channels available by limiting the broadcast range to a few city blocks. The twist? Sophisticated switching systems pass a call signal from one transmitter and channel to another as the caller moves. By the early 1990s in the U.S. car phones were c o m m o n , a n d middle-class teenagers prided themselves on their beepers. By the late 1990s personal cell phones were pervasive in the U.S. and even more popular in Europe. The next step? Detach the n u m b e r from the device and attach it to the person, utilizing similar intelligent networks to shunt a call to whatever device happens to be closest at h a n d .
plished with the same ease w i t h which w e m a k e a telephone call. We'll discuss these developments in further detail in Chapter 7. As the producers of media gain m o r e freedom, do the consumers benefit? A close examination of the "Relationships of Media" chart leads to some interesting conclusions. Physical items such as books, newspapers, magazines, records, a n d tapes have considerable advantage over the broadcast media. They are produced a n d distributed discretely, so the consumer can exercise choice m o r e easily. The consumer also controls the experience of these media: one can listen to a record, read a book, or watch a videodisc as frequently as one likes at whatever speed one prefers. O n t h e o t h e r h a n d , t h e salient characteristic of t h e broadcast m e d i a a s opposed to the physical mediais their rigidity. Access is severely restricted, even
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Figure 6-6. THE MECHANICAL PHONOGRAPH. The crank supplies the energy, the mainspring stores it, the gears transmit it. The grooves of the record store the signal, the stylus transmits it, the diaphragm translates it from mechanical vibration into sound, the horn amplifies it.
view to include all forms of electronic communication. Interestingly, despite the increasing abstraction of the electronic media, the physical networks built at great cost during the past h u n d r e d years remain invaluable assets.* Samuel Morse h a d p a t e n t e d a telegraph apparatus in 1840. It w a s a simple device for carrying a signal t h r o u g h wires via electrical energy. It had, however, only two "words": the current was either on, or off. Morse's dot-dash code made useful communication possible, but a more flexible system was needed. Bell's telephone added a significant dimension to electrical technology: it was the first invention to translate sound waves analogously into electrical waves and back again to sound. Bell began with a n amplifying h o r n similar in principle to Edison's, but h e thought to translate the sound waves into a n electrical m e d i u m rather t h a n a physical m e d i u m . This enabled the telephone to transmit its message immediately. The " m i c r o p h o n e " consists of h o r n , diaphragm, a n d a collection of carbon g r a n u l e s in direct contact w i t h t h e d i a p h r a g m . As t h e d i a p h r a g m m o v e s in "Networks" come in many forms. One of the more ingenious strategies of the new long-distance telephone companies competing with AT&T in the 1980s was to contract with the moribund railroads to lay fiber-optic cable along their rights-ofway between cities.
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Figure 6-7. Alexander Graham Bell demonstrated his first working telephone system on May 11, 1877, at the Hotel St. Denis at Broadway and Eleventh Street in Greenwich Village, two blocks from where the American Mutoscope and Biograph Co. would set up shop twenty years later and not much farther from Edison's dynamo on Fifth Avenue. The switches required to make the telephone more than an intercom took time to develop. A hundred years later, the buildingno longer a hotel, the theatrical center having moved uptownprovided offices for numerous filmmakers and publishersand later, Silicon Alley new media companies. This edition of How To Read a Film was produced here, just down the hall from where Bell rang up the new age.
response to the s o u n d waves that impinge o n it, the carbon particles are compressed to a greater or lesser extent so that their electrical resistance varies in response to the acoustic pressure. This variance produces corresponding fluctuations in a n electrical current passing t h r o u g h the carbon granules. At the other e n d of the transmission, a "speaker" translates the electrical signal back into a sound signal by a slightly different process: passed through a n electromagnet, the electrical signal varies the intensity of the magnet, which in t u r n controls the fluctuation of a metallic diaphragm whose movements re-create the sound waves. By the 1890s, the telephone was in wide use. As important as it was, Bell's microphone-speaker system would have had limited usefulness without the conc u r r e n t d e v e l o p m e n t of b o t h ingenious switching e q u i p m e n t a n d amplifying devices. The concept of amplification that allowed the telephone signal to travel greater distances led directly to a host of twentieth-century electronic devices. The theory that developed out of the telephone switching system, which allowed any
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Figure 6-8. THE ELECTRICAL TRANSMISSION OF SOUND. The telephone is the simplest device for translating sound energy into electrical energy, then back again, but the principle described here is the basis for all sound transmission. The key concepts are the carbon granule construction of the microphone (or mouthpiece) which translates sound waves into electric waves, the repeating coila simple transformerwhich acts as an amplifier, and the electromagnet-diaphragm combination of the loudspeaker (or earpiece) which translates the electrical signal back into sound.
one p h o n e In the system to be connected with any other, directly foreshadowed computer technology and modern systems theory. M e a n w h i l e , Heinrich Hertz, while conducting experiments that confirmed James Clerk Maxwell's electromagnetic theory, h a d discovered a w a y to produce electromagnetic radiation at will. The spectrum of electromagnetic radiation, which runs in frequency from 0 cycles per second as high as 1 0 cycles per second, includes a wide range of useful p h e n o m e n a including visible light, heat, X rays, infrared radiation, ultraviolet radiation, a n d radio waves. It was the radio section of the spectrum that first intrigued inventors. Two facts w e r e significant about electromagnetic radiation: first, that electromagnetic waves n e e d e d n o preexisting physical m e d i u m (like s o u n d w a v e s ) t h e y could b e t r a n s m i t t e d t h r o u g h a v a c u u m ; second, t h a t t r a n s m i t t e r s a n d receivers could be " t u n e d " to transmit or receive only waves of a certain frequency. A radio transmitter or receiver could thus be tuned to transmit or receive o n any one of a large n u m b e r of channels, a great advance over the telegraphic/ telephonic systems, whose channels were limited to the n u m b e r of wires attached to each, and the sophistication of the switching system. A young Italian, Guglielmo Marconi, was the first of a n u m b e r of experimenters to perfect a workable system of radiotelegraphy. In 1896 and 1897 h e demonstrated his "wireless" telegraph in England, and soon powerful corporations were formed to exploit the commercial value of the invention. Unlike telegraph cables, radio signals were not subject to sabotage: the military value of the invention was seen immediately.
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Figure 6-9. T H E E L E C T R O M A G N E T I C
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waves is 3 0 0 , 0 0 0 kilometers per second, most electromagnetic waves have extremely high frequencies. Even the longest radio waveswith wavelengths measured in kilometershave frequencies on the order of hundreds of cycles per second. The shortest electromagnetic w a v e s g a m m a rayshave wavelengths measured in billionths of a centimeter, frequencies measured in sextillion cycles per second. The most important bands in the spectrum are those occupied by visible light and the radio s p e c t r u m , which is further divided arbitrarily into a n u m b e r of bands allocated for special uses.
Yet, like Morse's system, Marconi's could not carry complex sound signals, only "on-off" code. The telephone translated sound waves into electrical waves that were carried in the m e d i u m of the wire, but the "wireless" already depended on a wave system as the medium; h o w could another wave system (the signal) be carried by the wave system of the medium? Reginald Fessenden, a Canadian, was one of the first to solve this problem. His idea was to superimpose the signal wave on the carrier wave; in other words, to " m o d u l a t e " t h e carrier w a v e . This is t h e basic concept of radio a n d television transmission. Since there are two variables associated with a wave"amplitude" or strength, a n d "frequency" or "wavelength"there were t w o possibilities for modulation: hence the current AM (Amplitude Modulation) and FM (Frequency Modulation) systems of broadcasting. At first, Fessenden's theory seemed impractical. Lee DeForest's invention of the "audion" tube in 1906 was crucial. It provided a simple way to modulate the carrier frequency. It was also very useful for the job of amplification. With the audion tube, electronics was born. The system, however, was still fairly crude. It became evident that the carrier frequency and its modulated signal had to be coaxed, filtered, strengthened, a n d otherwise aided. Edwin H. Armstrong's Regenerative Circuit and Superheterodyne Circuit (1912, 1918) were among the first and most important such devices.
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light, or radio, is measured in three dimensions: amplitude, wavelength, and frequency. The amplitude is the strength of the wave. Wavelength and frequency are interconnected. Frequencies are measured in cycles (or wavelengths) per second, known as "Hertz." Therefore, a sound wave with a length of 11 feet will have a frequency of 100 cps; likewise a sound wave 5 1/2 feet long will have a frequency of 200 cps. To "modulate" a signal means to impose another signal upon it. It's logical that there are two ways to do this: either modulate the amplitude, or modulate the frequency (which is the same thing as modulating the wavelength). A M is illustrated in B: the carrier wave is indicated by the shaded ribbon band. The program signal has been imposed upon it. FM is visualized in C.
The idea that an electronic signal could be modified by circuitry became one of the defining concepts of the twentieth century. DeForest's audion v a c u u m tube was the workhorse of circuitry until the invention of the transistor in 1948 by J o h n Bardeen, W. Ff. Brattain, and William Shockley. M u c h smaller and m o r e reliable t h a n the v a c u u m tubes, as well as cheaper to produce, the transistors opened up n u m e r o u s n e w possibilities in circuitry. The complexity of the technology took another q u a n t u m j u m p in 1959 with t h e i n t r o d u c t i o n of t h e fntegrated Circuit. Produced chemically r a t h e r t h a n
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invention was as valuable as it was ingenious. The audion tube amplifies a signal because the grid acts as a continually varying electronic gate. Whatever signal the grid carries is impressed upon the stronger current flowing between cathode and anode. The audion tube was the model for all v a c u u m tubesor "valves." Beginning in the 1950s the transistor (left), drawn here lifesize, began to replace the v a c u u m tube in most applications. The principle of operation is basically the same, but it is more c h e m i cal than physical, and hence the transistor is m u c h smaller and more reliable, both great advantages. The integrated circuit, which combines numerous transistor circuits, is even smaller.
mechanically the Integrated Circuit did the work of boxes full of earlier electronic equipment. By 1 9 7 1 this abstract technology had given birth to the silicon-based microchip, on which thousands of circuits could be photographically etched. Gord o n Moore, o n e of the founders of the pioneering Intel corporation, suggested soon after the introduction of the device that the n u m b e r of circuits that could be printed on a chip would double every eighteen months. This prediction came to be k n o w n as Moore's Law and has proved uncannily accurate over the past thirty years. This exponential development rate has been the engine that has powered the microcomputer revolution and the birth of the Information Age. Just as the developers of cinematography had always wanted to produce sound as well as image, so the early experimenters in radio wanted to broadcast images as well as sound. The difficulty was that, although both sound and light are wave phenomena, we perceive sound waves collectively while w e perceive light waves in a sense discretely. The light waves coming from any one point in our Held of vision might be as complex as all the sound waves in our "field of hearing." Because of this added complexity, light waves w o u l d h a v e to be analyzed s o m e h o w in order to be carried by radio wave fonns. The solution to the problem was similar to the one adopted in printing technology: to break down the contin-
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Figure 6 - 1 2 . THE ART OF THE MICROCHI P. Because the circuits are printed, albeit microscopically, microchips reveal the esthetics inherent in their electronic logic, as in this enlargement of a Motorola chip from the mid-nineties. The history of the microcomputer revolution w h i c h began in 1977 has been measured in the q u a n t u m j u m p s of chip design, as the n u m ber of transistors that a single c h i p could emulate j u m p e d from 1,000 to 8 million It's a fine irony that the microchip, the most powerful invention of our time, depends after all on the old technologies of photography and printing. This 1995 RISC-based PowerPC 6 2 0 , designed in collaboration with IBM and Apple, has 7 million transistors. This photomicrograph greatly enlarges the chip, w h i c h is less than an inch square.{Courtesy Motorola.)
u o u s image into a sufficient n u m b e r of discrete particles so that each particle could be transmitted in sequence. At first, mechanical devices were tried. Paul Nipkow's invention, the "Nipkow disc" ( 1 8 8 4 ) , used a spiral array of perforations on a rotating disc to create a rapid scanning movement. As late as the early fifties, the C B S color system utilized this
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Figure 6-13A. THE CATHODE RAY T U B E . The video display consists essentially, of an electron g u n , a focusing arrangement (grid and lens), a deflection yoke, and a screen coated with picture element phosphors. The stream of electrons c o m i n g from the g u n is focused into a tight beam by the grid and the electromagnetic lens. The deflection yoke causes the beam to scan in regular patterns. In the American television system, the scan consists of 5 2 5 lines (there are approximately 4 0 0 picture elements on each line). 3 0 times each second, the beam traces each of these lines (and returns in the "off" m o d e i n d i c a t e d by the dotted lines). In order to provide the smoothest picture, however, the scan is "interlaced": that is, all odd n u m bered lines are scanned in the first half of the frame, then all even n u m b e r e d lines. Each " f r a m e " comprises two of these "fields."
Figure 6 - 1 3 B . THE IMAGE ORTHICON. Translating an optical image into an electronic signal is more difficult than the reverse operation. In the image orfhicon camera tube an optical lens focuses the image on the target screen w h i c h is covered with an array of photosensitive diodes which can translate light energy into electrical energy. These various values are then read by the scanning beam which surveys the target screen in the same interlaced pattern as the cathode ray tube. The beam is reflected back into a device called an electron multiplier, an essential part of the system, whose job it is to amplify the very weak signal received from the face of the target screen. The sequential signalcarrying information about the differences in brightness of each of the 2 1 0 , 0 0 0 picture elementsis then broadcast to receivers. The Vidicon tube (not shown) was based on the same principle, but was constructed more simply.
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(picture elements) Figure 6 - 1 4 . COLOR VIDEO SYSTEMS. The standard color system, illustrated at left, consists of three separate electron guns, three lenses, and a shadow mask w h i c h effectively blocks the electron beam from the blue g u n , for example, from striking any but the blue phosphors arranged on the surface of the screen. Precise focus is crucialso exacting in fact, that the force of gravity can deflect any color signal beam enough d u r i n g its short journey from the gun to the screen to throw the color off. The Trinitron system, developed by the Sony Corporation, gets around this difficulty by aligning all color phosphors vertically, so that w h e n the beam is pulled down slightly by the force of gravity it will nevertheless strike a dot of its own color. In addition, the prism system of the Trinitron allows all three beams to be focused through the same lens and deflection coil. The principle is that the larger the lens and coil, the more precise the focusing. A single lens can be larger t h a n three separate lenses.
the CRT is covered with a phosphorescent coating, any particle of which produces light w h e n struck by a high energy beam of electrons. A "gun" at the opposite end of the tube produces this beam, varying its intensity according to the brightness value of the signal. The b e a m is controlled by a magnetic lens like the one in the camera tube that sweeps across 525 (or 625) lines thirty (or twenty-five) times each second. In reality, the system is more complex. Just as a film projector shutter splits the light b e a m not only between frames but also in the middle of each frame to decrease the flicker effect, so the CRT electron gun actually divides each s w e e p into t w o c o m p o n e n t s : it first sweeps t h e e v e n - n u m b e r e d lines, t h e n
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Figure 6 - 1 5 . THE CHARGE-COUPLED DEVICE. The modern Charge-Coupled Device c a m era is many times more sensitive than its predecessors. It achieves its edge through a simple yet ingenious architecture. The diodes now are coupled to semiconductor capacitors w h i c h store the information until either a line or a whole frame is read. Relieved of their responsibility to c o m m u n i c a t e their readings instantaneously to the scanning beam, the diodes have far more time to collect information about the image. Moreover, the scanning beam has been eliminated a n d the charge pattern for an entire frame is transferred simultaneously in parallel for every field, further freeing the capacitor-coupled diodes to do their work. On the display side, the LCD screen uses the same ideas, but the need is far less critical there.
duction of the long-playing record (1948) and stereophonic reproduction (1958) w e r e advances based o n radio technology, as was, especially, the development of far m o r e sophisticated "high-fidelity" circuitry during t h e 1960s. Yet t h e disc record h a d one basic drawback as a recording medium: it could not be edited. In the late 1940s and early 1950s, the perfection of magnetic tape as a recording m e d i u m changed this. Besides being a m o r e precise a n d flexible m e d i u m (because it translated the electrical sound signal not into physical waves but into magnetic representations), it was also linear and therefore could be edited. Moreover, it presented the possibility of recording a performance on a n u m b e r of separate, parallel tracks at the same time, which gave the sound engineer further control over t h e signal via t h e t e c h n i q u e of "mixing," w h i c h w a s a n e w form of editing. Finally, because it was nearly as easy to record tape as to play it back, the technique of recording was opened u p to wide n u m b e r s of individuals, greatly increasing access to the m e d i u m . In fact, audiotape (like videotape years later) was marketed first as a do-it-yourself m e d i u m rather t h a n as an alternative to the phonograph record. As a playback medium, compact discs, first introduced in i982, added little to t h e t e c h n i q u e a n d experience of s o u n d except t h e arguable durability of t h e
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Figure 6 - 1 6 . LASERDISCS
AND
1970s. The problem was to encode vast amounts of information on relatively limited areas. The RCA system (not shown) used a physical groove and stylus which at first may seem similar to the standard audio disc, but the information was encoded differently. The stylus did not " b u m p " along the track but rather read the varying depths of the track as electrical capacitances. The Philips-MCA system, w h i c h won the contest after help from JVC, uses a laser reader. No physical stylus touches the disc. The basic technology is the same for audio CDs and DVDs. The laser reads the pits pressed into the disc m e d i u m and recreates waveforms from the information. On a laserdisc, the video signal is still analog. On a CD or DVD it is digital. The illustration here is greatly enlarged. There are billions of pits on a CD and the distance between two adjacent lines of pits is less than 2 micrometers (or about 1/15,000 of an inch). It is the ability of the laser to focus on an area as small as one micrometer that makes this huge data capacity possible.
m e d i u m . However, as a recording medium, beginning in the mid-1990s, CDs repr e s e n t e d a n o t h e r q u a n t u m j u m p for a u d i o t e c h n o l o g y : B e c a u s e t h e signal recorded o n a CD is digital rather t h a n analog it can be manipulated in a great variety of wayseasily, and cheaply. By the turn of the century audiophiles with computers enjoyed a virtual mixing and editing suite that w o u l d have cost mil-
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VIDEO
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Figure 6-17. AUDIO CD VERSUS LASERDISC. While the laserdisc represents information in analog format, the audio CD, like the DVD, is purely digital. The pits and "lands" of the disc translate into binary numbers which reflect the sound values of the sampled moments. If a digital recording were "perfect," its sampling rate would be infinitewhich is impossible. Current standard CD recordings use a sampling rate of 4 4 , 1 0 0 Hz. The value that is digitized is one of 6 5 , 5 3 6 discrete numbers ( 2 ) , since the " w o r d " length is only 16 bits. Some veteran audio1 6
philes still insist that neither of these parameters is sufficient to match good analog recording. DVD-Video increases the sampling rate for audio to 9 6 , 0 0 0 Hz and the word length to 2 4 bits.
lions to build w h e n the CD m e d i u m was born in the early eighties, and the Internet gave t h e m access to hundreds of thousands of recordingsas well as a cheap means of distribution for their o w n h o m e - m a d e products. Because the television signal is m u c h more complex t h a n a simple audio signal, it was a good ten years before tape technology was sophisticated e n o u g h to accommodate video. Once videotape was introduced in the 1960s, however, it not only changed the shape of commercial television, which had been limited to the choices of either live presentation or film, but also eventually opened u p televisionat least as a recording m e d i u m if not a broadcast mediumto wide n u m bers of people. The result has been the associated art and business of "video." T h r o u g h o u t t h e seventies, Japanese, E u r o p e a n , a n d A m e r i c a n electronics companies competed to develop a successful videodisc technology and bring it to market. After m a n y false starts, the first viable videodisc systems went o n sale in 1978. But the debut of the videodisc h a d b e e n delayed for so long that Sony's competing videocassette technology h a d had e n o u g h time to become well established. The laserdisc never did catch u p with VHS tapes in the marketplace. W h a t was surprising about the commercial introduction of videodisc recordings is not that they did the job well, but that they did it at all. Two of the competing systemsthe RCA and German TeD systemsused records that consisted of electrical codes carried in a physical groove, which a playback stylus had to follow.
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Figure 6-18. DIGITAL VERSUS ANALOG. The theory behind digitization is that everything can be quantified. An analog record of sounds or images (right) mirrors sound or light waves in a c o n t i n u o u s a n d continuously variablephysical or electronic m e d i u m , such as a phonograph groove or electromagnetic signal. A digital record is discontinuous (intermittent) and not continuously variable: it is limited by the n u m b e r of digits (or decimal places, if you like) used to identify or "quantize" each value. A digital record is made by sampling the audio or video waveform many times each second, converting the sample into whole numbers, and recording those values in numerical f o r m . While the analog record may appear to be perfectat any point on the curve you can discern a value, and you can make it as precise as you likein reality, analog records are subject to deterioration inherent in their media. While the digital record is i m m u n e to deterioration there can be no question about the n u m b e r s i n practice, it is limited by both the frequency of the sampling and its precision.
in t h e seventies, a m a r k e t t h a t Sony p i o n e e r e d a n d t h e J a p a n e s e electronics industry quickly cornered. A l t h o u g h t h e J a p a n e s e system w o r k e d well, t h e HDTV standard b e c a m e a major battleground in the trade wars. The Americans a n d their European allies w e r e n o t eager to h a n d over lucrative licensing fees to J a p a n , fnc. The FCC decided in 1992 that the broadcast HDTV standard they w o u l d approve w o u l d have to be digital. Since the NHK design was analog (it dated from the f 970s), it was out of the running. Under pressure from the FCC, the four competing finalistsnone of t h e m Japanesemerged their technologies and agreed o n license fee splits in May 1993. Trade politics m a y have been at the root of the FCC's decision to go digital, but it m a d e technical sense, as well. Times h a d changed; that the American HDTV standard w o u l d be digital m e a n t that sets could be easily adapted to the other interactive uses, w h i c h s e e m e d i m m i n e n t . By 1996 w h e n , after lengthy a n d
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Figure 6-19. M U L T I P L E X I N G . Wave form broadcasting is limited only by the imagination. Just as the carrier wave supplies the base on which the signal is imposed (see above) so the signal itself can be used as a carrier for a second signal, as it is in stereo "multiplexing." That signal, in t u r n , can be used as the carrier for a third signal (a fourth waveform). Some narrowcast music systems have operated this way, their signal carried piggyback on an FM stereo signal. Data is often transmitted this way. Multiplexing is hard to visualize, but it works.
solved that access problem. With the introduction of the "floppy" disc in 1971 one of the cornerstones of the microcomputer revolution had been laid. Computer folks w e r e quick to see the information storage capabilities of the n e w laser recording technology. Within a few years of the introduction of the laserdisc, the technology h a d b e e n adapted to the recording a n d storage of bits a n d bytes as well as images a n d music. The CD-ROM (for Compact Disc-Read Only Memory), introduced in 1985 by Philips and Sony, heralded the impending u n i o n of c o m p u t e r s a n d m e d i a , i n f o r m a t i o n t e c h n o l o g y a n d r e c o r d i n g technology.
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But if the sign is quantified, w e can add a corollary: The significance of the sign is limited only by the imagination of the signer. And w h e n t h e images a n d sounds, w h o s e history w e h a v e traced from t h e earliest photographs a n d phonographs, are represented in the same m e d i u m as the words (and numbers) of literature, a u n i o n is possible. This is the subject of Chapter 7.
R a d i o a n d Records not with each other). This was a radical shift in cultural patterns. The problem is that these media are unidirectional. Anyone w h o has ever watched an infant grow into a child with television as a surrogate m o t h e r can testify to the remarkable p o w e r of the electronic media, fn helping to create n e w needs (for Barbie Dolls or licensed breakfast cereal o n the o n e h a n d , or continual fictional stimulation or t h e omnipresence of a h u m a n voice o n t h e other), in inculcating shared values, a n d in defining t h e general s h a p e of t h e culture, television a n d radio h a v e n o equals. The p r i n t media, because they do n o t h a v e a h u m a n presence of their o w n , because the reader controls the experience, and because they must be actively decoded or read, have not a t e n t h the p o w e r of the electronic media; n o r does film, which, although it does h a v e a presence a n d n e e d not, strictly speaking, be decoded, nevertheless stands as a separate experience: it takes place in t h e movie h o u s e , n o t in t h e home. This elemental force m a y be more clearly seen in contemporary radio t h a n in television, since radio can be apprehended so m u c h m o r e easily (that is, it is not necessary actually to look at it), fn this respect, radio still serves as a m o d e l for television, a m e d i u m which, in contrast to film, puts more emphasis o n the sound component t h a n o n the image. The essential purpose of radio is not only to tell stories and convey information but also to create a pervasive aural environment. The ultimate product of this is Muzak, a continuous stream of carefully designed a n d programmed music constructed to create a specific m o o d : sound as architecture rather t h a n meaning. M u c h of contemporary radio, w h e t h e r talk or music, tends in this direction. Dead space is to be abhorred; w h a t is important, as any disc jockey knows, is the continu o u s flow. Psychologically, radio serves a "stroking" function: it is artificial b u t very m u c h needed company. Likewise, m u c h of television is designed to accompany the flow of the day. Visual information, paradoxically, although often useful, is not necessary. There is n o particular n e e d to w a t c h a talk s h o w or television n e w s , a n d m o s t television d r a m a is generally comprehensible w i t h o u t visual input. As a result, it is n o t u n c o m m o n for people to "read" a n e w s p a p e r a n d "watch" television simultaneously. It became clear early in the history of commercial radio that the concept of personality w o u l d d o m i n a t e the m e d i u m . Even m o r e t h a n film, radio heightened the effect of celebrity because the "variety" program allowed stars to be free of fictional, artificial roles and to play "themselves." Radio shows were often indistinguishable from their stars. The basic form h a d b e e n taken over from vaudeville, b u t t h e m a s t e r of c e r e m o n i e s n o w d o m i n a t e d t h e proceedings. Jack Benny, George B u r n s a n d G r a d e Allen, Fred Allen, Bing Crosby, Edgar B e r g e n a n d Charlie McCarthy, a n d Easy Aces all followed a well-defined formthe basic charaderistic of which was a seamless weave of fidional and real elements.
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There are eighty-two broadcast television channels available in each market area of the United States. For various technical reasons, however, fewer t h a n half of these are usable, and, in practice, few cities have more t h a n twelve over-the-air stations available. Moreover, only twelve of the eighty-two are powerful VHF stations; the other seventy, operating on a different frequency band (UHF), are considerably weaker and, with few exceptions, have remained marginal operations. Only seven of the twelve VHF channels are in operation in any one area (and far fewer in most areas outside the major urban centers), a fact that has allowed the commercial broadcast networksNBC, CBS, ABC, and n o w also FOXto dominate the airwaves both economically and esthetically since the commercial birth of television in 1946. Although their power has lessened since the cable revolution of the 1980s, they still clearly dominate the medium. Cable television has logically developed as a m e d i u m of special interests sports, movies, children's prograrnming, the artsso the job of socializing our culture still rests mainly with the broadcast networks. A m o n g the cable networks, only MTVand perhaps CNNaffect our culture in the w a y that the broadcast networks still do. Two basic limitations govern the nature of broadcast television a n d allow networks to dominate: one is the limited n u m b e r of channels available, the other the limit of time. A television program director has only 168 hours at his disposal each w e e k a n d his programs, moreover, m u s t be in direct competition w i t h those of the other networks. A newspaper reader can buy several papers and read t h e m all carefully in sequence. A television viewer, however, can watch only one network news program at a time, and while h e is watching it h e is likely to be missing the others. (Of course, true news junkies tape w h a t they're not watching.) Because of the inherent limitations of time and channels, the commercial networks still have effective control over the airwaves, subject only to a n occasional FCC ruling. Network programming begins at 7 a m each day and lasts, with occasional breaks for local shows, until at least 2 a m the next day. Until the Telecommunications Act of 1996, the networks were not allowed to o w n outright m o r e t h a n a handful of local stations. Over the years, several FCC rulings have b e e n directed to increasing the local affiliates' independence from networks (such as t h e Prime Time Access rule of the early seventies, w h i c h set aside certain h o u r s for n o n - n e t w o r k programming), b u t the affiliates' connections with networks are lucrative and they do not disregard the wishes of the networks very often.
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Television a n d Video lead-out) to a program that needs a boost, since television tuners still tend to follow Nielsen's laws of inertia, despite the ubiquity of restless audiences' m o d e r n weapon: the remote. Networks d o n ' t sell e n t e r t a i n m e n t , as t h e Hollywood studios did; t h e y sell audiences, whose size and quality depend almost as m u c h o n the talent and luck of t h e p r o g r a m m i n g executive in placing shows effectively as t h e y do o n t h e inherent value of the shows. The programmer wants a show to fit the "sound" or "look" h e is trying to create. We don't watch a show so often as w e "watch television." One result is that parts of a show are more significant t h a n the show as a whole. This characteristic is emphasized by the peculiar breakdown of shows into discrete segments by t h e practice of threading advertisements t h r o u g h o u t the time slot rather t h a n bunching t h e m between programs, as is done in some other countries. The focus of critical attention, then, is the family of programs, each group identified by a particular style or rhythm, a n attitude to character, a specific subtext or type of payoff. These characteristics have their roots in film and radio, fn the thirties, film genres fit into a similar system yet, despite the practice of the double feature, each film was separateindividually as well as generically identifiable. The concept of genre is m u c h more important to television. As cable television m a t u r e d in the 1980s, the rules w e r e reconfirmed rather t h a n revised. Ted Turner started with cable sports programming but had his greatest success w i t h CNN, a fulltime n e w s n e t w o r k that very quickly grew to challenge t h e b r o a d c a s t n e t w o r k s ' n e w s oligopoly. The multiplicity of c h a n n e l s allowed cable n e t w o r k operators to focus each o n a n individual special interest, but the genres didn't change. There is n o cableor satellitechannel whose prog r a m m i n g doesn't h a v e roots in broadcast n e t w o r k television. (Even C-SPAN's coverage of Congress and public policy echoes the broadcasters' special-event coverage of Watergate in the seventies and the McCarthy and Kefauver hearings of the fifties.) A n d the few remaining cable networks that still eschew advertising venture only so far as the British dramatic serial popularized in the 1970s by PBS. We'll have m o r e to say later about the unique position television holds in contemporary life. Meanwhile, let's review the history of this remarkable medium.
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"Broadcasting":
The Business
Ironically, the commercial potential of broadcasting was demonstrated almost accidentally. Like m a n y other amateur radio operators, Frank Conrad, a resident of Pittsburgh and a researcher for Westinghouse, was in the habit of transmitting program materialmusic, news, and so forthas well as conversing with other "hams." Late in September 1920, the Joseph H o m e department store in Pittsburgh ran a n advertisement in the Pittsburgh Sun that called attention to Conrad's amateur
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forth. Gradually it b e c a m e clear t h a t production simply tied u p capital a n d could more profitably be left to independent entrepreneurs. During the 1960s, the television networks began to concentrate o n distribution, themselves producing only n e w s and sports, which required ongoing organizations, and leaving most of the
Television a n d Video primetime entertainment product to "independent" producers, m a n y of w h o m , ironically, were subsidiaries of the motion picture studios. The networks not only did not have to tie u p large a m o u n t s of capital in production, but they also got away with paying the producers of the shows less t h a n t h e y cost. This strange state of affairs was m a d e possible because the total real value of a successful television program is significantly greater t h a n its one-time production cost. Producers hope to make their profit margin o n syndication sales of reruns to independent stations and export sales after the program has received the network imprimatur. fn about 1960, w h e n this system of relying o n i n d e p e n d e n t producers h a d gained currency, the economic n e x u s of n e t w o r k television also changed. The networks still sold time to advertisers, but it was measured in terms of actual minutes a n d seconds of commercials broadcast, not h o u r s of p r o g r a m m i n g . Thus, w h e r e a s a n advertiser in 1952 m i g h t b u y a n h o u r of p r i m e t i m e o n Tuesday evening for the n e x t n i n e m o n t h s a n d t h e n p u t w h a t e v e r programming h e felt like sponsoring o n the air to s u r r o u n d his commercial messages a n d attract a n audience, by 1960 h e was reduced to buying thirty seconds of ad time in a specific show produced by independents and controlled by the networks themselves. This n e w system focused m u c h more attention on the ratings. In the early days of television, a sponsor might very well finance a show that h a d a relatively small audience. His aim wasn't necessarily gross ratings points but prestige and influence. Thus, the "Golden Age" of television was marked by such relatively unpopular shows as Hallmark Hall of Fame, The U.S. Steel Hour, and Armstrong Circle Theater. B u t n o w t h a t n e t w o r k s w e r e controlling p r o g r a m m i n g , t h e ratings g a m e became all-important. Not only were individual shows carefully ranked (the cost of advertising time within the top-ranked shows could be sold for more t h a n the time in poorly ranked shows), but also each network's yearly average became the index of "success" or "failure." In most years since 1960, the difference in ratings averages b e t w e e n the first a n d second (and sometimes the third) n e t w o r k has been so small as to be statistically insignificant, but the psychology of ratings has been so obsessive that such meaningless point differences can still m a k e tens of millions of dollars of difference in advertising revenues. Most observers agree that the quality of network television will not change significantly until the ratings system is either abolished or becomes moribund. It is unlikely that either the FCC or Congress will challenge a system the networks are comfortable with. Yet technological developments are n o w making the ratings g a m e obsolete. First, if e v e n a significant m i n o r i t y of VCR o w n e r s use their machines for w h a t is called "time-shifting," deciding for themselves when they w a n t to w a t c h a n y particular program, the ratings race becomes clouded. Each show is in competition with every other show (as well as prerecorded tapes and
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R u s s i a n Molniya
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Figure 6-20. SATELLITE PLACEMENT. A satellite in orbit at a height of 2 2 , 3 0 0 miles is geosynchronous; that is, it seems to hang stationary overhead since it is moving at the same speed as the surface of the earth. This makes the j o b of c o m m u n i c a t i n g with it m u c h simpler since the earth station antennas needn't move to track it. Although the circumference of this orbit at the equator alone is more than 1 6 6 , 0 0 0 miles and VSAT (Very Small Aperture T e c h nology) considerably narrows the necessary angle of separation, the track is already crowded, and nations contend for satellite locations as they do for electromagnetic spectrum frequencies. More than 1 5 0 c o m m u n i c a t i o n s satellites are already operating in this orbit. (Note: the m a p of satellite placement is not drawn to scale.) Low Earth Orbit ("LEO") satellites also serve communications functions. Although they are useful at any particular location on the surface of the planet only d u r i n g the brief time they are overhead, several LEO satellites can c o m b i n e to provide extended periods. There are several ambitious plans to launch large quantities of LEO satellites w h i c h would hand-off signals seamlessly from one to another to anotherrather the reverse of cellular telephony (the antennas are moving, but the caller remains stationary). Because m u c h of the territory of the former Soviet Union lies in northern latitudes where equatorial geosynchronous satellites are of little use, Soviet scientists devised the ingenious Molniya orbit. Swinging in a very eccentric ellipse, these satellites are relatively stationary for a useful a m o u n t of time while they are at their apogee. (The diagram is not drawn to scale.)
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watching his team the Atlanta Braves d u r i n g the 1992 World Series. Think of the resonances: the rise of the new South, sports c h a m p i o n , eighties entrepreneur, Barbarella, feminist activist, Workout videotapes, Vietnam and the anti-war movement, local politics, 12-meter yachts, Western heroes, satellite television, glamour and romance at age 5 5 , a Hollywood dynasty now into its third generation, the first worldwide television network, the first television cinematheque, the Gulf War live in your living room, ecological activism, colorization, the Goodwill Games, Workout salons, M G M , baseball and basketball.... The Hollywood myth is not yet d e a d e v e n if the Braves did lose that Series. {Courtesy of the Atlanta Braves.)
The founding of CNN, a national news network, and MTV, devoted to popular music, b o t h in 1980, m a r k e d a n o t h e r milestone in t h e rapid d e v e l o p m e n t of cable's "special interest" approach to television. Within ten years both had become broadly international in scope, primary forces in the d e v e l o p m e n t of t h e N e w World Culture (if not the New World Order). Just as broadcast network television had homogenized a diverse America in the 1960s and 1970s, so satellite distribution of CNN, MTV, and other cable channels rapidly broke d o w n national cultural barriers, for better or worse. During this period, E u r o p e a n television was also u n d e r g o i n g a radical seachange as government-controlled, limited television systems w e r e opened to a free-market approach. Cable penetration in some European countriesBelgium, for examplewas significant, but in others practically nonexistent. Beginning in the late 1980s, direct-to-home satellite broadcasting (DSB) offered a cheaper, quicker alternative to multifarious but capital-intensive cable systems. During the
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Figure 6 - 2 2 . The serial and series were less important in film than in radio and television. Here, Flash Gordon (Buster Crabbe) and his crew from the popular Universal film serial of the late 1930s, Flash Gordon. Film serials were a programming staple in the early days of television and thus became part of the mythic memories of a second generation, as well. In the seventies and eighties they were revived for still a third generation of viewers through the movie homages of directors like George Lucas and Steven Spielberg.
C o m p e t i n g w i t h M a l o n e ' s vision of h u n d r e d s of cable c h a n n e l s w a s t h e nascent technology of Video-on-Demand. More like a telephone system than a broadcast operation, a n d backed mainly by the Baby Bells, Video-on-Demand quickly hit the technology wall. (It depends on digital storage, transmission, and switching of video signals.) Seeing the convergence of television and telecommunications that was approaching, Malone tried to merge TCI with Bell Atlantic in 1993. The deal fell through, but Malone was successful in his second attempt, merging with AT&T in 1998. The eventual combination of the telephone and television industries seemed inevitable, especially after the long-debated Telecommunications Act of 1996 gave both cable and telco interests virtual carte blanche to proceed with mergers and acquisitions. Presented as a liberalization of existing laws intended to increase competition, the Act almost immediately had the opposite effect as five of the seven Baby Bells a n n o u n c e d mergers and major companiesnow largely freed from ownership constraintsgobbled up h u n d r e d s of
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Figure 6-23A. BEFORE. Howard Morris, Sid Caesar, ImogeneCoca, and Carl Reiner in a sketch from Your Show of Shows (September 1953). (NBC.)
local television and radio stations and scores of smaller chains. Meanwhile, Malone's promise of television bandwidth so wide it would be unsurfable languished, as the cable industry's attention turned to opportunities in Internet service a n d telephony. As the founders of television faded from the scene to be replaced by businessmen like Malone and Murdoch and massive conglomerates like Time Wamer and Disney, one newcomer kept the entrepreneurial spark alive. Ted Turner had bought a local Atlanta UHF station in 1970 and kept it going with a mixture of movies and sports (he owned interests in two local teams). Shortly after HBO went "on the bird," Turner began national distribution of WTBS (then called WTCG) via satellite, becoming the first of the "superstations"local stations distributed nationally via satellite. He became an immediate cable power. He added to the personal myth by winning the America's Cup in 1977 with his yacht Courageous. Disregarding industry wisdom, in 1980 he founded CNNnext to MTV the most influential broadcasting operation of the 1980s. He cloned a second n e w s channel, HNN, in 1982 to ward off competition. By 1985 h e was taken seriously w h e n h e a n n o u n c e d he might bid for CBS. (Paley turned to Tisch as a "white knight" to fend off Turner and others.)
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Figure 6 - 2 3 B . A F T E R . Morris, Caesar, Coca, and Reiner months later in what appears to be a reprise of the earlier sketch: just add " p r o d u c tion values." (June 1954). (NBC.)
A year later Turner was m o r e successful in his bid for MGM. He bought the venerable him studio in March 1986, kept its library, and sold the rest (nearly bankrupting his company and losing a measure of control to cable system operators, including the ubiquitous J o h n Malone). By 1988 Turner's strategy became clear: TNT, his fourth cable network, began broadcasting, drawing on the extensive MGM library. Turner had n e w prints struck for the telecasts, introducing an entire generation to the wonders of old Technicolor and 35 m m black-and-white cinematography. But h e didn't stop there: He used developing computer technology to "colorize" many black-and-white classics from the thirties and forties, supposedly to m a k e t h e m m o r e palatable for television a u d i e n c e s . Colorization became a cause celebre in Hollywood as filmmakers banded together to protect their heritage. Ted Turner continued his rise as a media mogul by marrying into Hollywood royalty in 1991. No one in contemporary times has continued the old traditions of Hollywood glamor, entrepreneurship, and panache so well as Turner ... and he did it in Atlanta. In 1995, after losing out yet again in his bid for CBS (thwarted in large part by the cable interests that n o w dominated his board), Turner a n n o u n c e d that he would sell his company to Time Warner for $7.5 billion. "I'm tired of being little all the time," he declared with laconic wit at the press conference announcing the
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Figure 6-24. TODAY. On the morning of January 14, 1952, television c a m e of age, as the NBC announcer intoned: "This is Today, the day you are going to live, from the RCA Exhibition Hall on 4 9 t h Street in the heart of New York. And here is your communicator, Garroway." From that m o m e n t on, television was part of the family. Dave
deal. "I'm nearing the end of my career. I want to see what it's like to be big for a while." Although the market for television has become m u c h more complex than it was in the 1970s, although the technology certainly exists to provide hundreds of channels and make t h e m interactive, although American families spend almost as m u c h time in front of their television sets as they do at work, it is not yet certain that this brave n e w world of television will prove to be economically viable. By 1996 the traditional powers in the television business were under attack not only from upstart cable and satellite networks and distributors but also from telephone companies, computer companiesand even Hollywoodas America's entertainm e n t conglomerates jockeyed for position in a market that didn't yet exist.
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Figure 6-25. T O N I G H T . Just as important as Today in establishing the unique forms of television has been The Tonight Show, presided over in its long history by just six hosts. From left to right, Jerry Lester and Morey A m s t e r d a m provided the w a r m u p in the timeslot as the resident comics on Broadway Open House. Steve Allen's reign in the fifties brought the level u p from burlesque to satire and established the show as an institution. Jack Paar introduced a new personal tone d u r i n g his short but influential stint. (Sidekick Hugh Downs and frequent guests Dody Goodman and Hermione Gingold are in the background.) All of this was preparation for 2 9 years of Johnny Carson. Throughout the eighties, the question of succession was grist for the rumor mill. Potential Tonight Show hosts c a m e and wentoften to their own shows on other networks. W h e n Carson finally retired in 1 9 9 2 , Jay Leno happened to be sitting in the successor's seat. Note the grins: Leno brings us back to Lester.
radio comedy and variety programs were transferred whole to the more profitable medium. This was the era of Ed Sullivan, Milton Berle, Jack Benny, Burns and Allen, Jackie Gleason, and Sid Caesar, who, with fmogene Coca, Mel Brooks, Carl Reiner, and Howard Morris, created one of the earliest and most engaging television programs, Your Show of Shows, produced by Max Liebman. Second to Caesar as an innovator in this period was Ernie Kovacs, w h o started on local stations in New York and Philadelphia. Kovacs, w h o died in 1962 perhaps before he had realized his full potential, was easily the most technically inventive television artist of the 1950s. In its perceptive use of the curious technology of the n e w medium, his work forecast later developments in independent video.
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Figure 6-26. Kovacs's famous library sketch. "Eugene" can't quite pour his milk straight into the glass. The camera is tilted so that it is square with the inclined set. (Notice the stagehand m o p p i n g up at the right.) (January 1957.) (NBC.)
In the mid-fifties, televisionas film had before itturned to more respectable enterprises as it tried to establish a more mature reputation. This periodthe adolescence of televisionis remembered for its live, nonserial, serious dramas, such as Philco Playhouse, Studio One, Kraft Television Theatre, a n d Playhouse 90. The received critical opinion is that this was the "Golden Age" of television drama, yet it can be argued that the stagey quality of these theatrical productions did not use t h e m e d i u m to full effect. During this period television writers a n d directors achieved some public status. Paddy Chayefsky, Reginald Rose, Tad Mosel, Robert Alan Aurthur, Rod Serling, and Frank D. Gilroy, among others, developed reputations as writers that later stood t h e m in good stead, while directors like J o h n Frankenheimer, Franklin Schaffner, Sidney Lumet, and Arthur Penn later went on to successful careers in feature films. The introduction of videotape techniques in the early sixties, together with the continuing shift from n e t w o r k production to production by outside agencies, m a r k e d an i m p o r t a n t t u r n i n g point in television history. During this period, American television developed the mix of standard forms by which w e k n o w it today. News and public affairs coverage, the prestigious items, w e r e expanded. Profitable sports coverage became more c o m m o n and more popular as technical proficiency expanded. Instant replay, slow motion, and stop motion enhanced the impact of professional sports so m u c h that stadiums eventually had to provide live spectators with their o w n video screens. New leagues were formed in response to the growing interest. Football became the metaphor of choice for politicians. Talk shows, pioneered in the fifties by such personalities as Arthur Godfrey, Dave Gar-
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Figure 6-27. Lucy in the knife-throwing sketch. / Love Lucy set a style for situation comedy that persisted for forty years. (CBS.)
roway, Steve Allen, and Jack Paar, became a dominant television form with the rise of J o h n n y Carson (f 962) a n d a host of imitators. The mix of talk, g a m e shows, and soap opera was established as the standard for daytime television. Meanwhile, primetime entertainment had settled into the mix of half-hour comedy and hour-long action/drama series that w e recognize today as its basic structure. Television didn't invent these forms. Both types of programs are direct descendants of the dominant radio forms; indeed, w e can trace their genesis even further back, to the movies' two-reel comedies and sixty- to s e v e n t y - m i n u t e action "programmers." But the forms took on n e w relevance in television. Jack Webb's Dragnet and Lucille Ball's and Desi Arnaz's I Love Lucy were basic models in the fifties. Webb established the concept of strong identification with the hero and the importance of location shooting in his seminal, magnificently stylized, "realistic" series about the work of Sergeant Friday of the Los Angeles Police Department. Ball and Arnaz established the basic rules of "situation comedy" production by filming in front of a live audience and shooting with three cameras simultaneously. The three-camera t e c h n i q u e dated from the earliest experiments with television in the thirties, but Ball was the first to realize that immediate, "real-time," live television editing (in which the director monitors all cameras and makes instantaneous decisions about which image to use) could be combined with traditional after-the-fact film editing. Just as m a n y of the best Hollywood films were made in the 1930s, before people were aware that they were inventing narrative forms that would last for sixty
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Figure 6-28. The A r m y - M c C a r t h y hearings in 1954 proved an important turning point for television news/public affairs departments. For the first time, the television vision of the world became a major determining factor in American politics. As the hearings droned o n , Senator Joseph McCarthy revealed himself as a sniggling, egomaniacal liar and the once great power he wielded evaporated quickly. Here he is advised by his counsel, Roy Cohn (left). His adversary, Joseph N. Welch, counsel for the Army, gained instant celebrity projecting the image of a wise, g o o d - h u m o r e d , slightly sardonic judge straight from central casting. (The battle between McCarthy and Welch was more a contest of images than of issues.) Twenty years later, " c o u n try lawyer" Senator Sam Irvin projected an image similar to Welch's (and just as popular) as Chairman of the Senate Committee hearings on Watergate. (From Emile De Antonio's Order. Courtesy New Yorker Films. Frame enlargement from kinescope.) Point ol
years, so m u c h of the best American television dates from the early sixties, w h e n the patterns that were later to become so highly stylized and rigidly defined were first being established. Generally, the action/drama shows organized themselves according to professions. (Jack Webb's influence is important in this respect as well.) Police and Detective genres were action-oriented (as were most Westerns); doctor, lawyer, teacher, and other profession shows w e r e m o r e idea-oriented. E v e n social w o r k e r s , n u r s e s , a n d politicians h a d t h e i r o w n s h o w s a l b e i t brieflyin the mid-sixties. The best of the profession programs were those produced in New York. Herbert Brodkin's The Defenders (E. G. Marshall and Robert Reed as lawyers) and David Susskind's East Side, West Side (George C. Scott and Cicely Tyson as social workers) stood out. As opposed to the majority of programs produced in Los Angeles, the New York shows were more authentic and thoughtful. They were more likely to use location settings; they were more tightly written, with grittier characteriza-
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Figure 6-29. NEW YORK T E L E F I L M S . George C. Scott and Cicely Tyson in David Susskind's East Side, West Side (1963). This episode, # 2 "The Sinner," was directed by Jack Smight and photographed by Jack Priestly. Scott's character, Neil Brock, was often impatient, sometimes wrong. He was permitted to fail, as well. The plan was to develop the character throughout the series, but East Side, West Side lasted only one season. (David Susskind. Frame enlargement.)
tions and more irony; and they availed themselves of the large pool of acting talent in New York, while the Hollywood shows of the time had little to draw on except starlets (of both sexes). If cops and doctors seem to rule the airwaves still, there may be good reasons for that. As Sonny Grosso, a former New York City detective t u r n e d television writer and producer, has pointed out, hospitals and precinct stations are the contemporary clearing houses for dramatic stories. As a result, they m a k e excellent locations for plot-hungry series. As the 1960s wore on, and as the movie studios began to exert more influence, New York television production all but disappeared, fn the late sixties, American television settled into a dull rut: the more sophisticated the ratings game became, the less interesting were the products that acted as lures for massive audiences. During his t e n u r e at CBS, program director James Aubrey set the style for this period: the aim was to aim for the lowest c o m m o n denominator so as to offend the fewest possible potential members of an audience. To characterize television * New York-based profession dramas maintained their edge for more than thirty years, still boasting the same qualities in the nineties: for example, Law and Order.
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Figure 6-30. Laugh-In had little of the Smotherses' political consciousness and lasted longer.
A collage of bits and pieces, one-liners, short sketches, blackouts, catch phrases, wordplay, cartoons, set pieces, and running jokes, it set a style considered typical of the sixties. It also gave an unusual opportunity to female performers, including Ruth Buzzi, Judy Carne, Joann Worley, and Goldie Hawn, pictured here, as well as Lily Tomlin. Its most famous guest performer, however, was Richard M. Nixon, who appeared briefly one evening in 1968 to intone the catchline for the show solemnly (and prophetically): "Sock it to me?!" {NBC.)
comedy in the mid-sixties, w e have only to n a m e the most successful show of those years, Aubrey's The Beverly Hillbillies. During this period, the concept of the "spinoff" gained widespread acceptance. If a show was successful, it was because of the elements of the program rather t h a n its wholeness. As a result, those elements could be duplicated, slightly rearranged, and put together again to form a second successful show. Television began to replicate itself. If 77K Beverly Hillbillies (country folk in the city), then Green Acres (city folk in the country). By the mid-1990s the spinoffs had metamorphosed into "knockoffs"unashamed copies of successful shows. Knockoffs proved especially attractive to the n e w w a n n a b e networks, rushing to fill their primetime schedules. In the late sixties, the renaissance of television in the seventies was prefigured by t w o 6 0 - m i n u t e programsLaugh-In and The Smothers Comedy Brothers Hour (sic)both of which dealt in topical humor; both of which, for varying reasons, burned out quickly. Laugh-In, although it developed a stable of interesting comic actors, was too m u c h of its time. The Smothers brothers, o n the o t h e r h a n d , developed a reputation as political radicals through such acts of network defiance as reading the entire Declaration of Independence on the air.
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Figure 6 - 3 1 . The Smothers Brothers, Dick and Tom (1967). The Smothers Brothers Comedy H o u r [sic] was not only politically
alive and sharply satirical but also stylistically inventive d u r i n g its short tenure, before it was canceled by nervous CBS executives. (CSS.)
fn f 970 t w o programs debuted that set a n e w style for topical comedy, The Mary Tyler Moore Show and All in the Family (a remake of the popular British program 'Til Death Us Do Part). Within five years these two programs were responsible for twelve to fifteen spinoffs and imitations on the network schedules. Since the fifties, programs like these had been referred to as "sitcoms" (situation comedies), but the phrase is misleading. Their real interest, as with the action/drama shows, is their collection of characters, not their situation. There is nothing inherently funny about a lower-middle-class family living in Queens (All in the Family), or about a single w o m a n working for a television n e w s program in Minneapolis (Mary Tyler Moore). There is, however, something h u m o r o u s about the characters that Carroll O'Connor, Mary Tyler Moore, and their colleagues fashioned and the ensemble work of the actors. Again, as in radio, personality is the key.*
* All in the Family offered a striking lesson in sitcom character. In t h e pilot show, J e a n Stapleton's Edith B u n k e r w a s entirely different from t h e naive, sweet, d o p e y "dingbat" w h o later b e c a m e famous. This first try at Edith w a s m o r e intelligent, m o r e sardonic, andit m u s t h a v e been clear to t h e p r o d u c e r s and writers entirely t o o self-confident to last long u n d e r Archie's roof. Had this early version of Edith c o n t i n u e d , it m i g h t h a v e b e e n she t h a t w a s s p u n off, not h e r relative Maude.
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Figure 6 - 3 2 . More than twenty years after Pat Weaver invented pastime television with the Today and Tonight programs, NBC and producer Lome Michaels found a weekend equivalent in Saturday Night Live. The original 1975 cast included John Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Bill Murray, Laraine N e w m a n (back row), Gilda Radner, Jane Curtin, and Garrett Morris.
given shows of their o w n in the mid-seventies. All in the Family, itself a remake, s p u n off The Jeffersons a n d Maude, w h i c h in t u r n s p u n off Good Times (thus a fourth-generation spinoff). Finally, t h e s h o w spun off itself'into Archie Bunker's Place. In the 1990s Frasier spun off from Cheers (although it shared n o n e of its parent's elements except the title character). In fact, of t h e t w e n t y comedies in t h e i 9 7 5 schedule, all b u t t h r e e w e r e spinoffs or imitations of Mary Tyler Moore or All in the Family or were produced by Moore (MTM Enterprises) or N o r m a n Lear (Tandem Productions). By the midseventies, Lear, an independent, had grown so powerful that he was actually able to challenge the dominance of the networks by stringing together his o w n ad hoc chain of independent outlets for his parodic soap opera, Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman, one of the m o r e significant ratings successes of the mid-seventies and a show originally rejected as too innovative by all the networks. This success in first-run syndication was u n h e a r d of at the time but proved a model for the very profitable syndication market of the eighties and ad hoc networks of the nineties. fn t h e late 1970s television situation comedy sank close to t h e nadir of t h e mid-sixties as network programming executives became fascinated with simplistic sexual i n n u e n d o and preadolescent humor. Partly this was the result of the success of Happy Days and Welcome Back, Kotter, which both drew on nostalgia for the fifties teenager lifestyle that appealed, apparently, both to the preteens intent on living a fantasy of those days, and their parents, w h o remembered t h e m . Television was n o t alone in exploiting this nostalgia. Saturday Night Fever and Grease were both highly successful films of the late seventiesboth starred John Travolta
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Figure 6 - 3 3 . The miniseries Roots (1977), based on Alex Haley's book, not only set ratings records but marked a renewed interest in ethnic heritage that bridged racial divisions.
from Kotter. A n d Grease became t h e longest-running Broadway show u p to t h e time it closed in 1980. Partly too, t h e late-seventies sitcom drew o n Charlie's Angels, a lightly dramatic hour whose main purpose was to exploit its three female stars w h o ran around a lot without bras. As a result, such programs gained t h e sobriquet "Jiggly Shows." They set a pattern for mildly erotic exploitations of sexual fantasies that proved highly lucrative thereafter, often in made-for-television movies that appeared to have "redeeming social value" because they were based o n reality. Baywatch continued this genre through the 1990s. Efforts like Three's Company proved beyond a doubt the validity of programmer Paul Klein's theory of "Least Objectionable Program." Klein, w h o was o n e of t h e chief programmers for NBC in t h e late seventies, realized that most people don't watch a specific television program (and t h u s don't judge individual shows on their worth), they watch television. Hence they are likely to t u n e in the show that offends t h e m leastand a light sitcom that will only d e m a n d half a n hour from t h e m and has a couple of pretty girls bouncing a r o u n d a n d m a y b e some jokes (they don't have to b e all that good) a n d some thinly veiled double entendre will probably offend most people least. We have been speaking, of course, about primetime network television exclusively. Perhaps t h e central innovation of t h e 1970s in American television w a s Saturday Night Live, the "experiment" that made the late-night time slot almost as profitable for NBC on Saturday as it was during the week w h e n occupied by the
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Figure 6 - 3 4 . The longest surviving Hollywood icon of the 1940s, Robert M i t c h u m provided a rock-solid protagonist for the miniseries Winds of War (1983) a n d War and Remembrance ( 1 9 8 8 - 8 9 ) , based on the Herman Wouk novels. More than forty years after it had ended, World War II continued to haunt our collective memory: note the large n u m b e r of popular miniseries dealing with that period.
venerable J o h n n y Carson. Like its predecessors, Your Show of Shows and Laugh-In, Saturday Night Live offered a broad canvas to a group of actors to do sketch comedy. Like the Smothers Brothers, the "Not Ready for Prime Time Players" gained an edge by doing topical humor. Beginning in 1975, the show quickly gained a following among young people. It was, indeed, broadcast live (except w h e n shows were repeated)a remarkable fact in the late seventiesand this resulted in a spirit of impromptu immediacy that hadn't been seen for almost twenty years in network television, ft also provided some of the best h u m o r in America during the period, sometimes relevant, often more than simply witty, ft became the last refuge for the vaudeville tradition that had m a r k e d t h e earliest years of t h e century. For m o r e t h a n t w e n t y years thereafter, as talent came a n d went, Saturday Night Live set the agenda for popular culture, ft introduced talent like Chevy Chase, J o h n Belushi, Dan Aykroyd, Gilda Radner, Eddie Murphy, and Mike Myers, w h o went on to success in feature films. Two other innovations marked the seventies: the docudrama and the miniseries. The made-for-television movie (or "Movie-of-the-Week,"MOW in Hollywood parlance) h a d its roots, ironically, not in television but in film. Starved for product, the networks had turned in the early sixties to the vast backlog of Holly-
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few m i n u t e s of extra footage re-edited in chronological order during four evenings in November i 9 7 7 was also a landmark. By the eighties the miniseries was well established as a television format and the networks were involved in numerous productions of this sort. In fact, t h e miniseries simply filled in t h e c o n t i n u u m b e t w e e n t h e one-shot hour-and-a-half made-for-television movie and the endless American-style series. A television property (or theatrical film, for that matter) can be couched, now, in n u m e r o u s forms of various lengths and divisions. What unites all these formats and separates t h e m from the traditional formatsis their serial style: their stories develop; an end is in sight (even if it is not always reached).
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Figure 6-36. Steven Bochco's Hill Street Blues ( 1 9 8 1 - 8 7 ) set a new style for television drama whose effect was felt well into the nineties. No fewer than fourteen lead characters received screen time in each show. (This is the original cast.)
One effect of the novel-for-television style was to revive the serial format in regular television programming. Soap (1977-1981) applied the serial to satirical situation comedy. In 1979, Dallasan evening soap operamet with worldwide popular success. The more interesting dramatic shows of the eighties and nineties followed this tradition, developing characters from episode to episode. Chief a m o n g t h e s e w a s Steven Bochco's s e m i n a l Hill Street Blues, w h i c h debuted in 1980 and marked the changing of the guard. Perhaps the most innovative narrative in any m e d i u m during the eighties, Hill Street Blues merged hardhitting, issues-oriented police drama with absurdist comedy, all set in the context of a c o n t i n u i n g set of soap opera stories about a large group of characters. It brought Robert Altman's sense of h u m o r and range to realistic docudrama treatm e n t of relevant political issues. The combination of stylized high comedy with serious intelligence, all set in the context of the most m u n d a n e of genres, marked a n e w level of sophistication in storytellingone that has yet to be exceeded by practitioners of the feature film. A product of Grant Tinker's MTM production company, Hill Street heralded Tinker's reign as savior of NBC. It was joined in 1982 by another MTM production, Sr. Elsewhere, executive-produced by Bruce Paltrow (father of Gwyneth), which applied the Hill Street formula to a hospital setting. In 1985, Bochco himself
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Figure 6-37. Bochco's LA. Law ( 1 9 8 6 - 9 4 ) applied the formula to a fictional Los Angeles law firm, adding to the mix pungent c o m m e n t on topical subjects and a droll feel for the city of the eighties. The roster of characters was reduced to twelve: lawyers cost more than cops. (This is the original cast.)
lacked the bite and irony of Steven Bochco's shows, this series, produced by Ed Zwick and Marshall Herskovitz, was the first major contribution of the "lost" seventies generation.
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applied this imaginative and innovative style to a group of lawyers. L.A. Law covered h u n d r e d s of issues with wit and perception during its long run. It m a y be r e m e m b e r e d as t h e emblematic television s h o w of t h e eighties, since it dealt almost as often with business issues as with political issues, and it was business that characterized that decade in America. You can see w h a t was happening here: television in the eighties, like film in the sixties, was mature enough to develop a self-consciousness. It wasn't enough to make a television show; n o w it was necessary to couch that program in ironic a n d sophisticated narrative forms. In the sixties, m a n y of the better j o u r n e y m a n filmmakers came out of television. In the eighties and nineties, m a n y filmmakers found more rewarding work, esthetically and intellectually, in television. The tide had turned. While we are still trained to separate the two forms, artists for quite a while n o w have considered t h e m two halves of the same coin. Until the late seventies it was c o m m o n knowledge that television stars could never carry feature films. Many had tried and failed. But w h e n J o h n Travolta and Henry Winkler successfully m a d e the transition from the smaller screen to the larger, a n e w era began. Actors moved back and forth between the two forms at will, while m a n y of the brighter y o u n g film directors of the seventies (Claudia Weill is an example) found more interested and comfortable artistic lives in television. Writers found the electronic m e d i u m most welcoming. In the feature film world, writers are still considered hired guns, with little artistic control, while in
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Figure 6-40. Dick Wolf's Law and Order ( 1 9 9 0 - ) e m p h a sized ideas over character to such an extent that it was able to maintain its position for five years while c h a n g i n g actors every year. Of the six original leads, four of w h o m are pictured here, only one remained by 1994. No other prime time series has been able to do that. From left: Chris Noth, George Dzundza, Michael Moriarty, Richard Brooks.
television the writer-producer has become the artistic hero of the day, with real power, as Bochco and m a n y others discovered. The collision of styles and genres best exemplified by Bochco's w o r k also marked other series of the eighties and early nineties. Michael Mann's Miami Vice (1985-89) set a Film-Noir cop show in the colorful pastels of the n e w capital of Latino America with a hip sound track to match. Glenn Gordon Caron's stylish c o m e d y Moonlighting ( 1 9 8 5 - 8 9 ) often referenced itself. E d w a r d Zwick's a n d Marshall Fferskovitz's thirtysomething (1987-91), while sticking to the basic soap opera mode of narrative, often toyed with stylistic tricks. By 1990, the p e n d u l u m was swinging again. Northern Exposure, the creation of Joshua Brand and J o h n Falsey, w h o had come out of Sr. Elsewhere, reprised the large collection of kooky Altmanesque characters from that series but without the issues. Set in Alaska, and shot entirely o n location in Washington State, t h e show's emotional theme proved as chilly as its locale: an emblem of the AfDS ice age in sexual relations for twenty-somethings. David Lynch's short-lived Twin Peaks (1990-91) confirmed this quirky postmodern trend. More interesting was Dick Wolf's Law and Order (also 1990), which paid h o m age to Jack Webb's pioneering Dragnet of thirty years earlier. Shot in New York,
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Television and Video To confront the t w i n challenges of VCR a n d cable, broadcasters t u r n e d to a style that came to be k n o w n as "reality-based programming." ff the phrase seems awkward, so does the genre: the relationship between "reality" and the programming is often quite strained. First-run syndication, fn which the producers of the programs m a k e deals directly with local stations (or cable systems), became the v e n u e for reality-based programming. As reality shows boomed, so did the firstr u n syndication market. The eighties saw a host of n e w competitors to J o h n n y Carson in the late-night t i m e slot, some successful (David Letterman, Arsenio Hall), m a n y n o t (Joan Rivers), and a n even greater n u m b e r of n e w entries in the tawdry daytime talkshow field that h a d been pioneered by Phil D o n a h u e in the seventies. While the late-night shows focused o n showcasing entertainers plugging n e w products, the daytime shows engaged in feverish competition for lifestyle sideshow freaks usually with absurdly convoluted sexual proclivities. It h a d all started innocently enough: in the seventies Phil D o n a h u e had gained a good m e a s u r e of respect for reasoned contributions to the debate o n feminist and other political issues; but as the eighties wore on, the daytime talkshow circuit b e c a m e a circus of logical extremes, fn this p e r h a p s it only m i r r o r e d t h e unraveling of intelligence in m o s t areas of A m e r i c a n public life. By t h e mid1990s, the format had sunk to the level of sfeazeball Jerry Springer and smut-nut Howard Stern. Talkshows weren't the only genre in the reality-based category, fn a developm e n t unforeseen by even the most aggressive of film educators in the seventies, entertainment itself became a popular subject. Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert, two respected print film critics, pioneered the genre o n PBS in 1978. They were soon joined by half a dozen pairs of earnest m e n expressing opinions a n d exploiting film clips. Entertainment Tonight ( 1 9 8 1 - ) and its imitators covered the business of entertainment in professional detail every evening for millions of buffs. Rupert Murdoch, w h o h a d m a d e his fortune publishing tabloid newspapers, brought this sensibility to television with A Current Affair (1986- ), one of the first hits of his n e w Fox network. This traditional mix of gore and sensationalism was soon joined by a host of imitators, fn this, the syndicated tabloid shows weren't m u c h different from the average local n e w s shows, which increasingly concentrated o n the photogenic subjects of murder, arson, rape, and child abuse. Even the traditional networks joined the reality-based p r o g r a m m i n g tide as magazine shows became a staple of primetime following the lead of the venerable and profitable 60 Minutes. By the late 1990s magazine shows were nightly features o n most networksexceeding even the movie programming that h a d carried the networks t h r o u g h the 1970s. W h y ? The reality trend was part of the reason; so were the perennial high ratings of 60 Minutes; but the format became pervasive so quickly because these shows leveraged the existing n e w s departments at the net-
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works, they were cheap to produce, andmost importantthe networks didn't have to pay production fees to others. At a time when, for example, NBC found itself having to write a check to Warner for $850 million to keep its anchor show ER (as it did in 1998) and contracts with the sports leagues were denominated in billions, h o m e g r o w n news productions like the magazine shows were economically irresistible. One would like to suppose that the popularity of magazine shows represented a hunger for reality, but the "reality" that drove American television in the nineties was more absurd than any fiction. The decade began with Peter Arnett, CNN's star correspondent, on location in Baghdad dumbly describing the bombing that the night-vision cameras were capturing in shades of chartreuse and teal as the Gulf War ejaculated prematurely. Most of the middle of the decade, it seems in retrospect, was taken u p with the O. J. Simpson trial, a travesty of justice a n d media. Then we concluded with a fat cigar and a bang and the year of Monica (f 998), which included the actual broadcast of the president's grand jury testimonya legal travesty that dwarfed O. J. (even though it was tape-delayed). The presidential imbroglio was bookended nicely by the media circuses that fed on the deaths of secondary royalty: Diana (1997) and JFK Jr (1999).* The reality movement found more salutary manifestations in Public Broadcasting. Throughout its early growth in the seventies, PBS had depended heavily on British drama imports. As budgets tightened in the eighties, PBS producers turned * Fictional network television in the 1990s was so inconsequential that it is relegated to a footnote. Seinfeld, ER, and The Simpsons dominated. Law and Order kept the faith. David E. Kelley's name will be found in the history books but the shows he produced were pale copies of 1980s series. And shows about teenagers, for preteens, and mostly exploiting gross-out humor (Beavis and Butthead) constituted the only new additions to the tired repertoire. Grownups in the 1990s were watching the Food Channel, or the Internet.
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Figure 6 - 4 2 . A dramatic shot from Henry Hampton's landmark Eyes on the Prizejust example of the remarkable historical footage the series unearthed.
one
to h o m e g r o w n and less-expensive genres. The h o w - t o program became a welcome staple of public television as The French Chef pioneer Julia Child was joined by kindred spirits w h o remodeled old houses, fixed old cars, gardened, and, yes, cooked. After the success of Carl Sagan's Cosmos series in 1980, science and nature programs like Nova a n d Nature (usually international coproductions) became perennial anchors of the PBS schedule. By the mid-1990s each of these h o w - t o genres had its o w n cable network. The documentary, all but banished from the commercial networks, found a welcome h o m e o n public television schedules. Frontline ( 1 9 8 2 - ) showed that "reality-based" programming could be intelligent, relevanteven wise. Henry Hampton's moving and incisive Eyes on the Prize (1987, 1990), a definitive history of the civil rights m o v e m e n t in America, proved the real value of television as a historical m e d i u m . Ken Burns's The Civil War (1990) attracted record PBS audiences, more than half a million of w h o m also purchased the videocassette version advertised on the air. For the first time, television was confirmed as a reference medium. In 1986 Bill Moyers finally abandoned his flirtation with commercial network CBS to settle d o w n as public television's premiere essayist, moving from straight news to politics, from documentary to philosophy, with series like Joseph Campbell and The Power of Myth (1988) and A World of Ideas ( 1 9 8 8 - ). It's a sad commentary on the history of American television that Moyers may be the only working jour-
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Television a n d Video commercial and public television in the U.K. has led to the most creative television industry outside t h e U.S.and the only other o n e w i t h a n y real international presence. While cultural critics in France, England, a n d elsewhere w a r n against American "cultural imperialism," television executives a r o u n d the world still find it most profitable to "buy American," and the film/television industry remains one of America's very few export earners. Both radio a n d television were closely connected with the military during their infancies. The U.S. Department of Defense n o w operates n u m e r o u s television stations a n d radio transmitters worldwide. Far m o r e powerful is the global syndication network pioneered by NBC, CBS, and ABC and taken over by the Hollywood conglomerates after a 1971 FCC decision ruled that the networks could n o longer distribute programs t h e y themselves h a d n o t produced. (The "Fin-Syn" ruling was reversed in 1993.) At its international peak in the late 1970s, Bonanza could be seen each week by m o r e t h a n 400 million viewers in 90 countries. The 14-year r u n of Bonanza included 359 episodes. Before its syndication r u n ended, viewers m a y have spent more t h a n 143 trillion person-hours exposed to the values of the Cartwright family. In the next decade Dallas was almost as widespread, as was Baywatch in the 1990s. These are t h e n u m b e r s for a single program. H u n d r e d s are in distribution. UNESCO once estimated that 100,000 to 200,000 hours of American programming are available for export each year. Warner Brothers has controlled 52 foreign subsidiaries operating in 117 countries, and MCA had 24 subsidiaries dealing with 115 nations. Moreover, m a n y of those national television systems were built outright by the manufacturing arms of the American networks, or else b o u g h t their equipment from them. As early as 1972, w h e n satellite distribution was in its infancy, ABC's satellite coverage of the Olympic games was available to 2 billion people in 100 countries. The net result is cultural influence o n a n unprecedented scale. As the world economy has developed, entertainment has remained a n industry that America dominates, h i the sixties and seventies, cultural critics in the U.S. as well as abroad attributed this influence to some nefarious imperialistic impulse. The truth is simpler. American film and television have been formed by the marketplace ever since their beginnings. W h e r e "art" is often a concern for European film and television producers a n d directors, it has seldom been allowed to interfere with the process in the U.S. As a result, Hollywood turns out more marketable product, still, t h a n other countries do. Moreover, American actors look like everyone else. If you are Swedish or Italian, Nigerian or Thai, you are m o r e likely to find folks w h o look like you in a n American television show t h a n in, say, a French production. Per-
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Television a n d Video
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London Weekend) to come u p with original series. UpstairsI Downstairs (1971-75, sixty-eight episodes), which chronicled the lives of a well-to-do family and its servants from 1900 to 1930, was a major international success. A Family at War ( 1 9 7 0 - 7 1 , fifty-two episodes), the less glamorous saga of a family in Liverpool during World War II poised between middle and working classes, was less popular but more interesting dramatically. Frederic Raphael's The Glittering Prizes (1975, six episodes) followed t h e lives of a group of Cambridge students from the 1950s through the 1970s. All of these series had an international impact.* The most significant British export of that period, however, r e m a i n s Monty Python's Flying Circus. British dramatic series m a y just be more effective and eloquent versions of a m o d e of entertainment that is c o m m o n in the U.S., but British comedy is a radical departure from the American style. Monty Python, a half-hour string of skits, animation, wordplay, satire, and silliness, recognized once and for all that t h e elementary particle of television is the incident, n o t the show; that comedy can be at least as eloquent, dense, a n d rewarding as drama; a n d that "nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition."
Family
Because it is a continuing rather than a discrete experience, television has an extraordinary ability to mediate between the viewer and reality. Films m a y last two or three hours, during which time w e live in their world. Television is ongoing, never-ending, w h e t h e r in the context of a single day's programming or in * Although less innovative in the 1980s and 1990s, the British networks continued to produce exportable drama and comedy.
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Figure 6-44. THE METAMORPHOSIS OF THE TWENTIETH-CENTURY FAMILY. The ideal of the American family in the twenties: Dad and M o m , Junior and Sis in happy reunion around the dinner table, talking with each other and making eye contact. (The poses are cheated for the photo.) Note the four large glasses of milk. Later, in the forties, the nucleus of the nuclear family included the radio. They may be listening to the broadcast and talking less, but they are still making eye contact. By the sixties, the dream was m o r i b u n d . The nuclear family had become an audience. They can't see each other or hear each other. By the eighties, everyone had their own TV and didn't have to sit together. (Courtesy Archive Photos/Lambert.)
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MEDIA:
IN T H E
MIDDLE OF
THINGS
VIRTUAL FAMILIES
Figure 6-45.
F I F T I E S . What better
subject of conversation for the permanent electronic guest in the living room than families? To a significant extent, television families have replaced our own. The strategy thrives, since "drawing r o o m " drama, dependent on dialogue rather than imagery, intimate and psychological, fits the small screen very well. American television f a m i lies tend to be simple, "nuclear": a mother, father, and a couple of children. The Nelson family, which literally grew up on television, remains the prototype. Ozzie, an ex-bandleader, and his wife Harriet, a singer, starred with their two sons, David and Ricky. David later enjoyed a career in the business; Ricky became a rock star, dying dramatically in a plane crash. Over the next forty years, the Nelson family was often m i m i c k e d , never rivaled, for its good-natured gemutlichkeit.
made-for-television movie as their model. These defenses were not successful, but the issue was sharply drawn. In the 1970s a n e w line of argument developed. In her 1977 book The Plug-in Drug, Marie W i n n shifted t h e focus of censure from the subject m a t t e r to the experience of the medium. The problem with television, Winn contended, is not what it shows but how it shows it. She m a d e a convincing a r g u m e n t that the medium inculcates passivity in children, and suggested that exposure to television might very well affect even the neurological development of small children. Winn discussed the effect of television on language abilities and investigated its relationship to changed states of consciousness, but the crux of her a r g u m e n t a n d it remains a powerful onelay in her critique of the destruction of family life by the presence of television. For Winn, the box had become a surrogate parent, taking over most of the work of presenting and developing social and ethical values and in the process achieving a m u c h greater degree of authority than the child's biological parents. The title of her book was not meant to be metaphorical. Parents, she says, first use television precisely like a drug, to k e e p children quiet. Eventually t h e child becomes addicted and the box becomes a necessary, lifelong habit.
Television a n d Video
VIRTUAL FAMILIES
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Figure 6-46. F I F T I E S . The Nelsons' closest competitor in the fifties was the Anderson family of Father Knows Best. Robert Young (later an equally model doctor) and Jane Wyatt starred. Elinor Donohue, Billy Gray, and Lauren Chapin were the kids. Spending time with the Nelsons and the Andersons in the fifties, we had less need of our own families.
Obviously, m a n y children do survive the television experience, but many also are affected deeply by it, and we still don't k n o w to what degree or how, nor do we k n o w what this will m e a n socially and politically. Much of the discussion of television as a social p h e n o m e n o n centers on this profound question. A year after Winn's book appeared, its thesis was made to look positively conservative by e x - a d m a n Jerry Mander's o w n wide-ranging diatribe against his former meal-ticket. The title of that work was, simply, Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television. Mander was serious. He found a ready audience. Fifteen years later, his book was in its twenty-seventh printing. And nothing had changed.* Mander's "Four Arguments""The Mediation of Experience," "The Colonization of Experience," "Effects of Television on the H u m a n Being," and "The Inherent Biases of Television"are convenient classifications for dozens of telling criticisms of the powerful m e d i u m that has defined the second half of the twentieth century. Roughly paraphrased, they include: television separates us from reality; television deprives us of choice in experience; artificial light is n o good for you; and television is such a weak m e d i u m that it distorts reality. Mander presents a
* Not quite t r u e . By 1992 t h e average American had thirty or m o r e c h a n n e l s at his c o m m a n d instead of t h r e e , t h e prospect of h u n d r e d s m o r e a r o u n d t h e corner, a n d a VCR in case t h e cable b r o k e d o w n . The average E u r o p e a n had a dozen c h a n n e l s to choose from instead of t w o , a n d satellites b o m b a r d i n g h i m with still m o r e signals, a n d a VCR.
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Figure 6-48. SEVENTIES. By the seventies, the ideal was seriously tarnished after ten years of generational conflict. The Bunkers of Queens, New York, and All in the Family (Norman Lear and Bud Yorkin, 1971) introduced real family issues and dealt with them with some understanding. Here, Gloria (Sally Struthers), Edith (Jean Stapleton), Archie (Carroll O'Connor), Mike (Rob Reiner), with Betty Garrett.
Figure6-49. SEVENTIES. In 1973 Craig Gilbert's PBS series An American Family portrayed the Louds of Santa Barbara in provocative cinema-verite style. Living with the family for a year, the filmmakers collected enough drama for a soap opera, including the breakup of the marriage and oldest son Lance's participation in the New York homosexual scene, a taboo television subject at the time. The Louds became national celebrities protesting that the filmmakers focused on the negatives of their family life, ignoring the positives.
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Figure 6-50. SEVENTIES. The family as self-parody: the Hartman/Shumway clan of Mary Hart man, Mary Hart man (Norman Lear, 1976). Part soap opera, part satire, part neurotic psychodrama, MH, MH marked a satiric point of no return for the American television family.
Figure 6 - 5 1 . E I G H T I E S . Challenging the mythos of the seventies, the Huxtable clan (pictured here in one of its variations), brought new life to the ideal in the eighties, blurring racial lines in the process. Left to right behind Bill Cosby: Sabrina LeBeauf, Keshia KnightPulliam, Lisa Bonet, Malcolm JamalWarner, Phylicia Rashad, and Tempestt Bledsoe.
Figure6-52. N I N E T I E S .
Cosby
Show producers Marcy Carsey and Tom Werner scored again with the realistic working-class family of Roseanne (1988-1997). Roseanne and Dan (John Goodman) did a pretty good job raising D. J., Darlene, and Becky.
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Figure 6-53.
N I N E T I E S .
As The
Cosby Show dominated the eighties, so the dysfunctional Simpsons ruled the nineties. The family p e n d u l u m has swung back to the " d u m b D a d " position. Kids enjoy the postmodern references and thick parody. At least Marge and Homer are still together.
powerful indictment of the ultimate mass medium of the twentieth century. But of all the points he makes, one stands out: most of us n o w let television lead our lives for us; this seductive and pervasive product has deprived us of intimate contact with reality. In 1985 social critic Neil Postman joined the battle with Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business, a parallel critique, which focused on the effect of television and our entertainment universe o n politics. Postman insightfully differentiated between the two seminal jeremiads of the mid-twentieth century, George Orwell's 1984 and Aldous Huxley's Brave New World: What Orwell feared were those w h o would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be n o reason to ban a book, for there would be n o one w h o wanted to read one. Orwell feared those w h o would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those w h o would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared w e would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivialized culture.... In 1984, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us [pp. viii-ix]. Postman was writing in 1985. Orwell's dread milestone had come and gone and his prophecy was losing currency. Indeed, Orwell's dark vision of that totalitarian threat was most strikingly c o m m e m o r a t e d at the beginning of 1984 in
Television a n d Video
VIK I UAL U N I - A M I L I L S Figure 6-54. NINETIES. What the Simpsons did for the the dysfunctional dysfunctional family, nonthe foursome Homer (When Se/nfe(1991-98)didfor family, reveling in eternal adolescence, X. The singles Boomers' sad gift to Gen ran through more lovers in seven years than did doughnuts.
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marriage threatened George, the only way out was to kill off the would-be bride.) Formally, the show succeeded because of its elegant attention to classic comedic styles: Michael Richards's slapstick, Jerry Seinfeld's and Jason Alexander's straight-man takes. odd couple, and Julia Louis-Dreyfus's
Apple Computer's famous Super Bowl commercial introducing the Macintosh. In Apple's Orwellian marketing metaphor, IBM was t h e totalitarian power and the Macintosh was offered as salvation: "the computer for the rest of us." Talk about trivialization! Even Orwell's o w n eloquent fear had been neutralized by a Huxleyan device! From the perspective of the late 1990s, the ascendancy of Huxley is even more apparent. The Soviet Union, a primary object of Orwell's fear, has ceased to exist. The Cold War is over. Even IBM has been transcended by Microsoft. Meanwhile, the quantity of images and sounds that bombard us has increased exponentially; their producers have ever more powerful tools at their command; the video culture is increasingly homogenized; and the images and sounds themselves continue to move inexorably away from reality and toward fantasy. Someone else's fantasy. The problem, clearly, is not that Big Brother is watching us, but that we are watching Big Brother. As Mander puts it: ft causes images in our brain. We call this experience, but we can't tell if it is our experience or something else, ft is in our heads, but we didn't create it. We don't know if it is real or if it isn't. We can't stop the broadcasts. We accept whatever comes. One vision is equal to the next. One thought is as good as the next. All information merges.
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MUUNEDIft THE
INVOLUTION
V
w s
In the beginning, there was the sign. The sign was spoken and sung. Then it was written, first as picture, t h e n as word. Eventually the sign was printed. The ingenious coding system that was writing allowed ideas and feelings, descriptions and observations to be captured and preserved. The technology of printing liberated these written records from isolated libraries, allowing t h e m to be communicated to thousands, t h e n millions. They are the glue that binds our culture together. As the scientific revolution took hold in the nineteenth century, w e discovered m e t h o d s to c a p t u r e images a n d s o u n d s technologically. P h o t o g r a p h y , t h e n records a n d film, reproduced reality without the intervention of words. At least w e t h o u g h t they did. We accepted their representations as if they w e r e real. In fact, they w e r e simply a different set of codes. While far more verisimilitudinous t h a n words, the images and sounds of cinema are still code systemsdistillations of reality, sometimes distortions of it, always imaginations of it. That's w h y it is necessary to learn h o w to read a film. Movies and their offspring have defined the twentieth century for us. B u t n o w w e find ourselves o n t h e verge of a n e w p h a s e in t h e history of media. The languages which w e invented to represent reality are merging. Film is n o longer separate from print. Books can include movies; movies, books. We call this synthesis "multimedia," or " n e w media." The technology offers tantalizing promise: instant and universal access to the world's knowledge and art, captured or p r o d u c e d w i t h a versatile set of media toois. But it also brings w i t h it some knotty challenges, both technical and ethical.
T h e Digital R e v o l u t i o n The Information Age is quite real. The microcomputer revolution of the 1980s has increased our access to a n d control over information a hundredfold. As that revolution matures over the next generation, information power will increase by another four or five magnitudes. Within our lifetimes, most of the world's knowledge will be available to m a n y of the world's people instantaneously and at negligible cost. There is n o turning back, nor is there any longer any doubt. We n o w k n o w that w e can index everything ever printed and that w e can build networks to access this print universe in seconds rather than years. (Similar access to audio and video remains beyond current our capabilities, a n d w e haven't yet thought seriously h o w to index images and sounds, but this will come, too.) There is a m e m o r a b l e scene in Godard's Les Carabiniers (1963) in w h i c h the two soldiers return to their wives after the war with their booty. They have postcards of all t h e world's wonders which they proudly display, o n e at a time: the Eiffel Tower, the Great Pyramid, the Empire State Building, the Grand Canyon.... They think these images are deeds to the properties. We laugh at their naivete as the pile of postcards m o u n t s . The scene is a n emblem of the information revolution: w e n o w have the deeds to all the world's intellectual riches. But w h a t will w e do with this unimaginable wealth? Perhaps w e are just as naive as Godard's carabiniers: w e have been given the keys to the virtual kingdom, but what about the reality that was once its subject? As w e noted in Chapter 1, the virtual world increasingly crowds out the natural world, and the very p o w e r that w e n o w have to manipulate these once precious images and sounds devalues them, destroying our faith in their honesty and our appreciation of their art. W h e n the first edition of this book appeared in 1977, it m a y have seemed strange that a n introduction to film included so m u c h about print and electronic media. At the time, movies and print seemed to have little in common: they were both communication systems, true, but the similarity ended there. Now, as the technologies and distribution systems used to reproduce and disseminate the two converge, w e can see h o w they fit together. This has happened almost by accident. No one set out in 1960 to find a technological c o m m o n denominator between books and movies. No Godard fan, noticing his fascination w i t h the clash of words a n d images, decided to find the link between the two. Nor did a Truffaut aficionado, after having seen Fahrenheit 451 or having read Truffaut's Hitchcock, dedicate years to discovering the technical c o m m o n b o n d b e t w e e n t h e t w o m e d i a w h i c h t h a t filmmaker/writer loved equally. The development of semiotics in the sixties and seventies was fortuitous, since it provided a single critical approach to b o t h written language a n d filmed language, but semiotics was a way of thmking, not a science; there were n o semiotics labs funded by governments to discover the basic building blocks of signification.
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Figure 7-1A. John and James Whitney pioneered computer-driven imagery in the 1960s. Here, frames from John Whitney's "Catalog" (1961). (John Whitney 1984. Used with Frame enlargements.) permission.
Figure 7-1B. Jordan Belson's films don't use computer techniques but they do c o m b i n e optical and mechanical effects with natural phenomena and many other experimental techniques to produce a rhythmic, abstract esthetic. These frames are from Belson's " S a m a d h i " (1967). (Jordan Belson 1989. Used with permission. Frame enlargements.)
In December 1968 Douglas Engelbart, a n employee of the Stanford Research Institute, demonstrated a n effective graphical user interface, fulfilling a dream first outlined b y physicist Vannevar B u s h in his seminal 1946 essay "As We M a y Think." In the early 1970s researchers at Xerox's Palo Alto Research Center and elsewhere combined t h e graphics o n the n o w ubiquitous CRT w i t h a separate physical pointing device that they called a m o u s e . W h a t m a y have appeared to Engelbart to be the end of a line of technological development n o w revealed itself as instead the beginning of a fertile and fascinating field of inquiry: the invention of a coherent visual and physical metaphor for the complex and subtle interaction b e t w e e n h u m a n s a n d their first true intellectual tools. Interface design rapidly became a subject of intense interest, ft isn't often that a n e w basic and universal language system is invented.* The twentieth century has seen two: first film, n o w the graphical interface. As n e w systems of communication, it was only a matter of time before the languages of film and computers merged to give birth to multimedia. Apple's Macintosh computer, introduced with great fanfare in J a n u a r y i984, marked the long-anticipated birth of multimedia. As the first microcomputer to * Just in time, too, to revive the science of semiotics. By the time the Macintosh was born, the best fitm semioticians were either dead or writing popular novels. In the early 1980s, as Apple was beginning work on the Mac, the locus of semiotic creativity had shifted from Paris to Cupertino.
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Figure 7-2. The " 1 9 8 4 " commercial introducing the Macintosh aired just once d u r i n g the Super Bowl, January 2 4 , 1984. Ridley Scott directed. Apple {Courtesy Computer, Inc. Frame &/. : "'
if
enlargements.)
The "consumer" celebrated in the fifties and sixties was yielding to the "user" of the eighties and nineties. The consumer had been a passive and dutiful partner for the great industrial producers of the first half of the twentieth century; the user was to become a n active, independent, and demanding client for the service providers of the next century. Little did w e know, as w e marched in the streets in t h e sixties chanting "Power to t h e People!," t h a t t h e p o w e r w o u l d indeed be grantedbut in the arts a n d communications, rather t h a n in politics a n d economics. This relationship between the counterculture of the sixties and the microcomputer culture of the eighties is curious but undeniable. Apple understood it early on, and profited by that understanding. The famous Super Bowl commercial that introduced the Macintosh as "the computer for the rest of us" in J a n u a r y 1984 traded heavily o n the residue of countercultural yearnings. Separately from the cultural mystique that it acquired, the microcomputer was also "revolutionary" in the purest sense of the term, since its historical progress is measured geometrically rather t h a n arithmetically. "Moore's Law" suggests that chip density (and by extension computing power) per dollar doubles every 18 m o n t h s . Gordon Moore, one of the founders of Intel, the dominant chip m a n u facturer, offered this rule of t h u m b early on. The history of the microcomputer over t h e past t w e n t y years bears u n c a n n y witness to its t r u t h . The m a c h i n e I bought in March 1994 ran 200 times faster t h a n the machine I bought in April 1981, had 200 times the storage capacity, and cost about the same. Those figures are almost exactly w h a t Moore's Law would have predicted. Adjust for inflation, and performance doubles yet again.
T h e Digital Revolution "You say you w a n t a revolution...." Digitization a n d computerization completed the profound shift in our cultural architecture that had begun in Edison's labs a century earlier. As t h e Information Age became a reality a n d knowledge joined labor a n d capital in the social equation, ideology couldn't keep u p . It is more t h a n coincidental that the rise of the microchip accompanied the end of the Cold War, a conjunction that Mikhaii Gorbachev himself once pointed out. Despite the exponential speed of the digital revolution in the eighties, it took more than twelve years after the introduction of the CD-ROM in 1985 before multimedia became a marketable product. The reason? Digitized images and sounds, not to mention movies, made extraordinary demands on processor speed, storage capacity, and communication bandwidth. The digital text for this book, fully formatted, amounts to about 2.5 megabytes. The black-and-white images and diagrams that appear in the book take u p a n additional 90 megabytes o n the DVD-ROM version (although they appear o n the disc at greatly reduced resolution; the book versions occupy 750 megabytes). The additional illustrations, color, animation, programming, texts, and movies fill u p most of the remaining 4,300 megabytes. In other words, the fully formatted text of How To Read a Film occupies less t h a n one-tenth of 1 percent of the disc space required for the multimedia version, while the images and sounds which merely illustrate it consume more t h a n 1,000 times as m u c h real estate. Some other numbers to think about: The standard computer screen of the mid-nineties, w h e n multimedia came of age, measured 640 by 480 pixels. II each pixel in a full-screen image was either black or white, 38,400 bytes would be necessary to describe that image.* However, if you have a standard VGA color screen, with a palette of 16 colors, multiply that n u m b e r by 4; if you have a basic Internet machine with a palette of 256 colors, multiply it by 8; and if you w a n t color approaching the quality of film or television, multiply it by 24. All of a sudden, a single screen occupies nearly a megabyte of storage. You see the disparity: you can store an entire bookor a single decent color image. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but should it cost 150,000? This is not a good deal.
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* In the world of microcomputers, a byte is a unit of measurement equal to 8 bits. A bit is a single value, either 1 or 0. The word "bit" is derived from "Binary digiT." If a bit is a letter, then a byte is a word. There is a lot of confusion about bits and bytes, megabits and megabytes, gigabits and gigabytes, most of it stemming from the application of the decimal prefixes (kilo, mega, giga) to a binary system. For example, a kilobit is not 1,000 bits but 1,024 bits ( 2 ) . For more detail on this and other digital issues see my Dictionary of New Media.
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Figure 7-3. REMOTES. (A) Warner-Amex Cable's Qube III cable television "keypad." Introduced in 1977, Qube was the early harbinger of the interactive cable market of the next century. It would have allowed the cable television viewer to select a large variety of programming channelssome of which incurred per-hour chargesand also to "talk back" to the cablecasting network. The technology wasn't ready and the experiment failed. But the keypad remote control changed our experience of the medium in the eighties. (B) By the nineties, the remote was ubiquitous, not only for television equipment but for audio and other devices, as well. These are the remotes the Monaco familytwo adults, three teenagersused in a small city apartment. The first three at the top (cable box, VCR, and TV) had to be employed as a troika to operate the living room equipment. The largest and smallest in the collection are the Laserdisc player and the Hi-8 camera, respectively. The space in the middle is reserved for the stereo remote.- we seem to have lost it. (Not shown: the DVD-Video remote; it's boring.) (C) We use these remotes in the country for three televisions, two stereos, and an old VCR. Note the wire on the VCR remote, vintage 1984. It is the only one of the complete set of fourteen that never gets lost. (D) These are the remotes accumulated so far by the Plumlee familytwo adults, one twoyear-old. Note Anna's toy remote (lower right). By the time she is old enough to channel surf, she'll have the technique down cold.
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O BACK. I
WAS THAT?
-n
Figure 7-3. MORE REMOTES. (E) A "Remote Possibility," as envisioned by Jeff MacGregor for The New York Times, October 1 6 , 1 9 9 4 . (Copyright mission.) (F) T h e remote reduced to its basic elements. 1994 by the New York Reprinted by perTimes Company.
Now, make that still color image move. Don't even think about 24 frames per second. Try 12it will almost work. Now you need more t h a n 11 megabytes for each second of jerky movie that you show. A CD-ROM, with its gargantuan storage capacity of 650 megabytes, could hold a minute of film (well, n o t quite). This is also n o t a good deal. The old analog world never looked so good. (Maybe this digital thing is a bad idea.) Finally, assiiming that you can find some way to lick the storage problem, remember that you will have to transfer 11 megabytes per second from disc to CPU to screen in order to show your 12-frames-persecond "movie," while the standard transfer rate of CD-ROMs in the late 1980s was 150,000 bytes per second.*
You n o w have some idea of the technical challenges that confronted the digital video pioneers! The solutions they worked o u t for this seemingly insurmountable problem are ingenious a n d instructive. For t h e most part, they were n o t initially hardware-based. Building chips that could process this a m o u n t of information quickly e n o u g h a n d at a reasonable price would have solved only half t h e prob-
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Figure 7-4. S T O R A G E T E C H N O L O G Y .
(A) The punched card that made IBM successful (1929) held eighty characters on 2 4 square inches. (B) The 8inch floppy disk (1971) held 128,000 characters on 5 0 square inches. (C) The DVD (1997) holds more than 4 billion characters on less than 2 0 square inches. (D) The singing ring from The Time Machine (802,701 AD) h o l d s . . . a little bit less, but requires no player, except Yvette Mimieux or Rod Taylor.
lem, since the storage demands were just as astronomical as the demands on the processors. Separate Digital Signal Processor chips (DSPs) are usefuleven necessarybut the first stage of multimedia was made possible by software that uses purely mathematical techniques that are as beautiful as they are effective.* * The calculations: 640 x 480 pixels x 1 bit per pixel = 307,200 bits. 307,200 bits / 8 bits per byte = 38,400 bytes. Four bits of color information yields 16 possible colors (2 to the fourth power). Twenty-four bits of color information yields more than 16 million colors (2 to the 24th power). This is the current standard for realistic digital color. 38,400 x 24 = 921,600 bytes. 921,600 bytes per screen x 12 frames per second = 1 1,059,200 bytes per second. * By 1996, a decade after CD-ROM had been introduced, manufacturers could produce 24X players at a reasonable cost. (Their transfer rate was twenty-four times the original 150,000 bytes per second.) These machines could handle the raw transfer rates necessary for video as described above, but by this time the compression routines were well established, and necessary for the still greater ambitions of DVD.
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Figure 7-5. DIGITAL CODING. Computer coding is an inventive combination of binary (base 2), hexadecimal (base 16) and decimal (base 10) numbering systems. The theory begins with a binary system, since each circuit can exhibit one of only two stateson or off, 1 or 0. While a binary number system is easy for machines, it is difficult for h u m a n beings. By the 1980s, the industry had settled on a standard system which combined binary "bits" (for Binary diglTS) into groups of eight, called a byte. Each half of the byte (a nibble) can represent a n u m b e r up to 16 (2 ) so numbers can easily be represented in hexadecimal notation (where the letters A through
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both upper- and lower-case, punctuation, numbers, accents, and accented letters.
Although they are too complex to detail here, suffice it to say that these algorithms compress the a m o u n t of data required to store and display a n image (or that succession of images k n o w n as a movie) by recording the difference between successive pixels or frames rather t h a n the individual values of each pixel in each frame. For example, a still image with a large background of a single color would take m u c h less r o o m to store t h a n the same image w i t h a multicolored, variegated background. It is the n u m b e r of changes that count, not the n u m b e r of pixels. Similarly, a movie that is slow moving with few cuts requires far less storage than a quickly changing scene with n u m e r o u s cuts. Only the differences between frames are recorded, n o t the complete data for each frame. The compression of each still image is k n o w n as "spatial compression;" the compression of succeeding frames is called "temporal compression." Both sets of algorithms are necessary to produce economically viable digital video. These compression techniques can easily reduce storage for a still image by a factor of 1 0 a n d storage for a moving image by a factor of 1 0 0 . So w e are back within the limits prescribed by the capacities of current hardware. The main standard for still image compression is k n o w n as JPEG (for the group that designed it,
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Figure 7-6. One of the first QuickTimes, this team cheer was included on Apple's first d e m o disk. (Courtesy Apple Computer, Inc. Frame enlargements.)
keting. The success of the CD in the audio market brought prices d o w n rapidly, m a k i n g this physical m e d i u m e v e n m o r e attractive for the c o m p u t e r industry which in 1985 adopted CD-ROM as the storage technology of the future. Ironically, Sony, like Philips, h a d little success in the multimedia market. During the early 1990s the company brought out at least four versions of a portable CD-ROM player, b u t n e i t h e r t h e Data Discman (in several incarnations), t h e B o o k m a n , n o r t h e M M C D player was accepted by t h e public. Success w o u l d come, but not until the next generation: DVD. The audio CD succeeded so quickly because Sony a n d Philips controlled the technology: a single uniform standard was adopted by all manufacturers. Conversely, until the advent of DVD, CD multimedia development was slowed by a multiplicity of approaches. In addition to the Apple Macintosh and Microsoft MPC formats and Sony's efforts, the list of erstwhile contenders included Philips's CD-I (introduced in 1991), Commodore's CDTV, Tandy's VIS, IBM's Ultimedia, and the game machines of Sega, Nintendo, Sony, and 3DO. Except for CD-I, all were nonstarters. Like its imitators, CD-I discs played o n a n attachment to the television set (priced at about $600 at introduction) controlled by a remote joystick that lacked a keyboard. CD-I was h a m p e r e d by two major limitations: the poor resolution of the television screen combined with the lack of a keyboard m e a n t that very little could b e d o n e w i t h text. CD-I t u r n e d o u t to b e little m o r e t h a n a playback m e d i u m for still images. The base technology simply hadn't the muscle to support effective video. Although h u n d r e d s of companies rushed to market in the early 1990s with CD-ROM-based products (many of t h e m quite ingenious), multimedia remained more a dream t h a n a reality. By 1995 most of the early multimedia producers were out of business. The only successful CD-ROM genres were games and text-centric products like encyclopedias and reference works. Indeed, by 1994 more encyclopedias were sold o n disc t h a n in traditional book form. The original specification for the CD aimed for a product that could deliver more t h a n a n h o u r of digital audio, uncompressed. DVD was designed to have the
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capacity to deliver a standard t w o - h o u r feature film o n a similar-sized disc. By using a laser with a shorter wavelength engineers were able to fit almost seven times as m a n y bits on t h e s a m e disc, b u t as w e h a v e seen t h a t is n o t nearly e n o u g h capacity for raw video.* Compression technology was necessary for a viabte product. Here's where it gets interesting. Compression algorithms come in two flavors, "lossy" and "nonlossy." As their names imply, nonlossy compression faithfully reproduces every digital value captured from the original, while lossy compression does not: it approximates some values. Furthermore, the very nature of digitization itself implies a loss of values. No matter h o w high the sampling rate, theoretically values in between the steps are lost. There are still audiophiles w h o complain about the "coldness" of CD reproduction, preferring the old-fashioned analog vinyl disks, despite their fragility. * To return to our earlier equations: 921,600 bytes per screen X 30 frames per second = 27.7 million bytes per second of uncompressed video. 4.7 billion bytes (the capacity of a single layer DVD) / 27.7 million bytes = 170 seconds, or less than 3 minutes of uncompressed video. DVD-Video compression routinely achieves greater than 100:1 ratios, boosting the capacity of a single layer so that there is plenty of room for an entire feature film. (Note: these numbers are simplified. In practice, it's more complicated.) Moreover, the specification allows for doublelayer and double-sided discs, so the ultimate capacity exceeds 18 billion bytes.
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Figure 7-8. THE BOOK "FORM FACTOR." The form that an old-fashioned book takes has been an alluring metaphor for microcomputer designers ever since the visionaries at Xerox PARC first described the ideal "Dynabook" in the early seventies. Sony introduced the Typecorder (A) in 1 9 8 1 , arguably the first laptop computer. It did nothing but word processing with a four-line LCD screen. The typing was recorded on a c o m m o n microcassette. It worked, but it gained no position in the market, and was quickly superseded by the Radio Shack 100, which had a full operating system. Sony introduced the ingenious Data Discman (B) ten years later. Based on a 3-inch CD disc enclosed in a plastic case and looking like a fat magnetic diskette, the Data Discman (and its successor the Bookman) could store several hundred megabytes of text and display it on a small screen. It was about the size of a large paperback. Sony kept its record of failure in the computer business intact: the Discman didn't catch on. After years of lagging in the portable computer market, Apple enjoyed huge success with its Powerbook (C), introduced in October 1 9 9 1 . A leading example of sensible ergonomic design, the Powerbook quickly became the status symbol a m o n g Hollywood players and others. Barry Diller credited his conversion to digitalism to the Powerbook. Apple was less immediately successful with the Newton (D), its first Personal Digital Assistant, introduced in 1993. Yet PDAs like the Palm Pilot eventually became almost as c o m m o n as the calculator or cellular phone. As a dedicated communicator and note taker, the Newton marked the beginning of the breakup of individual computer functions on dedicated devices. It had been foreshadowed eleven years earlier by the 1X0 Telecomputer (E), a tiny device with an even tinier screen that communicated over telephone lines at 3 0 0 baud. An interesting idea, far ahead of its time, the 1X0 failed quickly, superseded by the ubiquitous pager. UM.)
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Considering the formidable technical hurdles involved in digitization, the disorganized marketplace, and serious issues of quality, the seasoned cinephile m a y be excused for reacting cynically to the multimedia hype of the nineties. Artists have been combining text, images, and sounds since the invention of movies. Edison was the first multimedia artist, and film is the first mmtimedium. Digitizing the images and sounds gives the viewer a real measure of control over them, which is
T h e Myth of Multimedia a useful advance, but didn't the Laserdisc (still a n analog device) accomplish m u c h the same end? From a strictly cinematic point of view, it does. If our aim is simply to control t h e experience of w a t c h i n g movies, a fully c o m p u t e r i z e d laserdisc (or DVD) player is a decent solution to the problem. Moreover, the existence of a multimedia industry is not going to change the way filmmakers m a k e films in any significant way. As producer Joe Medjuck has pointed out, the artistic strength of Hollyw o o d (and by extension most filmmakers) is linear narrative, w h i c h is directly contrary to the interactivity that is the soul of multimedia. Filmmakers tell stories: "First this happens, t h e n this happens, then...." R a n d o m access to the parts of a movie can destroy its rhythms, its reasons for being. From a publisher's point of view, however, the advent of multimedia is a historic event nearly equal to the invention of movable type. For the first time, all media become available to the publisher. Books h a v e always h a d illustrations. Sometimes a picture is worth a thousand words. Moving pictures, then, should be worth 24,000 words per second. In the 1970s at Xerox PARC, scientist Alan Kay, one of the key figures in the microcomputer revolution, developed a model for the computer of the future that h e called the Dynabook. (Remember, this was before there was such a thing as a microcomputer.) Kay envisioned a hand-held computer that h a d m u c h the same "look a n d feel" as the book you are n o w holding (assuming you are reading the b o o k version of How To Read a Film). He u n d e r s t o o d t h e value of this ancient information format a n d a s s u m e d quite rightly that, as t h e c o m p u t e r people learned to say years later, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." Multimedia is a n important step in fulfilling the promise of the Dynabook. All that remains is to m a k e it portable, a n d flexible ... a n d m u c h faster (and, while we're at it, let's quadruple the resolution). In a sense, the format is misnamed. Since the main advantage of "multimedia" is that it unifies the various publishing media w e h a v e developed over the past h u n d r e d years, perhaps "unimedium" would be a better n a m e . This would focus our attention o n the job at hand: to produce a unified experience, communicating thoughts and feelings, using whichever information formats work best. More important, the real value of the format k n o w n as multimedia has m u c h less to do with the combination of media for which it is n a m e d t h a n it does with its coding system. Another better n a m e for the format would be "digital book." While, as w e have seen, digitization creates some serious problems for multimedia movies, it is n o less t h a n deliriously liberating for text. The advantages are several, and they are real. The most important is the ease with which digital text can be retrieved. Most printed nonfiction books have indexes, but digital text allows for "fulltext indexing," which m e a n s that every word is retrievable, and this is nearly as useful with
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Figure 7-9. At the Digital World multimedia show in 1 9 9 1 , Voyager employees were identified by their contrarian tee-shirts. (This was the show at w h i c h Apple introduced QuickTime.) (Courtesy Colin Holgate, Voyager.)
fiction as with nonfiction. ff the concept of the digital book is extended to the digital library, this unlimited and easy access method becomes a formidable intellectual tool. Commercial electronic indexing was pioneered in the late sixties a n d early seventies by companies such as Dialog and Lexis long before the CD-ROM and multimedia developments of the nineties. These online databases continue to perform a central function in the world of digital books, even n o w that they have b e e n joined by "portable" databases o n CD-ROM. Even a jukebox full of dozens of CD-ROMs can't approach the capacity of centralized databases, which is one of the reasons online technology will continue to play a role in multimedia publishing. The World Wide Web would be a n impenetrable thicket of data were it not for the search engines that drive it. Fulltext indexing also allows for the electronic variant of cross-referencing that has come to be k n o w n as hypertext, fn a hypertext document, the user controls the flow of the narrative logic, expanding or contracting the level of detail, going off o n tangents at will, or outlining the subject of discussion. With its ubiquitous pointers to relevant information a n d illustrations, hypertext provides a level of control over the text experience unmatched in print. Hypertext fulfills the dreams of authors w h o are fond of footnotes* (and parentheses) as well as the venerable editors of text commentaries like the Shakespeare Variorum and biblical concordances w h o had felt the need for a third dimension of textual narrative. N o w they have it. Digital text also offers the reader n e w control over the experiencea n e w degree of ownership of the text as well as the book in which it is housed. Digital text is easily copied and moved, sorted and modified. While this is of considerable * Still an effective way to give text a third dimension.
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Figure 7-10. The Oxford English Dictionary, one of the world's great p u b lishing enterprises, in its traditional 20-volume book f o r m and on CD. The CD-ROM is easily updatable as well as being easier to search and almost infinitely cheaper to manufacture. (Courtesy Oxford University Press.)
benefit to the reader, it poses some serious and interesting problems for the publisher, which we'll discuss shortly. Digital text still suffers from a lack of screen resolution, and given the choice, a printed book is still the best w a y to experience a text. With a digital book y o u can't m a k e marginal notes as easily, turn d o w n the comers of pages, or mark the text as flexibly, but those problems will be solved as w e approach the Dynabook, and the control and searchability of the digital book can m a k e u p for the rigid linearity of the physical experience. Perhaps t h e most valuable feature of digital text from a publisher's point of view is also its most m u n d a n e : its price. The cost of producing CDs or even magnetic diskettes is insignificant w h e n compared to the cost of producing even the simplest of books. Moreover, discsunlike bookscan be produced pretty m u c h o n d e m a n d . It is n o t necessary to invest in large inventories. Most readers are u n a w a r e of the economics of book production, b u t publishers constantly m u s t confront this painful dilemma. Most of the cost in printing is front loaded. It takes more time and effort to set u p t h e presses for a print r u n t h a n it does to do the actual printing. Thus, it is uneconomical to print just a few copies. Publishers are forced u n d e r the current technology to print a sufficient n u m b e r of copies so that the large costs involved in setup can be amortized in such a w a y that the unit cost is reasonable. More t h a n one publishing house has been destroyed by maintaining excessive invento-
T h e M y t h of M u l t i m e d i a
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riveirun, past Eve and Adam's, from swerve of shore to bend of bay, brings us by a commodius vie us of recirculation back to Howth Castle and Environs. rivverun, p a s t E v e a n d A d a m ' s , f r o m s w e r v e of shore to b e n d of b a y , b r i n g s u s b y a c o m m o d i u s v i c u s o f r e c i r c u l a t i o n b a c k to H o w t h Castle and Environs.
Figure 7 - 1 1 . On top, text in the Palatino typeface reproduced at a computer screen standard of 7 2 pixels per inch. Below, the same text as it appears in a book at approximately 2 6 0 0 dots per inch. (Set 12 points on 14-point leading.)
lines of Gerard Manley Hopkins, a little Lohengrin, and perhaps a David Hockney for the background. The legal doctrine of copyright has traditionally protected n o t ideas, but their expression. Because it brings all texts, images, and sounds into a uniform environment, digitization makes it a simple matter not only to reproduce those copyrightable objects with little or n o cost barrier, but also to modify t h e m in such a w a y as to meet the letter of the law, if not its spirit. W h e n does a quotation become plagiarism? W h e n does plagiarism become a n h o m a g e , a n e w work of art? These questions have been with us for a long time, but they gain added urgency in the digital age. Aside from laws dealing w i t h physical property, t h e o w n e r s h i p of intellectual property is a relatively n e w concept, with its roots in the nineteenth century. It m a y not last through the twenty-first century. Samplingthe reuse of other people's musicfirst became c o m m o n in the i980s w h e n professionals gained access to digital editing equipment. By the late 1990s, the availability of cheap CD recorders m e a n t that every high-school kid could dub his o w n "mix." The development of audio compression formats for the Internet like MP3 m a d e every hard disk a potential pirate jukebox.* By 1999, the music industry was in the throes of a revolution: it wasn't just the threat of universal piracy; it was also that musicians could n o w sell directly to listeners. W h a t h a d h a p p e n e d slowly in the print world was n o w spreading at Internet speed through the music world. It is only a matter of time before this is a n issue in video as well. * If audiophiles think poorly of uncompressed CD, they have nothing but contempt for the lossy compression of MP3. But the vast majority of Internet music hobbyists couldn't care less. After all, the popular music they trade is usually produced with electronic instruments of the same level of quality. We're not talking Stradivarius hereor even Zildjian vs Sabian cymbals.
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Figure 7-12. With hindsight, the merger of text, images, and sounds was irresistible. Jean-Luc Godard used the technology available in his time. These four shots from Le Gal Savoir ( 1 9 6 9 ) , c o m b i n e drawings, print, ads, cartoons, handwriting, and symbols. (I'Avant-Scene. enlargements.) Frame
the digital age w h e n fonts are m a d e of infinitely replicatable bits and bytes, and complete databases are the goal, not the bane, of listmakers. Typefaces are relatively simple intellectual properties, b u t the same patterns apply to texts, images, and movies. Indeed, the film industry has more experience t h a n any other in handling complex intellectual property rights issues. Film is, of course, a collaborative m e d i u m , a n d a n y industry lawyer is familiar w i t h the knotty problems of competing claims as to w h o owns what. Dozens of major contributors can lay claim to various pieces of t h e intellectual p r o p e r t y t h a t is a movie, from the a u t h o r of the originai source material to dozens of filmmakers and actors to n u m e r o u s distributors in n u m e r o u s markets. The trouble is that there is little logic to Hollywood rights law, and so the n e w multimedia industry will have to work out reasonable guidelines without the help of its predecessor. fn the end, if the copyright system is going to survive, it m a y only be because we apply prodigious amounts of digital processing power to the task of allocating percentages among the hundreds of individuals and companies that may contribute in some way to a multimedia production. The model would be music royalty organizations like ASCAP a n d BMI, or the British library Public Lending Rights program, that apportion certain amounts of revenue to authors by formula. The only other alternative is to abandon the idea of copyright altogether and return to the system that pertained until the n i n e t e e n t h century in which the value of a work of art was vested in its physical manifestation, n o t its abstract intellectual form. In the n e w world of virtual publishing, w h e r e every author is a publisher,
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Yet w e can sense t h e Tightness of multimedia: this is w h e r e w e h a v e b e e n headed for hundreds of years. If Sir Walter Scott could have added slide shows to his novels, h e would have. If Charles Dickens could have personally narrated his remarkable stories, h e would have (and did, to a certain extent, in his lucrative lecture tours). If Daniel Defoe could have included a n interactive database of historical statistics with Journal of the Plague Year, h e w o u l d have. If Georges Melies could have allowed his viewers to interact with Voyage to the Moon, h e would have. If George Bernard Shaw could have included ancillary texts with Candida or Man and Superman, h e would have (and did, in the published versions of his plays). If Preston Sturges could have spunoff his films as television series, h e would have. If Jean-Luc Godard could h a v e written a book that was also a movie, h e w o u l d have. If Francois Truffaut could have shot a movie that was also a book, h e would have, too. Text a n d images a n d sounds have b e e n separated for h u n d r e d s of years only because technology has lagged behind our imaginations. N o w it has caught up, a n d they are united, as they w e r e m e a n t to be: for better, for worse, in sickness and in health....
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Figure 7-13. In the broader sense of the term, virtual reality existed a long time before we gave a name to it. Perhaps the assassination of John Kennedy in November 1963 marked a turning point. The nation was united in a television drama. Here, Jack Ruby shoots Lee Harvey Oswald, live.
(Courtesy Photofest.)
broader sense here: as the technological m o v e m e n t toward increased verisimilitude and interactivity that is closely associated with multimedia. In either sense of the term, virtual reality simply extends a t h e m e that has been part of film history since the beginning. In the early years of this century, movie travelogues provided virtual j o u r n e y s for h o m e b o u n d w o u l d - b e travelers. As we've seen, filmmakers have b e e n experimenting with larger screens, 3-D, a n d stereo sound since the twenties. In 1953, This Is Cinerama took us o n a collective rollercoaster ride that is still the model for experiential cinema. As a technique to increase verisimilitude, virtual reality continues this tradition. The difference is in its interactivity, the degree of control over the experience that it provides to the viewer. Here the technology m a y miss the point. At the 1964-65 N e w York World's Fair, viewers at the Czechoslovak pavilion could vote to determine plot developm e n t s in the movie t h e y w e r e watching. In the late sixties a n d early seventies, several stage drama experiments offered audiences erstwhile control. The technique did not catch on, for obvious reasons. The National Lampoon satirized audience control with lethal effect in a mid-1970s skit. In their version of Waiting for Godot, the always i m m i n e n t guest shows u p only thirty seconds after t h e play begins. He and Didi and Gogo briefly discuss w h e r e to eat. (As I remember it, they decided o n Chinese.) As a t e c h n i q u e applied to games rather t h a n cinema, virtual reality shows more promise. The essence of a computer game is its interactivity, so the increased verisimilitude offered by virtual reality is useful to enhance the experience. The basic concept of a dungeons-and-dragons game is a multithreaded matrix of plots, while a battle game depends for its effect o n the adrenaline-boosting r h y t h m of
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Figure 7-14. Telepresence is one of the faces of virtual reality. Here, a demonstration of carpal tunnel surgical technique shows how the technology permits less invasive surgery. The inset shows the image the surgeon sees.
(Courtesy 3M Health Frame enlargement.) Care.
challenges. In both cases, virtual reality enhances the effect. But perhaps its greatest value is with that class of games that duplicate experience, such as flight simulators. Indeed, simulators are less games t h a n they are prototypes for virtual reality experience, a n d their great promise is educational. Perhaps w e are not quite ready yet to trust the training of our surgeons to a virtual-reality lab, but n u m e r ous other crafts and techniques can benefit from the simulator approach that has served airline pilots well for m a n y years. N o w that these devices have b e e n digitized, w e all have access to them. Indeed, the first successes of virtual reality (apart from games) have b e e n in the "how to" business, with CAD programs that allow us to envisionalbeit roughlyhow the n e w deck will look if w e build it the w a y we've designed it. Both key elements of virtual realityverisimilitude and interactivitylead to ethical questions. Digital images and sounds are more true to life only w h e n judged in their o w n context. No computer screen commercially available today comes close to the resolution of properly projected 35 m m film, to say nothing of superfilm technologies like Showscan and Imax. (Similarly, n o electronic screen can match the quality of a well-printed book.) And while the CD has m a d e digital sound the n e w standard, some audiophiles still prefer the older analog technology, as w e h a v e already noted. Are they simply esthetic Luddites? The acuity of a digitally reproduced sound or image depends o n t w o m a t h e matical factors: t h e n u m b e r of samples a n d t h e precisionor depthof each sample. For moving pictures, add a third factor: the frame rate. Theoretically, to match the accuracy of analog reproduction, digital sampling rates would need to a p p r o a c h infinity. Luckily this is n o t t h e case in practice. As w e h a v e seen in Chapter 2, the invention of film itself depended o n limitations of h u m a n perception. We only need to exceed those limitations by a measurable margin for error. Moreover, analog techniques of reproduction are themselves far from perfect.
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Figure 7-15. FULLY IMMERSIVE VR. A woman playing Cybertron finds herself ensconced in the middle of a gyroscope which, combined with a head-mounted video display and a 4channel audio system, attacks most of her senses. The system weighed 750 pounds and required 80 square feet of floor space. Not for couch
Digital models need only match or exceed their analog predecessorsfor the time being. The problem is that they don't, yet. While it is arguable that the audio CD standard is close enough, and it is likely that the 16 million colors available o n a highend computer video driver are sufficiently precise, the resolution of the screen, and the prodigious compromises necessary to store motion pictures still impose significant limitations, despite rapid advances in compression technology. In the sixties, t h e story goes, Ingmar B e r g m a n suffered from guilt over the inherent dishonesty of his chosen medium. Bergman brooded over the fact that m o r e t h a n 50 percent of the time his audience was watching a perfectly blank screen. Imagine his distress w h e n confronted with digital imagery, which compounds that singular trick of the movies a thousandfold! The interactive element of virtual reality presents an additional ethical problem. As w e involve the viewer-turned-user in the artistic decision-making process we m a y abrogate the responsibility of authorship. The very richness of the virtualreality m u l t i m e d i a e n v i r o n m e n t can b e misleading. The m o r e w e a t t e m p t to duplicate reality, the more freedom w e create for the user to manipulate and control this environment, the farther away w e seem to get from the point of it all. The closer w e come to the full reproduction of reality, the more w e lose the dialectic between art and its subject. The term "virtual reality" is, after all, a n oxymoron. In physics, w h a t is real is real, w h a t is virtual is not real. The result is that, like David B o w m a n at t h e e n d of 2001, virtual reality users find themselves in a cagea beautiful cage, but all the more constricting just because it appears to be open.
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Figure 7-16. QuickTime VR, introduced by Apple in 1995, turned movies inside out. Here, the artist gives you the space or the object, and you choose how to view it. If movies are paintings, QuickTime VR is both architecture and sculpture. These frames are from the "Balcony" QTVR, the first released demo of the technology. Thirty-three stills were stitched together into a continuous panorama which the user can navigate at will (Courtesy Apple Computer, Inc.)
The comparison with the drug experience is apt. As The Beaties put it: Nothing is real And nothing to get h u n g about... .* We've already noted the parallels between psychoactive chemicals and our traditional plug-in drugs. Fully immersive virtual reality is the electronic superdrug. "Strawberry fields forever." While the philosophy of virtual reality raises these ethical questions, o n a more practical level, certain virtual-reality technologies show immediate promiseand in a w a y w e might not have expected. Apple's QuickTime VR is one of these. Previewed at the Digital World show in J u n e 1994, three years after the debut of the original QuickTime, QTVR a n d its competitors t u r n that movie technology o n its head. Using the same underlying algorithms that approximate movies in a digital environment, VR permits the user to change point of view, to t o u r a space at will. The m o v e m e n t of t h e m o u s e determines the camera's point of view, and a click of the mouse controls the position of the camera. Panoramic still photographs taken at one or more locations in the subject space are stored o n disc. QuickTime VR processes these complete b u t distorted records to present a properly proportioned still image from the point of view the user has chosen. Users can zoom and p a n as they like. If more t h a n one position in the space has been recorded, users can move from point to point. If n o 3 6 0 panoramic record exists, a separate VR preprocessor will create o n e from a * "Strawberry Fields Forever," copyright 1967, Northern Songs Ltd. Reprinted with permission.
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ACTUAL FURNITURE
VIRTUAL FURNITURE
Figure 7-17. VIRTUAL FURNITURE. While we might easily assume that virtual reality is a product of developing technology, perhaps there are underlying economic motivations: in an overcrowded world, there isn't enough real reality to go around, so many of us are going to have to make do with synthetic reality. Much the same has happened to furniture in the last 35 years. For many centuries, the world over, furniture was constructed of lumber joined mechanically rabbet, mortise and tenon, dovetailsand glued. The industrial revolution brought the metal screw to replace the peg, but the basic philosophy of joinery didn't change. That tradition has been superseded in recent years by a method of construction that relies on imitation wood and shifts the burden of construction from the carpenter to the user whojust as in VR entertainmentis provided with an ingenious technology that makes the work of construction appear easier, even though it isn't. The result is a virtual product that appears to meet our criteriabut has an exceedingly short lifespan. Perhaps the same will prove true with VR media.
series of r o u g h stills. The technology also allows t h e user to track a r o u n d a n objectthe reverse of panning around a space. Now this is hardly the stuff that virtual-reality visionaries dream of. There is n o attempt to overwhelm the senses; the user remains in control. The genius of the QuickTime VR technology is in its simplicity. It elegantly and intuitively capitalizes o n the singular advantage that digital films have over their analog predecessors: the ability to approximate n e w images by interpolating old ones, which is the heritage of the compression techniques that had to be developed to deal with the formidable numerical r e q u i r e m e n t s of digital cinema. QuickTime VR is the latest example of a classic pattern in the arts: the limitations of the m e d i u m yield its essential utility. The main disadvantage of digital movies has become the engine of a n e w technology. Of course, this n e w technology is not movies; "stillies" might be a better term. It creates a place, n o t a narrative. It denies b o t h mise-en-scene a n d montage. It
550
T h e Myth of Cyberspace
551
Figure 7-18. This is a late model of the French Minitel, first introduced in 1981. To save space, the keyboard folds up. The design goal was to occupy a smaller "footprint" than a telephone directory. (JM)
instantaneous speed combined with the anonymity of typed messages and access to tens of thousands of strangers the world over quickfy proved to be a n addictive combination. By the late 1980s, the Minitel had been institutionalized in France: thousands of everyday products listed their Minitel numbers as marketers found a n e w way to build a direct path to their customers. Minitel served as a clear model for the development of the Internet and the World Wide Web: all the elements were there. It worked so well, in fact, that Internet services grew very slowly in France in the 1990s: consumers were satisfied with the older, simpler, and more convenient system. While Minitel was succeeding during the 1980s, a n u m b e r of similar American experiments failed, mainly due to misunderstanding of the market for such services. Some, such as Knight-Ridder's a n d Times-Mirror's experiments, chose to broadcast o n television, confusing the m e d i u m with its sobriquet, videotext.* Not only did this impose a centralized authority o n w h a t was m e a n t to be a one-toone communications m e d i u m , it also suffered from the inability of the average television screen to reproduce text. Others, like IBM's a n d Sears's Prodigy, relied o n a n outdated n e t w o r k m o d e l (again, the massive central host, although this time with subsidiary masters), and a graphics system that was equally out of date. NAPLPS, the North American Presentation Level Protocol Standard, h a d b e e n devised in the early 1980s as the U.S.'s and Canada's answer to Britain's pioneer-
552
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Figure 7-19. Microsoft's Cinemania CD-ROM, first published in 1 9 9 2 , was one of the early examples of a multimedia reference work. The keyword indexing is just as valuable as the pictures a n d sounds.
ing Prestel graphics language a n d Minitel's Teletel protocol. Prodigy adopted NAPLPS just t w o years before m u c h more sophisticated graphical user interfaces became ubiquitous o n the nation's microcomputers. The brief history of online graphics is quite interesting. A n engineer for t h e British Post Office n a m e d Sam Fedida h a d come u p w i t h t h e basic concept of Prestel in the early 1970s. The aim was to produce a n online system for consumers. From the beginning, basic graphics were to be a part of the servicethis at a time w h e n microcomputers didn't exist and time-sharing terminals, their equiva* Although a number of terms were in use in the early 1980s as the industry was being formed, English-speakers eventually settled on "videotext" to describe the telephone-based systems like Prestel and Minitel, and "teletext" to describe the video-based systems like Ceefax and Oracle. Of course, it should have been the reverse. Later, videotext lost its final "t." The remaining stub reminded one of disposable paper productsnot a felicitous analogy. By the way, the U.S. tried teletext too, with an equal lack of success. Here, the problem was much simpler. In the U.K., where the medium succeeded, all television sets were manufactured with teletext decoders; in the U.S., they were not.
T h e Myth of Cyberspace
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553
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Jean-Luc Godard
Biography There's also a combined view of the filmographies below. See only the titles with merchandising links. The IMDb has f i l m o g r a p h i e 3 for Jean-Luc Godard in the following categories: Director Writer Actor Editor Producer Cinematographer
Director
filmography
1. For Ever Mozart (1996) TLG/TLG - autQgof'jait.de derarabre as)iH' 2. ll..,G/!l.,(;-antr 7-20. Reference works on the Web, such as the Internet Movie
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(www.IMDB.com), offer less bandwidth a n d independence than CDs, but are capable of being instantly a n d continuously updated.
lent at that time, were strictly character-based. The Presteland later Minitel graphics character sets w e r e ingenious solutions to t h e problem of transmitting graphics over telephone lines. (They used t h e upper-ASCII character set to produce elements for a mosaic graphics format.) The basic colors a n d shapes greatly added to the effectiveness of the display of characters a n d simple drawings without attempting the then-arduous task of re-creating photographic imagery. NAPLPS, ambitiously, attempted to extend t h e idea to m o r e complex vector graphics. The ambition proved hubristic, as pixel-based graphical user interfaces like the Macintosh quickly established themselves. The engineers at Prodigy (the only ongoing system ever to use NAPLPS), focusing paternally o n t h e graphic responsibilities of t h e central host computer, h a d ignored the revolution going o n around t h e m . As microcomputers spread, increasing the general wealth of computing power a millionfold, there was n o longer any need for NAPLPSor IBM's mainframes, for that matter. A l t h o u g h it w a s n o t a financial success, Prodigy nevertheless accumulated some t w o million users during the five years after its introduction in 1988. At the
554
T h e M y t h of C y b e r s p a c e
Atew Figure 7 - 2 1 . With a rare display of wit, The New York limes ran this graph to accompany a serious story on the growth of the Internet at the beginning of net mania. May 15,1994. (Copyright 1994 by the New York Times Company. Reprinted by permission.) Dawn
sftt*
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Partly as a response to this need, by 1994 the Internet had become the online focus of attention in the press. Descendent of the Defense Department's Arpanet, t h e I n t e r n e t p r o v i d e d a massive n e t w o r k of i n t e r c o n n e c t e d h o s t c o m p u t e r s around the world, and therefore w h a t appeared to be a perfect path to a n infinite variety of special-interest services. What's more, it was "free," since t h e governm e n t a n d t h e universities w e r e still contributing to its u p k e e p . This transition happened m o r e quickly t h a n anyone familiar with the long history of the Intern e t could have forecast. Like fax before it, t h e Net was a technology with m o r e than a twenty-year history behind it w h e n it took off. Most observers credited its metamorphosis from a network of government, scientific, and military networks to a n international commercial online m e d i u m of u n p r e c e d e n t e d p o w e r to t h e development of the technology k n o w n as the "World Wide Web." Tim Berners-Lee, a n Englishman working at the European Center for Particle Physics ("CERN") in Switzerland first suggested t h e concept of t h e World Wide Web in 1989 and developed the basic hypertext technology in 1990. It was based o n work h e had done as early as 1980. The idea of hypertext linking was not new; but t h e ambition of linking to a n y w h e r e o n t h e Internet h a d profound implica* This is one of the more remarkable aspects of Internet history. The government no longer supports the network, but the transition has been seamless and economically painless. The commercial opportunities appear to be so vast, that the telecommunications companies have been more than willing to invest tens of billions to develop the necessary communications infrastructure.
T h e M y t h of C y b e r s p a c e
B. E a s t e r n E u r o p e T o d a y
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C. U k r a i n e . A P i e c e of t h e F o r m e r Soviet Union
D. N i k o l a y e v P r o v i n c e , a P i e c e of U k r a i n e
Figure 7 - 2 2 . POLITICAL FRACTALIZATION. T h e disintegration of national structures in Eastern Europe in the nineties revealed the political fractalization that created t h e m in the first place. Just as fractal mathematics are used to build complex figures out of small designs, so, in reverse order, larger political units break down into smaller a n d smaller components until neighbor takes u p arms against neighbor.
Search engine companies p r o v e d to be almost as valuable as Netscape, t h e browser company. W h e n Yahoo w e n t public in 1996 they w e r e valued at $300 million. This m a y n o t seem like a lot in Internet dollars, butrememberthere were fewer t h a n 30 employees at t h e time. Because of t h e vast a m o u n t of material available o n t h e Internet, t h e search engines, which indexed a n d sorted t h e world's websites, served as unofficial entry points. As such, they quickly garnered m u c h of t h e advertising revenue that soon began to flow. By 1998 such magnet sites h a d been dubbed "portals" a n d t h e established media companies rushed to a c q u i r e t h e m . I n t h e n e x t 18 m o n t h s D i s n e y b o u g h t Infoseek; Excite w a s acquired by Home (with AT&T b e h i n d t h e m ) ; Lycos w a s t h e target of Barry Diller's USA Networks (although t h e deal fell through).
558
"What Is to be Done?"
In 1980, the second edition of How To Read a Film concluded with a note o n democracy in the media which observed that, while n e w technology had extended our power to create media, distribution of print, film, a n d television was still concentrated in a relatively small n u m b e r of hands: The pervasion of the media has been a c o m m o n theme in science fiction ever since George Orwell's vision of 1984: "The instrument, the telescreen, could be dimmed but there was n o way of shutting it off completely." But the facts bear repeating: what w e still choose to call "reality" is n o w largely determined for us. It is not only that someone else is telling our stories it's also the kinds of stories they're telling. We t h e n suggested that the channels of distribution w e r e about to broaden, too, and listed a litany of imminent technologies from electronic mail to video o n demand, from online data services to fiber optic cable, from direct-to-home satellite broadcasting to computers in every h o m e . M a n y of these innovations are n o w
W h a t I s to be Done? part of our daily lives. Others are still o n the horizon. But one thing is clear: the digital revolution has radically altered the w a y w e deal w i t h realityno matter w h o determines it. My children, w h o were born after How To Read a Film first appeared a n d w h o largely grew u p before I got around to the third edition, have enjoyed a wealth of media u n k n o w n before 1980. They are prodigious consumers of television, video, CDs, computer games, software, a n d theatrical movies, a n d p e r h a p s surprisingly, considering the wealth of n e w mediaare not unfamiliar with the printed word. I m a y complain at the dinner table about our familial addiction to television (they m a y dim t h e telescreen, b u t t h e r e is n o w a y t h e y will s h u t it off completely), but they m a y be just as well read as their parents were at their age. More important t h a n the vast quantities of media they consume is the equally remarkable quantity they produce. They have at their disposal a range of software tools that w o u l d have astonished any professional writer, filmmaker, or painter twenty years ago. From the time they were six, they spent almost as m u c h time actively creating as passively consuming.* Shortly after they discovered HyperCard, they began a series of illustrated stories. W h e n Apple added sound to the software, so did they. To t h e m this wasn't multimedia; it was fun. The Orwellian year has come and gone. (We've forgotten w h o w o n the Super Bowl, b u t w e r e m e m b e r t h e commercial.) The warnings a b o u t control of t h e media seem less pointed t h a n they did fifteen years ago. We are now, most of us, so intoxicated with our n e w power to produce and to distribute media (media of all sorts: multi, uni, ulti, hyper, visual, textual, and traditional) that w e could care less w h o owns the old-fashioned media. A. J. Liebling, the great press critic, noted almost forty years ago that "freedom of the press belongs to those w h o o w n one." We are n o w nearly at the point w h e r e w e all o w n o n e a n d a film lab, a n d a recording studio. More important, the significant increase in distribution bandwidth during the eighties and nineties resulted in a political equilibrium in the media that is as frustrating as it is w e l c o m e . Most points of view get h e a r d . Most people h a v e a n acquaintance w i t h t h e issues of t h e day. No social or political p r o b l e m is left untreated in telefilms or talkshows. Most n e w ideas find their w a y to the public forum quickly a n d efficiently. It is n o longer us against t h e m . It is t h e m against t h e m . The political a n d social dialectic has evaporated u n d e r the incessant a n d copious bombardment of m o r e channels, more technologies, more media. Alain Tanner forecast this state of affairs a long time ago in Au Milieu du Monde (1974): * Lest you dismiss this as just a father's boast, I should admit the near balance was only possible because they worked on the computer at the same time that they watched television.
560
W h a t I s to be D o n e ? " they insist that the reader become a n active participant in the process, m a y give us opportunities to find our roots again. But ethics is the esthetics of the future. We m u s t focus o n the uses to w h i c h o u r talents a n d technologies are put. It is n o longer sufficient to k n o w h o w to read a film. N o w w e must also understand, in a profound way, h o w to use a film.
561
562
'What Is to be Done?'
And most important, w e need to remember that there is still a vestige of reality beyond film, beyond media, beyond multimedia. In this, w e have a guide. Writing in The New Yorker in the autumn of 1947 at about the same time George Orwell was sketching his dark vision of the future, essayist E. B. White extrapolated a world of media uncannily like our own. "Preposterous Parables: The Decline of Sport" drolly suggests a nation "in the third decade of the supersonic age" obsessed with games, besieged by loud and multifarious media, and laced breathless with superhighways (the concrete kind). Because of the fever, "records fell like ripe apples on a windy day," he notes. "Customs and manners changed, and the five-day business week was reduced to four days, t h e n to three, to give everyone a better chance to memorize the scores." In this world, as in our own, no one is content to take in one event at a time, "and thanks to the magic of radio and television nobody had to." What they don't see o n the field, they watch o n the video scoreboard, or listen to o n implanted radios, or watch on pocket televisions. Like the postsurrealist fantasies of artist Bruce McCall, White's parable finds warm comfort in mild absurdity. As it turns out, this media bubble is about to burst. In White's dream, the Midwest's classic Dust Bowl game of 1975, w h e n a football player is shot by a disgruntled spectator, marks the turning point, beginning a chain of other disasters in the stadiums and on the highways. "All in all, the afternoon of sport cost 20,003 lives. A record," White reports. From that day on, sport waned. Through long, noncompetitive Saturday afternoons, the stadia slumbered. Even the parkways fell into disuse as motorists rediscovered the charms of old, twisty roads that led through main streets and past barnyards, with their mild congestions and pleasant smells. It's time for us to hit those twisty roads again.
564
Figure 7-23. David Bowman's virtual cage at the conclusion to 2001: A Space Odyssey.
{Frame enlargement.)
" W h a t Is to b e D o n e ? "
565
And most important, we need to remember that there is still a vestige of reality beyond film, beyond media, beyond multimedia. In this, w e have a teacher. Gertrude Stein, a founder of the modern movement and cogent observer of it, made it clear that "Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose." (She would have found Chapter 3 tedious, perhaps.) For Stein, poetry isn't w h a t gets lost in translation, it is "really loving the n a m e of anything." She is as well remembered for her Paris salon as for her literary art, and rightly so, for everyday life was as important to her as literature. Like so m a n y of her colleagues and friends at the time, from Picasso to Hemingway, her life was a work of arta separate autobiography. In the Renaissance, the ftalian word for this quality was "sprezzatura," a kind of impatience with raw, unformed existence. Stein k n e w the proper balance between art and life. We have spent seven chapters investigating the former. Gertrude Stein had the answer to the latter. In one of the great exit lines in history, she exclaimed on her deathbed: What is the answer? A few m o m e n t s passed before she concluded: What is the question! That was the answer. Then she was gone.
566
Figure 7-24. Details from the Main Rotunda of the Lascaux cave paintings, Dordogne, France circa 1 5 , 0 0 0 BC: very real images, shadows from a pre-Platonic time that bring us back to the beginning. (Bettman Archives/UPI.)
" W h a t Is to b e D o n e ? "
567
3
And most important, w e need to remember that there is still a vestige of reality beyond film, beyond media, beyond multimedia. In this, we have a model. At the height of his career, William Shakespeare quit the playwrighting business to return to his h o m e town. His last play, The Tempest, was a conscious envoi to the audiences that had filled the Globe for more t h a n twenty years, ft was about theater, his medium, but it is not a celebration so m u c h as an escape. There is a real world outside the theatrical island of the play, and the aim of The Tempest and of Prospero (and of Shakespeare, we may infer) is to leave the magic behind and return to that reality. At the end, Prospero asks our leave: Now my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have's mine own, Which is most faint.
k -k k
Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else m y project fails, Which was to please. Now 1 want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; And my ending is despair Unless I be reliev'd by prayer, Which pierces so that it assaults Mercy itself and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free. Exit.
ACHRONOLOGY
IMAM MEDIA
To 1895: Prehistory
130
Ptolemy of Alexandria discovers the phenomenon of persistence of vision.
1250
Leon Battista Alberti invents forerunner of camera obscura.
1456
August 24. Heinrich Cremer finishes binding the first Gutenberg bibles, first books to be printed with movable type.
1700s
Rise of newspapers and journals.
1800s
Development of widespread iiteracy in England and elsewhere in Europe, and development as a consequence of mass media culture of books, magazines, and newspapers.
1810
Konig's steam-powered printing press.
1827
March 16. The first African-American newspaper, Freeman's Journal, appears.
1834
Zoetrope, based on an ancient invention, patented.
1839
Daguerreotype and Talbottype announced.
To 1895: Prehistory
571
1844
Morse's telegraph.
1846
Hoe's rotary press.
1850
Photographic magic lantern slides come into use.
1867
Sholes invents typewriter, to be exploited by Remington.
1873
Muybridge's experiments begin in photography of motion. He is successful in 1877.
1874
Emile Baudot, French engineer, receives a patent for his 5-unit telegraph codea great improvement over Morse code, and a foundation for the digital world of a hundred years later.
1876
Bell's telephone.
1877
Edison's phonograph. Reynaud's Praxinoscope.
1880
New York Graphic prints the first halftone photographs.
1884
Eastman's roll paper photographic medium. Mergenthaler's Linotype. The Nipkow disc introduces the concept of scanning.
1886
Henry James hires Scotsman Alexander Pollock Watt to manage his affairs. "He takes 1 0 % of what he gets for me," writes James, "but I am advised that his favorable action.. .more than makes up for this." Watt thus becomes the first literary agent.
1889
Development of Eastman's flexibte roll film medium for photography. Dickson demonstrates Kinetophone to Edison.
1891
Development of the Kinetoscope private viewer.
1895
December 28. Lumieres' first public showing of Cinematographe films at Grand Cafe, Boulevard des Capucines, Paris. Max Skladanowsky completes Bioskop projector.
572
1897
Edison begins patent infringement suits. May. Fire at film showing at Bazar de la Charite takes 140 lives. Edwin Porter joins Edison's company.
1899
James Stuart Blackton founds Vitagraph Company.
1900
At the Internationat Exposition in Paris, prototypical color and sound film systems are demonstrated. Danish telephone engineer Valdemar Poulsen patents "telegraphone," a wire recording system.
1901
First transatlantic wireless transmission, by Marconi from England to Newfoundland. Queen Victoria's funeral reported via fitm. Fessenden begins experiments in voice transmission.
1902
Melies's Voyage to the Moon. T. L. Tally's Electric Theatre opens in Los Angeles. The first Ealing studio is built in the western suburbs of London by Will Barber. Pathe opens studio at Vincennes.
1903
Porter's The Life of an American Fireman and The Great Train Robbery. Biograph moves to an indoor studio on New York's East 14th Street.
1905
Hepworth's Rescued by Rover.
1906
DeForest invents Audion vacuum tube.
1907
Griffith begins work in film as an actor.
573
1908
Emile Cohl (in France) and Winsor McKay (in the U.S.) begin work in animation. Pathe leads industry in abandoning outright sales of film in favor of rentals. Film d'art movement begins in France. June. American Biograph hires D. W. Griffith.
1909
The Motion Picture Patents Company is founded, soon followed by the General Film Company (distributors). Patent wars begin.
1910
Griffith and his company begin wintering in Los Angeles. The locus of major film activity shifts from New York to Los Angeles within the next few years.
1911
Mack Sennett's first Keystone comedy produced.
1912
Armstrong's regenerative circuit developed. Warner brothers begin producing films; Fox company and Universal formed. British Board of Film Censors formed. First fan magazines appear.
1913
Italian epics Quo Vadis? and Cabiria suggest value of feature-length films.
1915
Griffith's The Birth of a Nation signals beginning of new period in film history. Vachel Lindsay's The Art of the Moving Picture published.
1917
UFA formed in Germany. Kuleshov's workshop begins in Soviet Union.
1918
Armstrong's Superheterodyne circuit makes radio a commercial possibility.
1919
United Artists formed. Star system dominant in film industry. General Electric creates Radio Corporation of America to take over monopoly of American Marconi Company. Soviet film industry nationalized.
574
1920
Thanks in part to World War I, America dominates world film industry. Immigration of filmmakers to Hollywood starts. KDKA begins broadcasting in Pittsburgh.
1922
August 28. 5:15 pm. The first radio commercial: Mr. Blackwell, for the Queensboro Corp. on AT&T's WEAF in New York. Lang's Dr. Mabuse. Vertov's Kino-Pravda. Flaherty's Nanook of the North. BBC begins informally in Britain.
1923
Sutler's Saga of Gosta Berling, starring Greta Garbo. Stroheim's Greed, forerunner of contemporary realism. Timefirst "newsmagazine"begins publication.
1924
Columbia Pictures founded, MGM consolidated. Leger's Ballet Mecanique.
1925
London Film Society founded; film study develops in France. Eisenstein's Battleship Potemkin.
1926
August 6. Vitaphone (sound-on-record) premiere: Don Juan. November 15.8 pm to 12:25 am NBC begins network broadcasting with a program from the roof of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York featuring the New York Symphony, the New York Oratorio Society, Will Rogers, Weber & Fields, and Vincent Lopez. Twenty-five stations in 21 cities broadcast the program. Pudovkin's Film Technique published. Rudolph Valentino dies.
1927
British Cinematograph Act provides for a quota system. BBC chartered. U.S. Radio Act creates Federal Radio Commission (later FCC). Roxy Theatre opens in New York. April. Fox Movietone News begins, using sound-on-film system. October 6. Warner Brothers' The Jazz Singer, with music and several talking sequences, first popular sound success. CBS formed. January 1. NBC's Blue network begins broadcasting. German inventor Pfleumer devises magnetic tape system.
575
1928
RKO Radio Pictures Corporation formed by G.E./Westinghouse/R.C.A. to exploit R.C.A.'s sound patents in film. Television demonstrated by John Logie Baird in London. Massive transition to sound leads to increased influence of banking interests in film production. Crossley Radio Survey ratings begin. First published 1930. First "all-talking" picture: Lights ofN.Y. Dreyer's Passion de Jeanne d'Arc. Vertov's Man with a Movie Camera. Dali and Bunuel's Un Chien Andalou.
1929
Hitchcock's Blackmail, first British dialogue film. Mamoulian's Applause, one of the first successful musicals. Marx Brothers' first film, The Cocoanuts, presages massive exodus of Broadway talent to Hollywood. Amos 'n' Andy becomes first popular NBC network series. Conversion to sound has resulted in nearly twofold increase in box-office admission in two years (1927: 60 million admissions; 1929: 110 million). Electrical transcription introduced to radio.
1930
Production Code instituted, but laxly enforced. Necessity of foreign-language versions for export results in second wave of influx of European talent to Hollywood. Clair's Sous les toits de Paris, first French sound film. Von Sternberg's Blue Angel, with Marlene Dietrich. Disney's first Silly Symphony. U.S. brings antitrust suit against RCA and its patent allies. Grierson, Rotha, Wright, and Jennings involved in British documentary movement.
1932
Hawks, Hughes, and Hecht collaborate on Scarface, major Gangster film.
576
1933
Astaire and Rogers in Flying Down to Rio establish a style of urbane sophistication that marks much entertainment of the 1930s. Cooper and Schoedsack's King Kong evokes racial fears to establish a popular myth. Busby Berkeley's choreography for 42nd Street establishes a style for the Musical of the t930s. Arnheim's Film as Art published. German film industry under Nazi control. British Film Institute founded. Armstrong develops FM radio. First "Fireside Chats" by President Roosevelt utilize radio medium.
1934
Breen strengthens censorship under Production Code. Capra's It Happened One Night, major early Screwball Comedy, along with Hawks's Twentieth Century. Riefenstahl's Triumph of the Will celebrates Nazi mystique. British government involved in financing documentaries. Flaherty completes Man of Aran. The Communications Act of 1934 recognizes the interdependency of telephone, telegraph, and radio (and television) broadcasting but treats the older media differently from the new radio industry. Telephone and telegraph are seen as natural monopolies and designated as "common carriers" that must furnish service as requested at rates governed by an organization to be called the Federal Communications Commission. Broadcasting, however, is considered a competitive activity. The principle of public ownership of the airwaves is recognized: the FCC will issue limited licenses to broadcasters and govern the nature of their activities.
1935
Technicolor three-strip process comes into use. De Rochemont's March of Time series of documentaries begins. "Audimeter"device for radio broadcast ratingsinvented.
1936
BBC begins television service (to be interrupted by the war). Cinematheque Francaise founded by Henri Langlois, Georges Franju, and Jean Mitry. Chaplin's Modern Times. Capra's Mr. Deeds Goes to Town marks cycle of American populist films.
577
1937
Renoir's Grand Illusion.
1938
Eisenstein's Alexander Nevsky.
Michael Balcon takes over production at Ealing Studios. October 31. Welles's War of the Worlds radio broadcast.
1939
National Film Board of Canada founded. Hollywood's greatest year: Selznick's Gone With the Wind and MGM's The Wizard of Oz (both directed by Victor Fleming) become classics of entertainment fantasy. John Ford's Stagecoach, classic Western.
Renoir's The Rules of the Game.
April 30. President Roosevelt appears in a telecast at the World's Fair in New York marking the inauguration of regular television service in the U.S. June 19. Pocket Books, a new company partly owned by Simon & Schuster, puts ten pocket-size paper-covered books priced at 25 cents each on sale at Macy's and a few Manhattan newsstands. The paperback revolution begins. August 26. First major-league baseball telecast: a doubleheader between the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Cincinnati Reds.
1940
January 12. First American television network broadcast on WNBT-TV, New York, and WRGB-TV, Schenectady. August. CBS demonstrates their color television system, developed by Peter Goldmark. Hitchcock moves to Hollywood. Murrow's broadcasts from London during the Blitz dramatize news value of radio.
1941
Renoir moves to Hollywood. Ford's The Grapes of Wrath, from Steinbeck novel. Huston's The Maltese Falcon establishes his reputation, Bogart's, and the Detective genre. Welles's Citizen Kane, "the great American movie."
1942
Noel Coward's In Which We Serve marks paradoxical revitalization of British film during the war. Capra's Why We Fight series of effective documentary propaganda.
1943
Maya Deren's Meshes of the Afternoon marks renewed development of the American avant garde. First wire sound recorders in use in the military. Due to antitrust suit, ABC created out of NBC's second network.
578
1944
Technicolor Monopack system first used for features.
1945
Rossellini's Rome, Open City and De Sica's Shoeshine mark Neorealism. DC Rochemont applies semidocumentary style to fiction in The House on 92nd Street. Murrow reports from Buchenwafd. German tape recorders captured. The ENIAC (Electronic Numerical Integrator Analyzor and Computer) is completed in November at the University of Pennsylvania.
1947
October 1. The Philco Radio Hour with Bing Crosby is the first taped, delayed radio broadcast. October 20. House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) begins hearings on "Communist influence in Hollywood"; nineteen Hollywood personalities are subpoenaed by HUAC to testify about their knowledge of or possible involvement in Communist Party activities. November 24. At notorious meeting at New York's Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, Eastern bankers inform studio executives that investment funds will be curtailed if the studios do not cooperate with HUAC. The studios quickly capitulate, informing employees that a refusal to cooperate means that they will have their employment terminated.
1 9 4 6 - 1 9 6 0 : T h e Growth of Television Actor's Studio founded by Robert Lewis, Cheryl Crawford, and Elia Kazan and run by Lee Strasberg from 1948. The studio was home of the "method," an acting technique based on the concepts of Constantin Stanislavski. La Revue du Cinema founded by critic and theorist Andre Bazin, along with Jacques Doniol-Valcroze. Four years later it is renamed Cahiers du Cinema. Capra's It's a Wonderful Life, last in populist tradition. The transistor is invented at Bell Labs.
579
1948
Astruc's essay on "Camera-Stylo" published. Howard Hughes buys RKO. Black radio stations begin broadcasting. Milton Berle's Texaco Star Theatre begins television comedy format. Ed Sullivan's Toast of the Town begins television variety format. June 2 1 . Goldmark's LP record unveiled.
1949
Donen and Kelly's On the Town: new-style Musical. Stop the Music, first TV quiz show, debuts. For the first time, more paperback books are sold than hardcovers.
1950
Blacklist in radio and television in full swing. Eastmancolor stock introduced. Cocteau's Orpheus. Ophiils's La Ronde.
Wilder's Sunset Boulevard.
1951
Murrow and Friendly begin See It Now series. Paramount signs consent decree on antitrust suit. Lucille Ball's I Love Lucy sets the model for television situation comedy; its success indicates film can work in television. Jack Webb's Dragnet premieres, setting the model for television cop shows. NBC's Today program begins, mixing news and features. Nyby's The Thing among first paranoid Science-Fiction films of the decade. Kurosawa's Rashomon successful at Venice Film Festival.
Cahiers du Cinema begins.
1952
Community Antenna television, precursor of cable, begins. Kelly and Donen's Singin' in the Rain. Zinnemann's High Noon, "adult" Western. Decca purchases Universal. Sony develops stereo broadcasting in Japan. Cinerama debuts. Nixon's televised "Checkers" speech.
1953
January 19. Desi Arnaz Jr is born the same day that the episode of I Love Lucy in which his fictionai alter ego is born is telecast. RKO liquidated by owner, General Tire Corp. Cinemascope and 3-D introduced.
Hitchcock's Rear Window.
Chayefsky's Marty on Goodyear Television Playhouse signals the heyday of live television drama.
1954
January 1. NBC broadcasts Festival of Roses parade in color: first network colorcast. January 1. NTSC standard color broadcasting begins in the U.S. January. Truffaut's essay "Une certaine tendance du cinema francais" published in
Cahiers du Cinema.
Fellini's La Strada, international success. Kazan's On the Waterfront reinforces Marlon Brando's position as the emblematic star of the 1950s. Murrow's See It Now broadcast about Senator McCarthy has significant political effect. Televised Army-McCarthy hearings result in McCarthy's disgrace and beginning of the end for the blacklist. Disney and Warner Bros, contract to produce for ABC.
1955
Satyajit Ray's Pather Panchali introduces Indian film to West. Commercial (ITV) channel begins broadcasting in U.K. Nicholas Ray's Rebel Without a Cause sets the tone for the late fifties. James Dean dies. The Village Voice founded. It will be a major force in the counterculture through the 1960s. U.S. Census Bureau reports that 67 percent of all U.S. homes have television. TV revenue surpasses radio revenue by the end of the year.
1956
Release of hundreds of pre-1948 feature films to television signals the new relationship between film and broadcasting industries. Ford's The Searchers, his most complex Western. Bergman's The Seventh Seal, internationally successful. IBM introduces the magnetic disk as a storage medium for computer data. IBM enters into a consent decree with the Justice Department forcing the dominant computer company to segregate its computer services business from its other operations. November 30. First use of videotape in television: the West Coast feed of Douglas
Edwards with the News, CBS.
1957
RKO studios sold to Desilu for television production. Pocket transistor radios introduced.
1 9 6 1 - 1 9 8 0 : T h e Media World
1958
Stereophonic records and phonographs first marketed. Hitchcock's Vertigo.
1959
Hitchcock's North by Northwest. Birth of the New Wave: Truffaut's The 400 Blows, Resnais's Hiroshima, man amour. Fellini's La Dolce Vita, together with other films released this year, marks a turning point in world cinema. Cassavetes's Shadows suggests the possibility of a more personal American cinema. Decca/Universal merges with MCA talent agency. First regular series color broadcasts: Bonanza, NBC. The Integrated Circuit is introduced by Texas Instruments and Fairchild Semiconductor. It will soon empower the "transistor sisters" of the decade.
1960
Godard debuts with Breathless. Reisz's Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, first major British working-class film. Hitchcock's Psycho. Videotape now in general use in broadcasting. First demonstration of laser device, by Hughes Aircraft Co. March 1. Haloid Corporation ships the first Xerox photocopier. Leacock-Pennebaker's Primary first major Direct Cinema production, indicates new directions for documentary. Kracauer's Theory of Film: The Redemption of Physical Reality published. Antonioni's L'Awentura. Rouch's Chronique d'un ete, first film of cinema verite. In-flight movies introduced on airlines. Screen Actors Guild strikes Hollywood to gain share of residual rights for films sold to television.
1962
Truffaut's Jules and Jim. Dr. No (Terrence Young) begins James Bond series. Subscription television experiments begin in California. Johnny Carson takes over NBC's late-night talkshow; this type of programming grows in importance throughout the next thirty years.
582
1963
Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove. Swedish Film Institute founded. Holography demonstrated, developed by Ein Leith and Juris Upatnieks, based on work by Dennis Gabor in 1947. American Airlines' SABRE is the first computerized reservation system, and the model for future online systems. Cleopatra is a notorious financial disaster. Philips introduces the audiocassette format.
1964
Godard's A Married Woman develops cinema as essay. McLuhan's Understanding Media published. Antonioni's Red Desert. Lester's A Hard Day's Night with The Beatles helps establish the new rock music. April. IBM introduces the 360, founding a new generation of mainframe computers.
1965
Super-8 mm film format introduced for amateur market. April 6. "Early Bird" satellite, Intelsat I, is launched. It is the first commercial communications satellite and also the first geosynchronous communications satellite. CBS joins NBC as an all-color network. ABC follows a few months later marking completion of conversion from black and white. Lockheed's Dialog opens for business, first online database. Digital Equipment Corporation's PDP-8 is regarded as the first minicomputer.
1966
Godard's 2 or 3 Things I Know About Her.
Rossellini continues work in television with The Rise to Power of Louis XIV. Bergman's Persona and Antonioni's Blow-Up draw new intellectual interest to film. Loach's television film Cathy Come Home results in changes in British housing laws. Gulf + Western buys Paramount. FCC ruling requires separate programming on FM stations. FM develops rapidly in the next few years, drawing on the new rock music.
1967
The World-Journal-Tribune, a New York newspaper that was the result of a merger of no less than seven papers, dies after little more than year. Seven Arts buys Warner Bros. Corporation for Public Broadcasting formed to develop Public Television network. Transamerica Corooration buys United Artists.
1 9 6 1 - 1 9 8 0 : T h e Media World New Line Cinema founded in Greenwich Village by Robert Shaye. Multitrack recording techniques are perfected. Frederick Wiseman begins his career as documentarist for National Educational Television. Public Broadcasting Laboratory develops magazine/essay format. Smothers Brothers introduce a new sophistication and relevance to U.S. television comedy. BBC's The Forsyte Saga becomes a worldwide success over the next few years and establishes the televised novel as a powerful new form. Flashing techniques are introduced that significantly expand latitude of filmstock. Penn's Bonnie & Clyde sets a pattern of antiheroes that continues through the seventies. Lester's Petulia investigates the newly developing consciousness of the sixties. Sjoman's I Am CuriousYellow breaks new ground in the depiction of sexual activities and excites censorship furor. American Film Institute founded. Nam June Paik exhibits video works at the Howard Wise Gallery, New York.
583
1968
Film an important arena for discussion during the political events of May and June in France. Television coverage of "police riots" at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago in August equally influential. "The whole world is watching," the demonstrators chant. Czech film renaissance cut short by Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia. Laugh-In experiments with new form of television comedy. Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey pioneers many new special effects techniques, including front projection. Kodak introduces 5254 color stock. Fellini produces A Director's Notebook for television. Rohmer reaches international audiences with intellectual My Night at Maud's. Christian Metz's Essais sur la signification au cinema published. FCC's "Carterfone" decision allows telephone customers to hook up own equipment to Bell lines.
1969
Growth of photocopying and offset as "instant" printing systems available to individuals and small groups continues. Development of phototypesetting accelerates. General-interest magazines continue to decline as special-interest magazines experience rapid growth. Sesame Street premieres, utilizing TV commercial techniques to teach basic skills. Warner Brothers-Seven Arts purchased by Kinney National Services, Inc. Kirk Kerkorian purchases MGM for the first time. Swiss film experiences a renaissance beginning with the production of Tanner's La
Salamandre.
Peter Wollen's Signs and Meaning in the Cinema published. Hill's Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid marks the continued decline in women's roles in the sixties and presages a raft of male bonding friendships in films of the seventies.
584
1970
The economic recession reinforces the trend toward fewer American films produced each year. American interestswhich had recently provided as much as 90 percent of the capital for the British film industrypull out precipitously due to the recession. British filmmakers emigrate to the U.S. or turn to television. Kluge, Fassbinder, Schlondorff establish Neue Kino on world screens. Television coproduction is an important element. The Mary Tyler Moore Show marks renaissance of situation comedy. Ted Turner buys a local UHF station in Atlanta. It will become superstation TBS. Robert Altman consolidates his reputation with MA.S.H.later a popular television series. Wadleigh's Woodstock sets a new style for concert musicals. The growth of film study begins to accelerate in the U.S. May. MGM auctions its heritage of props and costumes to raise cash for Kerkorian. Sony sells Portapak half-inch portable videotape system. Video movement begins. FCC institutes the "Fin-Syn" rule prohibiting television networks from financial control of syndication operations.
1971
Van Peebles's Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song signals the establishment of the Black film. Marcel Ophuls's The Sorrow and the Pity (originally a television program) excites new interest in the documentary interview form as personal essay. Cable television systems, supplying nonbroadcast product, continue rapid expansion. All in the Family, based on a British series, is Norman Lear's first television success. FCC institutes Prime Time Access ruie, ostensibly limiting networks to three hours of programming per evening in prime time. November. Intel introduces the 4004, first microprocessor chip. Computer memory chips can hold 1 kilobit (1,024 bits) of information each. IBM introduces the "floppy" magnetic disc for data storage. FCC authorizes "specialized common carriers" to compete with AT&T in providing long-distance private lines to customers. Word-processing computers begin to have an effect on office procedures.
1972
Quadraphonic disc system introduced. The public response is minimal. Life magazine ceases regular publication.
1 9 6 1 - 1 9 8 0 : T h e Media World Bertolucci's Last Tango in Paris is considered a mature treatment of sex, a landmark in changing moral attitudes. Godard and Gorin finish Dziga-Vertov experiments with Tout va bien. Godard turns to video. Intel's 8008 is first 8-bit microprocessor. Canada's Anik I is launched, first domestic communications satellite. FCC approves common carrier satellite services. Coppola's The Godfather becomes the most profitable film of all time, to date. Xerox demonstrates the Alto graphical user interface. Nolan Bushnell's Pong arcade game is a success and Magnavox's Odyssey videogame machine invades the home.
585
1973
Growth of Citizens Band (CB) radio greatly accelerated by first oil crisis. Warners' The Exorcist marks renewed interest in shock effect of film. Michael Crichton's Westworid utilizes computer-generated graphics and presages the problems of virtual reality twenty years hence. Lexis, a law library online, opens for business.
1974
MGM opts out of film business for the first time, sells studio, sets, and costumes. Home Box Office, a pay-television channel, is marketed through cable systems. A Roper poll shows that, for the first time, television is the prime source of news for most people, having surpassed newspapers. Watergate hearings televised. Eastman introduces 5247 color stock. Women begin moving into film and video en masse. Computer memory chips now hold 4 kilobits. Bergman directs six-part Scenes from a Marriage for tefevision. Westar, the first U.S. domestic communications satellite, is launched.
1975
January. The Altair 8800 is the first personal computer offered for sale to public. Dolby film sound system introduced. French television reorganized into three networks, two of which accept advertising. Networks agree on self-censorship "Family Time" provision. HBO begins satellite distribution of its programming for cable system operators to offer at a premium price, establishing the first national cable network. Altman's Nashville released.
Bergman's Face to Face.
Jaws sets box office records. Davis's Hearts and Minds, documentary on Vietnam. FCC requires television set manufacturers to build sets with click-stop UHF tuning comparable to VHF tuning. Steadicam is used for the first time, by Haskell Wexler on Bound for Glory. Italian television deregulated. Sony introduces its Betamax 1/2-inch videocassette. Microsoft Corporation founded by Bill Gates and Paul Allen.
1976
Bergman leaves Sweden. South Africa is the last nation of any size to begin television service. By end of 1976, U.S. networks sell all prime advertising time for 1977. ABC places first in ratings for first time. Home videotape Betamax cassette system marketed by Sony. October. British Prestel videotext system begins operations. Bertolucci's 1900. More audiocassettes are sold this year than 8-track cartridges. During the past eighteen months RCA and AT&T have launched their Satcom and Comstar satellites, respectively, marking the maturity of satellite communications systems.
1977
January 23-30. Alex Haley's Roots is broadcast on ABC, setting ratings records. Six of the eight episodes will rank among the top ten television shows of all time. April 27. Edwin Land of Polaroid Corp. demonstrates Polavision, instant movie system, for immediate sale. It is not successful in the marketplace. For the first time, NBC News uses more tape than film. Computer memory chips now hold 16 kilobits of information: 16 times more powerful than five years previously. Autumn. The David Begelman affair focuses public attention on shady Hollywood business practices. Critical and commercial success of Woody Allen's Annie Hall marks slight shift of film industry away from Hollywood, toward New York. George Lucas's Star Wars is released, quickly becomes highest grossing film of all time. ABC displaces CBS as leading American network in terms of ratings and advertising revenues. CBS had held the number one position almost without exception since the early fifties. A significant number of NBC and CBS affiliates defect to ABC. Rise of disco music culminates in popularity of the film Saturday Night Fever. Warner- AMEX's QUBE, the first interactive cable television system, is introduced in Columbus, Ohio. It doesn't last; the technology is not yet powerful enough. The Apple II microcomputer is offered for sale.
1978
Saturday Night Fever, while highly successful in theaters, nevertheless earns more from soundtrack album sales than from the box office. January. Orion Pictures Corporation Studio is formed by five former top executives of United Artists. By in effect renting Warners' distribution system, Orion avoids start-up costs of more than $250 million. April. Variety publishes its first "Vidcassette" review, of Lectric Lady Disco, which claims to be the first show produced specifically for the home videotape market. Fred Silverman, formerly head of programming at both CBS and ABC when those networks ranked first in the ratings game, moves to NBC as president. Releases of Grease and Superman reinforce blockbuster psychology. October 4. In a live network broadcast of a television match on CBS, Jimmy Connors uses the expletive "bullshit." No complaints are received.
1 9 6 1 - 1 9 8 0 : T h e Media World October 5. In an episode of Taxi the word "bastard" is used. The Times of London is struck. (The paper will not appear again until a year later.) December. Philips-MCA begin test-marketing their videodisc player in Atlanta and Seattle. The Aspen Project, under the supervision of Nichoias Negroponte, experiments with random access computer control of recorded images and sounds, and hence establishes the basis for multimedia. A prototype for the Department of Defense, this set of videodiscs allows the user to tour Aspen, CO, virtually driving down every street, choosing which way to turn at every corner. Gene Siskel and Roger Bbert, popular newspaper film critics in Chicago, appear on first PBS film review show, establishing the critical trend for the eighties. Congress at Brighton, England, of the Federation Internationale des Archives du Film (FIAF) establishes the Brighton Project, beginning the trend to a new historicism in film studies.
587
1979
Canada and Australia emerge as film powers. February 17. On Saturday Night Live (NBC) Gilda Radner performs a parody of singer Patti Smith. The song she sings is dedicated to Mick Jagger and includes the refrain: "Are you woman, are you man/I'm your biggest fucked-up fan." The lyrics are garbled but the refrain is clear. According to The New York Times two days later, NBC received 160 calls during and right after the show. "75 found Miss Radner's language 'disgusting;' but 85, the network said, thought she was 'a fabulous and very talented lady.'" The China Syndrome foreshadows events at Three Mile Island several weeks before they actually occur.
Success of "small" films like Meatballs, Starting Over, Breaking Away, and Kramer vs
Kramer marks shift away from blockbusters, despite Star Trek: The Motion Picture, reputed to have cost $40 million, and Apocalypse Now, $30 million. Miramax Films, independent distributor, founded by Harvey and Bob Weinstein. John Sayles's The Return of the Secaucus Seven ignites a resurgence of the American independent cinema. A Melbourne, Australia, television station offers the first 3-D service. For the first time in more than twenty years, revenues in the recording industry are down. Several conglomerates move to sell their record companies. August 15. Francis Coppola's Apocalypse Now is finally released, accompanied by an elaborate publicity campaign. October. The Ladd Company is formed by former top executives of Twentieth Century Fox, continuing the decentralization of Hollywood executive power that began eighteen months earlier with the formation of Orion Pictures Corp. The Intel Corporation introduces a magnetic bubble memory chip capable of storing 1 million bits of information. Price: approximately $2,000. This technology does not succeed. C-SPAN and ESPN cable networks founded. Visicalc, the first spreadsheet program, gives businesspeople a good reason to buy the Apple II microcomputer.
1980
Continued development of word processing equipment suggests new more efficient methods of typesetting for books, newspapers, and magazines.
1 9 8 1 - P r e s e n t : T h e Digital World December. Trials of French Minitel system take place in the town of Velizy. Cable penetration in the U.S. is less than 30 percent; VCR penetration approaches 8 percent.
1982
Spielberg's E.T. sets box-office records. The featuring of "Reese's Pieces" signats the beginning of the product placement business. Coca-Cola buys Columbia Pictures in a contradiction of the old rule of exhibition that the profit is really at the concessions counter. TriStar studio established as a joint venture of Columbia, CBS, and HBO, in an attempt to provide an alternative channel of distribution. The success of Gandhi marks the arrival on the scene of Goldcrest Films. R. W. Fassbinder dies at 37, marking the end of Das Neue Kino. Sales of audiocassettes exceed sales of records for the first time. The audio CD format is introduced in Japan. Disney's Tron makes extensive use of computer-generated graphics. FCC establishes requirements for low-power television (LPTV). Blade Runner becomes a cult favorite and a model for the Film-Noir Science-Fiction films of the future. Graduating class of the Beijing Film Institute coalesces into the so-called Fifth Generation of Chinese filmmakers. They had entered in 1978, when nationwide college entrance exams had been reinstituted after the Cultural Revolution. November. Channel 4 opens in the U.K. with mandate to serve minorities.
1983
Lawrence Kasdan's The Big Chill adds a Motown soundtrack to the themes of The Return of the Secaucus Seven, marks the cinematic coming of age of the baby boom generation, and serves as the emblematic American film of the decade. By combining characters with historical footage, Woody Allen's Zelig suggests the technical possibilities that lie ten years ahead. Koyanisqaatsi, no dialogue or narration, score by Philip Glass. Dragon's Lair is the first arcade video game to use laserdisc technology to provide more realism. Revenue from arcade games now exceeds theatrical film rentals as the locus of power in the American entertainment industry begins to shift from Hollywood to Silicon Valley. ABC broadcasts The Day After in the middle of the 1980s revival of the antinuclear movement, drawing huge ratings and sparking controversy with its graphic depiction of the aftermath of a nuclear war between the U.S. and the Soviet Union. Reminiscent of films like Tail-Safe and Dr. Strangelove twenty years earlier, The Day After serves as an eerie reinforcement of the remake philosophy that characterizes the 1980s. The Radio Shack 100 introduced, first popular "notebook" computer, especially favored by journalists.
1984
January 24. Apple Computer Inc.'s landmark 1984 commercial is shown during the Super Bowl, introducing the Macintosh. Computer RAM chips now hold 256 kilobits. AT&T broken up into eight companies: seven "Regional Bell Operating Companies" (RBOCs) and a long-distance vendor (still called AT&T).
590
1985
Sony and Philips introduce the CD-ROM format for data storage. March. ABC network sold to Capital Cities Broadcasting for $3.5 billion. NBC and CBS change hands shortly after. May. Fox acquires Metromedia broadcast group. Rupert Murdoch acquires Twentieth Century Fox from Marvin Davis and installs Barry Diller as head. French Minitel system commercially introduced. The colorization technique is introduced by Color System Technologies. November. Lawrence Tisch owns 24.9 percent of CBS. December. GE announces it will buy RCA and its NBC subsidiary. (The deal is completed in 1986.)
1986
Changes in the tax code eliminating shelters affect independent filmmakers. Television sets equipped with stereophonic audio and remote controls are now common. Nintendo dominates the home video game market, which has largely superseded the arcade game business. Fox's A Current Affair launched, establishing model for tabloid television. March. Ted Turner buys MGM/UA from Kirk Kerkorian, sells the lot to Lorimar Telepictures and other assets back to Kirk Kerkorian, keeps the film library, and renames it Turner Entertainment Company. March 1. The Grateful Dead conference is founded on the Well, a pioneering online community. Spike Lee's She's Gotta Have It is a success at the Cannes Film Festival, marking a renaissance in Black film.
1 9 8 1 - P r e s e n t : T h e Digital World
My Beautiful Laundrette, A Room with a View, and Mona Lisa mark the beginning of a
591
British mini-new wave, while British producer David Puttnam's stormy tenure as head of Columbia Pictures marks new relationship between Hollywood and London's Wardour Street. Platoon revives the genre of Vietnam films begun in the 1970s that continues into the 1990s. September. Fox television network begins broadcasting.
1987
Goldcrest Films self-destructs. David Puttnam leaves Columbia. Fatal Attraction causes a sensation and sets the model for a new series of paranoid fantasies; the film is released with different endings in different markets, according to the way it tests. March 1. DVI technology demonstrated at the second Microsoft CD-ROM conference. Although never successful in the market, it is the precursor of digital video. Theater magnate Sumner Redstone purchases Viacom for a reported $3.4 billion. Henry Hampton's Eyes on the Prize, broadcast on PBS, confirms the value of television as an historical medium. Lethal Weapon (Mel Gibson, Danny Glover) and Predator (Arnold Schwarzenegger) make it clear that Action movies are now the dominant genre in American film. Computer RAM chips now hold 1 megabit (1,024 kilobits).
1988
Rupert Murdoch's Sky TV begins small-dish satellite-to-home broadcasting in the U.K., obviating the need to build a massive cable infrastructure. Murdoch purchases TV Guide from Annenberg Communications for $3 billion. January. Sony purchases CBS Records for a reported $2 billion. February 18. Before this date people ask, "Do you have a fax?" After this date they demand, "What's your fax number?" September. IBM-Sears joint venture Prodigy, an online service aimed at the general public, opens after reported $500 million investment. October. Turner founds TNT cable network, devoted to classic movies from his MGM library.
1989
John Cassavetes, Richard Roud, and Leslie Halliwell all die at the age of 59 marking the end of the modern period in film history. Thatcher broadcasting deregulation bill passes the House of Commons. Steve Ross merges Warner with Time Inc. The new company is the largest media group in the world. June. The Chinese Tienanmen Square revolt is broadcast to a world audience. November. Voyager's release of CD Companion to Beethoven's 9th, by Robert Winter, is a landmark in the development of multimedia. November. Sony purchases Columbia Pictures Entertainment (Columbia Pictures, TriStar Pictures, and Loews Theaters) from Coca-Cola for a reported $3.4 billion, then pays $200 million for the Guber-Peters Entertainment company so that the two principles can run the studio. November. The fall of the Berlin wall is televised worldwide.
592
1990
Murdoch's Sky TV merges with British Satellite Broadcasting to become B-Sky-B, the largest satellite network in the world. William S. Paley dies at the age of 90. United Artists' last film is Rocky V. Boyz N the Hood and Straight Out of Brooklyn reinforce the developing revival of Black independent film in the U.S. Dances with Wolves marks the revival of interest in the Western. Ken Burns's The Civil War, broadcast on PBS, sells well as a set of videotapes, further legitimizing television as an historical medium. Sega's Genesis, a 16-bit system, takes market share from Nintendo in the video game business. March. Kirk Kerkorian sells the remainder of MGM to Pathe, controlled by Giancarlo Paretti and funded by Credit Lyonnais. Paretti is soon out of business and under indictment and the bank is left holding the bag. November. Matsushita acquires MCA/Universal for a reported $6.1 billion. The majority of Hollywood studios are now owned by foreign companies.
1991
January 16. The Gulf War begins, broadcast live to a worldwide audience as it happens. It lasts almost as long as an Olympics. BBC begins its television World Service, first in Europe, then in Asia in conjunction with Star satellite system. Cable penetration in the U.S. is more than 60 percent; VCR penetration exceeds 70 percent. May. Jim Henson dies suddenly at 53 of a bacterial infection. The deal he had arranged to sell Henson Associates to Disney falls through. His children take control of the company. June. Apple introduces Quicktime digital audio/video technology. Ted Turner marries Jane Fonda, joining Hollywood royalty. MGM reacquires UA. November 25. HDTV broadcasting begins in Japan after trials of more than ten years. Auction of British independent television franchises changes the face of U.K. television. James Cameron's Terminator 2 marks the maturity of digital special effects and morphing. Orion files for protection under bankruptcy laws. Toshiba and C. Itoh invest $1 billion in Time Warner. Computer RAM chips now hold 4 megabits.
1 9 8 1 - P r e s e n t : T h e Digital World
593
1992
February. Barry Diller resigns from Fox. By the end of the year, after a tour of the computer industry, he will find himself in the home shopping business. May. Johnny Carson retires from the Tonight Show after nearly 30-year run. Kodak introduces Photo CD product, whichunlike Sony's Mavicaallows consumers (and Kodak) to keep their huge investment in chemical film technology while still enjoying the benefits of digital recording. The Player marks Robert Altman's return to form as it effectively satirizes the film industry of the eighties and nineties that kept him off the screen. Cable magnate John Malone announces his company, TCI, is developing a 500channel cable technology that would allow movies on demand. (Is it a ploy?) Sony introduces Minidisc player using small CDs and advanced technology. Beauty and the Beast is the first animated film to be nominated for an Academy Award for best picture. Major film biographies of American political figures JFK and Malcolm X are controversial. Howards End, from the novel by E. M. Forster, will garner nine Academy Award nominations and an Oscar for Emma Thompson, marking the resurgence of the literary film.
1993
Cinecitta closes. Federico Fellini dies. Elstree closes. Fin-Syn rule restricting network financiai interest in syndication operations rescinded by the FCC. Voyager's multimedia CD release of A Hard Day's Night is the first digital CD to include an entire film. Spielberg's Jurassic Park sets box-office record while his Schindler's List wins Oscars. August. Apple introduces the Newton, one of the first Personal Digital Assistants. September. Macintosh and Windows versions of NCSA Mosaic browsers are released; the World Wide Web begins its rapid rise. Mercuiy introduces One-2-One, first PCS service, in London. Murdoch acquires control of Star TV, satellite system which reaches most countries between Israel and Taiwan (including China and India) and thus has a potential audience of 3 billion. Ted Turner acquires New Line Cinema, a "mini-major" distributor, reinforcing his position in the film industry. FCC attempts to reregulate the cable industry by instituting a set of rules limiting certain charges, but cable operators find loopholes, raising more prices than they lower. Computer RAM chips now hold 16 megabits
1994
Both CD-ROM multimedia and online interactive technologies come of age in the U.S. as viable consumer products after many years of development. After a lengthy battle with Barry Diller's QVC, Sumner Redstone, proprietor of Viacom, acquires Paramount, the last remaining "independent" studio besides Disney.
594
1995
January. Sony/Philips and Toshiba/Time Warner introduce competing technologies for Digital Video Discs, storing 3.7 and 4.8 gigabytes, respectively. February 2. Before this date, people ask, "Do you have electronic mail?" After this date, they inquire, "What's your email?" May. Apple releases QuickTime VR technology for simple, inexpensive virtualreality productions. June. Edgar Bronfman Jr concludes Seagram's purchase of the 80 percent of MCA/Universal owned by Matsushita. After negotiations with Michael Ovitz fall through, Bronfman hires CAA's number two, Ron Meyer, to head his studio. July. Michael Eisner announces that Disney will purchase Capital Cities/ABC for $19 billion, more than three times sales. The deal comes as a surprise, since a merger of Disney with CBS had long been rumored and ABCunlike CBS and
596
1996
Telecommunications Act of 1996. Meant to liberalize the restrictions placed on telecommunications companies over the years (beginning with the Communications Act of 1934), the new code lifts limits on radio and television station ownership, permits cable and phone companies to compete in each other's industries, and frees the "baby Bells" from the constraints imposed by the breakup of the Bell system in 1984. Almost immediately, four of the Regional Bell Operating Companies announce mergers (SBC Communications with Pacific Telesis; NYNEX with Bell Atlantic). At the same time what remains of AT&T splits itself into three new companies and, in the U.K., the merger of British Telecom and Mercury falts apart. Misunderstanding the dynamics of large telecom corporations, the U.S. Congress has given them a license to raid and consolidate when it intended, rather, to increase competition. March 9. George Burns dies at 100, and with him the traditional vaudeville style of the early years of the twentieth century which gave birth to the dominant form of American mass entertainment. March 25. Like a scene out of Fellini, a badly crippled Superman is displayed to an international television audience on the annual Oscars telecast. Christopher Reeve had been seriously injured when thrown by a horse the summer before. A few weeks later, Lois Lane (Margot Kidder) is found wandering dazed and injured in Los Angeles. The symbolism is meaningless, as the series had played itself out years earlier. May 31. Timothy Leary, the erstwhile guru of the sixties, dies peacefully at home in bed surrounded by family. His publicized plan to stage his death on the World Wide Web is unfulfilled. July 15. MSNBC, first combined cable network/website, begins broadcasting (and netcasting). The deal gets Microsoft on TV and NBC on the Internet. July 16. After months of lackluster bidding, Credit Lyonnais sells MGM for $1.3 billion to a group lead by none other than Kirk Kerkorian (who hadn't even been in the running). Kerkorian's group includes Frank Mancuso, MGM's chairman, and Seven Network Group, Ltd., an Australian broadcasting company owned in part by News Corporation. It is the third time Kerkorian has bought the company. July 19. The Centennial Olympiad opens in Atlanta (and on NBC). The official website, managed by IBM, is an integral part of the event. IBM loses face by failing to deliver the scores as quickly and accurately as promised, but succeeds in demonstrating a new medium: the "Sneak Peak Cam" area of the site offers instant stills grabbed every few seconds from the video world feed from dozens of cameras at nearly every venue. Because NBC has orchestrated its television broadcast to succeed as entertainment (delaying transmission of daytime events to prime time), IBM's site is, as analyst Andrew Monaco points out, "just about the only way you can see the Olympics live." The Sneak Peak Cam ironically fulfills the promise of NBC's failed "Triplecast" at the Barcelona Olympic Games four years earlier and suggests a vital role for the Web as a telepresence medium. July 27. At the Atlanta Olympics, a Finnish javelin thrower gets a rare "do-over" as her javelin hits the skycam. The event marks the continuing struggle between sports and media. September 30. British Telecom and MCI agree to merge as Concert, first transatlantic telecommunications company in a deal valued at $23 billion. BT had ear-
1 9 8 1 - P r e s e n t : T h e Digital World lier failed in an attempt to buy its main domestic competitor Cable and Wireless PLC. October. The introduction of the WebTV receiver begins the merger of broadcast television with multicast Internet. Computer and television manufacturers settle their battle over the new digital television standard by agreeing to differ: computers will use progressive scanning while televisions will offer both progressive and interlaced scanning. October. Deutsche Telekom convinces Germans, traditionally wary of the stock market, to buy its stock in its first public offering. October 8. John Calley, highly respected studio executive at Warner in the 1970s, takes the reigns at troubled Sony Pictures Entertainment. He had recently returned to Hollywood from retirement to rescue United Artists. October 31. Marcel Carne dies at 90, still without the respect from French critics that he thought he deserved for Les Enfants du Paradis. November. DVD players come to market in Japan. December 20. Marcello Mastroianni dies at 72. His body lies in state on the Campodiglio in Rome. Thousands mourn this epitome of the Italian postwar spirit as the public funeral concludes with the final march tune from 81/2. December 20. Carl Sagan dies at 62. Over a 25-year period, the Astronomy professor from Cornell had used the popular mediaespecially televisionaggressively and adroitly to share his love of the science, setting a model for mass education. December 20. Apple buys NeXT Software Inc. for $400 million and Steve Jobs returns to the company he cofounded.
597
1997
January 12. Thousands celebrate the birthday of HAL, the computer star of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Later in the year, continuing troubles on the MIR space station suggest Arthur C. Clarke and Stanley Kubrick will prove to be as unsuccessful in their prognostications as George Orwell was. March. DVD-Video sales begin in the U.S. March. CBS cuts a deal with Web site SportsLine. Web company gets promotional announcements during CBS sports programming; CBS gets 50 percent of revenue from SportsLine content tied to CBS-covered events and 3 million shares of stock. Over the next three years CBS makes a dozen other deals like this one, trading leftover ad space and time for significant chunks of Internet companies. March 30. Channel 5 begins broadcasting in the U.K. April 29. Metromedia announces the sale of its 2,200-film library, along with the remains of Orion Pictures and Goldwyn Entertainment to the new MGM. After the deal is completed, MGMnear death two years earlierwill control the world's largest film library. July 1. Robert Mitchum dies at 80, leaving Jimmy Stewart as the last remaining Hollywood icon from the great days of the 1940s. July 2. Jimmy Stewart dies at 89. July. The landing of the Mars Pathfinder probe proves a significant even in Web history as a record 45 million visits to the Jet Propulsion Laboratory site are recorded. Surfers can watch the J.P.L. scientists at work live via a web cam, or download real-time images from Pathfinder's cameras on Mars.
598
1998
January 21. The Monica Lewinsky soap opera begins. It will dominate the mediasphere for the next thirteen months. April. Walt Disney, minority owner in new-media creator Starwave Corp., exercises option to acquire the rest of the company from founder Paul Allen. (Through its own joint ventures, Starwave creates content for and produces ABCnews.com, ESPN SportsZone, and other new-media sites.) May 14. Frank Sinatra dies at 85. Uniquely successful as the paramount singer of his era as well as a prolific and successful film actor, his persona remains the transcendent emblem of popular romantic sentiment for a century that will have to limp along for another nineteen months without him. June. AT&T announces it will purchase John Malone's Tele-Communications, Inc. for $31.8 billion, uniting the number one long-distance company with the number two cable provider, as C. Michael Armstrong continues to reconstruct the mother of all Bells. A few weeks earlier, Malone had purchased TV Guide from Rupert Murdoch ($2 billion in cash and stock) for an affiliate of TCI. June. NBC buys a 19 percent share of Snap, a news and entertainment Web site created by CNET. NBC also buys 5 percent of CNET. Value: about $64 million.
1 9 8 1 - P r e s e n t : T h e Digital World June 19. Disney joins the rush to the Web, buying a significant stake in Infoseek with the intent of creating a Disney-controlled portal. Disney trades Starwave to Infoseek for $475 million. August 15. Apple "Interim CEO" Steve Jobs continues his winning streak with the introduction of the i-Mac, a new version of the computer-as-appliance he defined fifteen years earlier. (Over the next few months the bluish machine will earn considerably more than A Bug's Life, the concurrent product from Jobs's other company, Pixar.) August 17. In the climactic episode of the Lewinsky saga, President Clinton testifies before the grand jury via a secure video feed. On September 21, the House Judiciary committee broadcasts the tape of the testimony to the nation. Within a week, the four-hour episode is available on DVD for a price of 2 cents (plus $2 shipping and handling). October 1. Digital television broadcasting begins in the U.K., via satellite. October 2. The campfire is out; the last roundup has ended: Gene Autry rides off into the final sunset, Roy Rogers having predeceased him by three months. Don't fence them in. October 19. The age of the Bills crests as the Microsoft antitrust trial begins. The other Bill will be vindicated at the polls, impeached by the House, tried by the Senate, and acquitted long before this Bill's tribulations end next year. Like the Clinton affair, the Gates trial will depend on videotaped testimony and weak memories. November 1. Digital television broadcasting begins in the U.S. but no one notices. Due to a slight oversight, cable systems are not ready to carry the signals. HDTV sets still cost $10,000. The first network broadcast, on ABC is Disney's 101 Dalmatians (the 1996 remake). November 7. Barnes & Noble, the nation's largest book chain, declares it will buy Ingram Book Group, the largest book wholesaler. (Antitrust concerns will halt the deal within six months.) November 19. Alan J. Pakula dies at 70 in a freak auto accident as a pipe smashes through his windshield on the Long Island Expressway. November 23. America Online announces it will buy Netscape for about $4 billion in stock. Don't cry for Netscape shareholders: by the time the deal is concluded months later the AOL stock will be worth $10 billion. December. Michael Ovitz returns to Hollywood, forming Artists Management Group and riling his former associates at CAA. Meanwhile, his Broadway production company, Livent, is in bankruptcybut he says that's Garth Drabinsky's fault. It has been the year of seeing double: two World War II epics (Saving Private Ryan,
The Thin Red Line); two Elizabethan pageants (Shakespeare in Love, Elizabeth); two
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meteoric disasters (Armageddon, Deep Impact); and two buggy digital cartoons
(Antz, A Bug's Life).
December 1. Freddie Young, last of the founding master cinematographers, dies at 96. December. It must be some sort of landmark in digital postmodernism: When A Bug's Life was released weeks earlier, it featured "outtakes" of the cartoon scenes. Now, a new set of "outtakes" has replaced the originals to attract return customers.
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1999
The euro is introduced as the transnational currency of the European Union. January 7. MGM completes the purchase of the Polygram library from Universal. In a remarkable comeback the once moribund studio now owns rights to more than half the extant Hollywood library. January 20. Cable Internet service provider @Home announces purchase of portal/search engine Excite for $6.7 billion. Deals this small no longer garner much attention. February 20. Gene Siskel dies at 53. Since the early 1980s he and his television cohost Roger Ebert have dominated American film criticism. Rise of ECNs"Electronic Communications Networks" that provide a virtual marketplace for financial transactions. March 7. After completing post-production work on Eyes Wide Shut, his first feature in twelve years, Stanley Kubrick dies peacefully in his sleep at 70 at his home in Hertfordshire, which he loved. March 21. Miramax's Shakespeare in Love wins the best picture Oscar beating industry favorite Dreamworks SKG's Saving Private Ryan, and punctuating a remarkable string of recent Oscars for the outsider ministudio. Some observers think the little film beat the big film because it worked better on videowhich is how most Academy members now see most movies. April 9. The British government blocks Rupert Murdoch's $1 billion purchase (through B-Sky-B) of Manchester United, the premiere British soccer club. Murdoch may console himself with his other sports prize, The Los Angeles Dodgers. May 7. The British government announces that they will sell 58 percent of the country's gold bullion reserves: the announcement is a milestone of the growing virtual economy.
May 19. Star Wars: Episode IThe Phantom Menace debuts. The return of George
Lucas to the series after sixteen years is marked by such anticipation in geek circles that some Silicon Valley companies declare a culture holiday. (No one was going to go to work this day anyway.) May 21. Deutsche Telekom loses its bid for Telecom Italia. The much smaller Olivetti wins the prize. Nationalism plays a part in the decision as the euro is not yet triumphant. May. The summer movie season will be devoted to gross-out humor as Austin PowersThe Spy Who Shagged Me leads the way. The fall television season will follow suit. June 18. Lucas and Fox test digital projections of The Phantom Menace in suburban theaters in New York and Los Angeles. A month earlier 79-year-old Eric Rohmer beat them to it with a digital showing of his short "Cambrure" at the Cannes Film Festival. June 28. The Secure Digital Music Initiative, a recording industry consortium charged with finding a way to protect the value of the industry's intellectual property against the pirate challenge of MP3 and other digital music formats, announces its specification. Musical hackers are unimpressed. June. Digital hard-disc-based "Personal Video Recorders" go on the market. Will the 25-year-old dream of time-shifting finally become a reality? And where is the "Secure Digital Film/Television Initiative"?
1 9 8 1 - P r e s e n t : T h e Digital World July 3. Mario Puzo dies at 78. His Godfather remains a key element of the late twentieth-century mythos. July 13. Disney announces it will merge its own Internet holdings with Infoseek and spin off the resulting company. They aren't the first to try this ploy. The idea is to provide a pure Internet play and use the windfall from the hugely inflated sales of stock in such a company to make acquisitions that may help eventually to realize the market valuation! July 15. Robert A. Daly and Terry Semel announce that they will step down as heads of Warner after nearly twenty years in power. July 17. Bill Gates is now worth $100 billion, as Microsoft stock passes $500 billion in market value. September 7. CBS and Viacom announce a $37 billion merger. It is the largest deal yet in the media world. The new company will be the second-largest media group (after Time Warner, but ahead of Disney/ABC). The deal was made possible when the FCC relaxed rules about television station ownership earlier in the summer. For those few who remember that CBS was sold to Westinghouse a mere four years previously for $5.4 billion, the price is shocking. Has the company really increased in value almost seven times in four years? In a word: yes, sort ofat least as measured by the virtual economics of the end of the century. Here's what happened: after Westinghouse acquired CBS in 1995, management set out to divest itself of the old Westinghouse real-industry businesses, which it largely accomplished within three years. In 1997 Westinghouse changed its name to CBS, which made sense, since it had just sold the old Westinghouse businesses and all that was left were the CBS businesses, plus a few mediaindustry acquisitions. The most valuable of these was Infinity Broadcasting, a chain of radio stations. With Infinity came CEO Mel Karmazin, a rising star who quickly seized power and talked Sumner Redstone into the deal. Basically, the difference between the $5.4-billion CBS and the $37-billion CBS is some radio stations, better "positioning," and Karmazin. If that seems strange to you, then you will probably enjoy Joseph Heller's Closing Time, the sequel to Catch-22. Although written in the 1980s it catches the fin-de-siecle dizziness perfectly. Musing about a world he doesn't understand, listing one absurdity after another, our old friend Yossarian concludes with the ultimate incongruity: Men made millions, producing nodring more substantial than changes in ownership. "And that's the way it is...."
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This bibliography is designed as an introductory guide to the basic materials available in the field as well as an introduction to further reading on subjects raised in How To Read a Film. It is of course by no means comprehensive! Special attention is is paid to classic texts, many of which are out of print. To make it easier to use, the bibliography has been divided into sections. Part One, "A Basic Library," is divided into seven sections, corresponding to the chapters of How To Read a Film: 1 . Film as an Art
2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.
The Technology of Film and Media The Language of Film Film History Film Theory and Practical Criticism Media N e w Media
Because the Film History section is so extensive, it has been further divided into subsections: A. The Economics and Politics of Film B. General Historical Studies C. Specific Major Periods D. Genres and Specific Topics E. F. National Cinemas Films and Filmmakers
Part Two, "Information," is a guide to research materials, journals, encyclopedias, indexes, and the like. It is organized in six sections: 8. Lists and Encyclopedias 9. Book Bibliographies
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2. THE TECHNOLOGY
OF FILM AND
MEDIA
Alton, John. Painting with Light. New York: Maomillan, 1949. A classic of its time. Armes, Roy. On Video. New York: Routledge, 1988. Brosnan, John. Movie Magic: The Story ofSpecial Effects in the Cinema. New York: New American Library, 1976. Campbell, Russell, ed. Photographic Theory for the Motion Picture Cameraman. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1970. Hollywood orthodoxy. Ceram, C. W. Archeology of the Cinema. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1965. The prehistory of film. Coe, Brian. The History ofMovie Photography. London: Ash & Grant, 1981. Dickson, W. K. L., and Antonia Dickson. History of the Kinetograph, Kinetoscope, and Kinetophonograph. Twickenham, Middlesex, 1895. Reprint. New York: Amo Press, 1970. By one of the fathers of film. Ellis, John. Visible Fictions: Cinema, Television, Video. New York: Routledge, 1992. Ellul, Jacques. The Technological Society. New York: Vintage, 1964. Fielding, Raymond, ed. A Technological History ofMotion Pictures and Television. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967. A valuable collection of documents. Kawin, Bruce F. How Movies Work. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992. Limbacher, James. Four Aspects of the Film. New York: Amo Press, 1978. Invaluable for its discussion of color, sound, 3-D, and widescreen processes. Malkiewicz, J. Kris. Cinematography. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1973. Maltin, Leonard, ed. Behind the Camera: The Cinematographer's Art. New York: Signet, 1971. Neale, Steven. Cinema and Technology: Image, Sound, Colour. London: British Film Institute, 1985. Newson, Iris, ed. Wonderful Inventions: Motion Pictures, Broadcasting, and Recorded Sound at the Library of Congress. Washington: Library of Congress, 1985. Rosenblum, Ralph, and Robert Karen. When the Shooting Stops ...the Cutting Begins: A Film Editor's Story. New York: Viking Press, 1979. Salt, Barry. Film Style and Technology: History and Analysis. Second edition. London: Starword, 1983, 1992. Schaefer, Dennis, ed. Masters ofLight: Conversations with Contemporary Cinematographers. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984. Smith, Thomas G. Industrial Light & Magic: The Art of Special Effects. New York: Ballantine, 1986. Weis, Elisabeth, and John Belton. Film Sound: Theory and Practice. New York: Columbia University Press, 1985.
607
3 . THE LANGUAGE
OF FILM
Armes, Roy. Film and Reality. New York: Penguin, 1974. A quick survey. Arnheim, Rudolf. Art and Visual Perception: A Psychology of the Creative Eye. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1954. A general text fn the visual arts that has much to say about film. Arnheim, Rudolf. Visual Thinking. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969. Berger, John. Ways of Seeing. London: BBC and Penguin Books, 1972. A book based on Berger's BBC series on advertising and art. Highly recommended. Bordwelf, David, and Kristin Thompson. Film Art: An Introduction. Third ed. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1990. Now classic introductory text. Bordwell, David, Kristin Thompson, and Janet Staiger. The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style and Mode of Production to 1960. New York: Columbia University Press, 1985. One of the more important texts of the 1980s, a highly regarded study of the art and economics of the classical Hollywood studio style. Braudy, Leo. The World in a Frame. New York: Anchor, 1976. Eidsvik, Charles. Cineliteracy: Film Among the Arts. New York: Random House, 1978. Introductory text.
Gessner, Robert. The Moving Image: A Guide to Cinematic Literacy. New York: Dutton, 1970. One
of the better introductions to the art. Giannetti, Louis. Understanding Movies. Fifth ed. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Half, 1990. Useful basic text. Recommended. Godard, Jean-Luc. "Montage, mon beau souci." In Godard on Godard, edited by Tom Milne, New York: Viking Press, 1972. Heath, Stephen, and Patricia Mellencamp, eds. Cinema and Language. Frederick, MD: University Publications of America, 1983. Jacobs, Lewis, ed. The Movies as Medium. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1970. A text composed of articles by various authors. Kirby, Lynne. Parallel Tracks: The Railroad and Silent Cinema. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1997. Kirby, a senior producer at Court Television, offers a unique insight into the cultural structures that transportation and communication share. Niisen, Vladimir. Cinema as Graphic Art. New York: Hill and Wang, 1973. A standard.
Perkins, V. F. Film as Film: Understanding and Judging Movies. New York: Penguin, 1972. Highly
recommended, it reflects cinematic theory of its time. Reisz, Karel. The Technique of Film Editing. Second enlarged ed. New York: Amphoto/Hastings House, 1968. A "how to" book for film editors, it was aesthetically influential. Recommended. Scientific American. Image, Object and Illusion. Introduction by Richard Held. San Francisco: W. H. Freeman, 1974. Sharpies Jr, Win, "The Aesthetics of Film Sound." Filmmakers Newsletter S:5 (March 1975). Sobchack, Thomas, and Vivian C. Sobchack. An Introduction to Film. Second ed. Boston: Little, Brown, 1987. Spottiswoode, Raymond R. A Grammar of Film. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1950. A classic. Spottiswoode, Raymond R. Film and Its Techniques. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1951. Reprint i965. Rather out of date, but a classic in its time. Good on technical matters.
608
P a r t One: A Basic Library Guback, Thomas H. The International Film Industry. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1969. Landmark study of international film economics. Haskell, Molly. From Reverence to Rape. New York: Penguin, 1974. Seminal study of women and film. Recommended. Haskell, Molly. Holding My Own in No Man's Land. New York: Oxford University Press, 1997. A breathless 24 years later, Haskell folfows up with more precise, reasoned, and thoughtful analysis of the landscape of sexual politics. Huaco, George A. The Sociology ofFilm Art. New York: Basic Books, 1965. A classic text on die subject.
Jarvie, Ian. Hollywood's Overseas Campaign: The North Atlantic Movie Trade. 1920-1950.
609
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Jones, G. William. Black Cinema Treasures: Lost and Found. Denton, TX: University of North Texas Press, 1981. Short history of Black dnema from the 1930s to die 1950s.
Kaplan, E. Ann. Women and Film: Both Sides of the Camera. New York: Routledge, 1983.
Kerr, Paul, ed. The Hollywood Film Industry: A Reader. London: Roudedge & Kegan Paul, 1986.
Kindem, Gorham. The American Movie Industry: The Business ofMotion Pictures. Carbondale:
Southern Illinois University Press, 1982. Manvell, Roger. Films and the Second World War. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1974. Mayer, Michael P. The Film Industries. Second ed. New York: Hastings House, 1973, 1979. By a lawyer, an influential study of the business of film.
McClintick, David. Indecent Exposure: A True Story of Hollywood & Wall Street. New York:
edition. New York: New York Zoetrope and New American Library, 1984. Includes appendices, bibliography, and charts. Navasky, Victor. Naming Names. New York: Penguin, 1981. The blacklist period.
Paul, William. Laughing Screaming: Modern Hollywood Horror and Comedy. New York: Columbia
newsmaker when it was published, and still a revealing window on Hollywood habits.
Prindle, David. Politics of Glamour: Ideology and Democracy in the Screen Actors Guild. Madison:
University of Wisconsin Press, 1988. Puttnam, David, with Neil Watson. Movies and Money. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1998. The
British title is more telling: The Undeclared War: The Struggle for Control of the World's Film
Winston, 1980. Russo, Vito. The Celluloid Closet: Homosexuality in the Movies. New York: Harper & Row, 1981.
Schatz, Thomas. The Genius of the System: Hollywood Film in the Studio Era. New York:
Pantheon, 1988.
Schickel, Richard. His Picture in the Papas: A Speculation on Celebrity in America, Based on the Life
ofDouglas Fairbanks, Sr. New York: Charterhouse, 1973. A seminal study of celebrityhood and an interesting essay on one of its inventors. Schickel, Richard. Intimate Strangers: The Culture of Celebrity. New York: Doubleday, 1990.
Schivelbusch, Wolfgang. The Railway Journey: The Industrialization of Time and Space in the 19th
Century. 1977. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986. Offers interesting comparisons with the history of media.
Schumach, Murray. The Face on the Cutting Room Floor: The Story ofMovie and Television
Censorship. New York: Morrow, 1964. Reprint. New York: Da Capo Press, 1974.
610
STUDIES
Allen, Robert C, and Douglas Gomery. Film History: Theory and Practice. New York: Knopf, 1990. Essential guide to film historiography. Armes, Roy. A Critical History ofBritish Cinema. New York: Oxford University Press, 1978. Bellour, Raymond. L'analyse du film. Paris: Albatross, 1979. Braudy, Leo, and Morris Dickstein. Great Film Directors: A Critical Anthology. New York: Oxford University Press, 1978. Clair, Rene. Cinema Yesterday and Today. New York: Dover, 1972. A personal view. Cook, David A. A History of Narrative Film. Second ed. New York: WW. Norton, 1990. Cowie, Peter, ed. A Concise History of the Cinema. 2 vols. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1970. Recommended. Short but useful. Dickinson, Thorold. A Discovery of Cinema. New York: Oxford University Press, 1971. Recommended. Ellis, Jack C. A History ofFilm. Third ed. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1990. Textbook. Everson, William K. American Silent Film. New York: Oxford University Press, 1978. A valuable history. Fell, John L. A History ofFilms. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1979. Textbook. Geduld, Harry M., ed. Authors on Film. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1972. A fanago of bits and pieces from Tolstoy to James Baldwin. Forty-one items. Geduld, Harry M., ed. Filmmakers on Filmmaking. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1967. Thirty pieces by filmmakers ranging from Lumiere to Anger. Gomery, Douglas. Movie History: A Survey. London: Wadsworth, 1991. Hampton, Benjamin. History of'the American Film Industry from Its Beginnings to 1931.1931. Reprint. New York: Dover, 1970. Jacobs, Lewis. Introduction to the Art of the Movies. New York: Noonday, 1960. Thirty-six essays written between 1910 and I960 and arranged chronologically. Jacobs, Lewis, ed. The Emergence OfFilm Art. New York: Hopkinson & Blake, 1970. Forty-two selections arranged chronologically from Melies to Mekas. Jowett, Garth. Film: The Democratic Art. Boston: Little, Brown, 1976. Mast, Gerald. A Short History of the Movies. Second ed. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1976. Montagu, Ivor. Film World. New York: Penguin, 1964. A standard work. Still useful.
611
Graphic Society, 1973. A classic of its time. Rhode, Eric. A History of Cinema. New York: Hill and Wang, 1975. Robinson, David. The History of World Cinema. New York: Stein and Day, 1974. Rotha, Paul, and Richard Griffith. The Film Till Now. New York: Twayne, 1960. First published in 1930, updated several times, this is an early classic of film scholarship. Sadoul, Georges. Histoiregenerate du cinema. Paris: Denoel, 1973-75. First published in 1948, this is a classic of film history.
Sarris, Andrew. "You Ain't Heard Nothin' Yet." The American Talking Film: History and Memory.
New York: Oxford University Press, 1998. Notes from a lifetime of critical thought. Sklar, Robert. Film: An International History of the Medium. New York: Abrams, 1993.
Stanley, Robert H. The Celluloid Empire: A History of the American Movie Industry. New York:
Hastings House, 1978. Thompson, Kristin, and David Bordwell. Film History: An Introduction. New York: McGrawHill, 1994. Wright, Basil. The Long View. New York: Knopf, 1975. A weighty history, but idiosyncratic.
PERIODS
Anbinder, Paul, ed. Before Hollywood: Turn-of-the-Century American Film. New York: Hudson
HillsPress, 1987. Anger, Kenneth. Hollywood Babylon. Reprint. New York: Delta, 1975. A classic of gossip.
Apra, Adriano, and Patrizia Pistagnesi, eds. The Fabulous Thirties: Italian Cinema 1929-1944.
Rome: Electa International Publishing Group, 1979. Barnes, John. Beginnings of the Cinema in England. New York: Barnes & Noble, 1976. Barr, Charles. Ealing Studios. Woodstock, NY: Overlook Press, 1980. Battcock, Gregory, ed. The New American Cinema. New York: Dutton, 1967.
Biskind, Peter. Seeing Is Believing: How Hollywood Taught Us To Stop Worrying and Love the Fifties.
New York: Pantheon, 1983. Bowser, Eileen. The Transformation of Cinema: 1907-1915. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1990. Vol. 2 of Scribner's History of American Cinema series, Charles Harpole, series editor. Brownlow, Kevin. The Parade's Gone By. New York: Ballantine, 1968. Recommended. Early film history. Brownlow, Kevin. The War, the West, and the Wilderness. London: Seeker & Warburg, 1979. Brownlow, Kevin, and John Kobal. Hollywood: The Pioneers. London: Collins, 1979.
Brownlow, Kevin. Behind the Mask of Innocence: Sex, Violence, Prejudice, Crime: Films of Social
Conscience in the Silent Era. London: Jonathan Cape, 1990. Brownlow, Kevin, and David Gill. Cinema Europe: The Other Hollywood. London: BBC, ZDF, and D. L. Taffner, 1995. A six-part television series (available on VHS) surveying the history of silent film in Europe. A model for film-history documentaries. Highly recommended. Burch, Noel. Life to Those Shadows. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990. The primitive era. Cameron, Ian, ed. Second Wave. New York: Praeger, 1970. Essays on Makavejev, Skolimowski, Oshima, Guerra, Rocha, Groubc, Lefebvre, Straub.
Chanan, Michael. The Dream That Kicks: The Prehistory and Early Years of the Cinema in Britain.
London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1979. Cowie, Peter. Fifty Major Filmmakers. London: Tantivy, 1975.
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Polan, Dana. Power and Paranoia: History, Narrative and the American Cinema, 1940-1950. New York: Columbia University Press, 1986. Powdermaker, Hortense. Hollywood: The Dream Factory. New York: Amo Press, 1924, 1979. Pye, Michael, and Lynda Myles. The Movie Brats: How the Film Generation Took Over Hollywood. London: Faber & Faber; New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1979. Comments on Coppola, Lucas, DePalma, Milius, Scorsese, Spielberg, and others. Ramsaye, Terry. A Million and One Nights: A History of the Motion Picture Through 1925. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1926. Reprints 1964, 1986. A very early and classic history. Ray, Robert B. A Certain Tendency of the Hollywood Cinema, 1930-1980. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985. Ryan, Michael, and Douglas Kellner. Camera Politka: The Politics and Ideology of Contemporary Hollywood Film. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988. Saunders, Thomas J. Hollywood in Berlin: American Cinema and Weimar Germany. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994. Slide, Anthony. Early American Cinema. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1970. Slide, Anthony. Early Women Directors: Their Role in the Development of the Silent Cinema. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1977. Taylor, John Russell. Cinema Eye, Cinema Ear. New York: Hill and Wang, 1964. A landmark in its approach to film as a serious art; surveys the European scene in the sixties. Taylor, John Russell. Directors and Directiom: Cinema for the Seventies. New York: Hill and Wang, 1975. Chabrol, Pasolini, Anderson, Kubrick, Warhol/Morrissey, S. Ray, Jancso, Makavejev. Thomson, David. Overexposures: The Crisis in American Filmmaking. New York: William Monow, 1987. Tonence, Bruce. Hollywood: The First Hundred Years. New York: New York Zoetrope, 1982. A remarkable collection of photographs of early Los Angeles. Wagenknecht, Edward. Movies in the Age ofInnocence. New York: Ballantine, 1971. Early cinema. Walker, Alexander. The Shattered Silents: How the Talkies Came to Stay. New York: William Monow, 1979. Wood, Robin. HollywoodfromVietnam to Reagan. New York: Columbia University Press, 1985.
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Higham, Charles. Hollywood Cameramen. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1970. Higham, Charles. Warner Brothers. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1975. Hoberman, J., and Jonathan Rosenbaum. Midnight Movies. New York: Harper & Row, 1983. Hoberman, J. Bridge ofLight: Yiddish Film Between Two Worlds. New York: Museum of Modem Art, 1991. European and American Yiddish cinema. Houston, Penelope. Keepers of the Frame: The Film Archives. London: British Film Institute, 1994. Insdorf, Annette. Indelible Shadows: The Film and the Holocaust. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Foreword by Elie Wiesel. Jacobs, Lewis, ed. The Documentary Tradition: From Nanook to Woodstock. New York: Hopkinson and Blake, 1971. Ninety-six pieces on documentaries. Kaminsky, Stuan. American Film Genres. Chicago: Nelson-Hall, 1985. Kaplan, E. Ann, ed. Women in Film Noir. London: British Film Institute, 1978. Useful collection. Kawin, Bruce F. Mindscreen: Bergman, Godard, and First-Person Film. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1978. A theory of nanation. Ken, Walter. The Silent Clowns. New York: Knopf, 1975. Recommended. Kitses, Jim. Horizons West. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1970. One of the first practical applications of semiotic theories. Kolker, Robert Phillip. A Cinema ofLoneliness: Penn, Kubrick, Scorsese, Spielberg, Altman. Second ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 1988. Kuhn, Annette, ed. Alien Zone: Cultural Theory and Contemporary Science Fiction Cinema. London, New York: Verso, 1990. Lawder, Standish D. The Cubist Cinema. New York: New York University Press, 1973. Leyda, Jay. Films Beget Films. New York: Hill and Wang, 1965. A study of compilation films. Lovell, Alan, and Jim Hillier. Studies in Documentary. New York: Viking, 1972. Low, Rachel. Documentary and Educational Films of the 1930s. London: Allen & Unwin, 1979. Low, Rachel. Films of Comment and Persuasion of the 1930s. London: Allen & Unwin, 1979. Maltin, Leonard. OfMice and Magic: A History ofAmerican Animated Cartoons. New York: Plume, 1987. Mamber, Stephen. Cinema Verite in America. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1974. Marcorelles, Louis. Living Cinema. New York: Praeger, 1972. Study of Direct Cinema and Concrete Cinema. Mast, Gerald. The Comic Mind: Comedy and the Movies. Second Edition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979. Meeker, David. Jazz in the Movies. Second edition. London: Talisman Books, 1981. Mellen, Joan. Big Bad Wolves: Masculinity in American Films. New York: Pantheon, 1978. Morin, Edgar. Les Stars. Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1972. A classic work. Nichols, Bill. Representing Reality: Issues and Concepts in Documentary. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992 O'Connor, John E., and Martin Jackson, eds. American History/American Film: Interpreting the Hollywood Image. New York: Frederick Ungar, 1978. Patterson, Lindsay, ed. Black Films and Filmmakers. New York: Dodd, Mead, 1975. Prawer, S. S. Caligari's Children: The Film as Tale of Terror. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980. Renan, Sheldon. An Introduction to the American Underground Film. New York: Dutton, 1967. Roddick, Nick. A New Deal in Entertainment: Warner Brothers in the 1930s. London: British Film Institute, 1983.
616
R E A D I N G A B O U T FILM A N D M E D I A Rosenthal, Alan, ed. New Challenges to Documentary. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. Rotha, Paul. Documentary Film. London: Faber and Faber, 1939. A classic. Rotha, Paul. Documentary Diary: An Informal History of the British Documentary Film 1928-1939. New York: Hill and Wang, 1973. Recommended. Roud, Richard. A Passion for Films: Henri Langlois and the Cinematheque Franqaise. New York: Viking Press, 1983. An eloquent homage from one influential cinephile to another. Rubinstein, Leonard. The Great Spy Films: A Pictorial History. Secaucus, NJ: Citadel Press, 1979. Saleh, Dennis. Science Fiction Gold: Classic Films of the Fifties. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1979. Schatz, Thomas. Hollywood Genres: Formulas, Filmmaking, Studio System. Second ed. New York: Random House, 1993. Schrader, Paul. Transcendental Style in Film: Ozu, Bresson, Dreyer. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972. Siegel, Scott, and Barbara Siegel. American Film Comedy: From Abbott & Costello to Jerry Zucker. New York: Prentice-Hall, 1994. A Dictionary. Silver, Alain. The SamuraiFilm. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1975. Siiver, Alain, and Elizabeth Ward, eds. Film Noir: An Encyclopedic Reference to the American Style. Woodstock, NY: Overlook Press, 1988. Sitney, P. Adams. Visionary Film: The American Avant-Garde 1943-1978. Second ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 1979. A serninal study. Recommended. (The first edition, 1974, has a chapter on Gregory Markopoulos not in the second edition.) Sitney, P. Adams, ed. Film Culture Reader. New York: Praeger, 1970. From the magazine devoted to New American Cinema. Smoodin, Eric. Animating Culture: Hollywood Cartoons from the Sound Era. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1993. Sobchack, Vivian Carol. Screening Space: The American Science Fiction Film. Second ed. New York: Ungar, 1987. Solomon, Stanley J. Beyond Formula: American Film Genres. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1976. An interesting approach. Staiger, Janet, ed. The Studio System. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1994. Stam, Robert. Reflexivity in Film and Literature: From Don Quixote to Jean-Luc Godard. New York: Columbia University Press, 1992. Sussex, Elizabeth. The Rise and Fall ofBritish Documentary. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1975. Taylor, John Russell, and Arthur Jackson. The Hollywood Musical. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1971. Telotte, J.F.The Cult Film Experience: Beyond All Reason. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1991. Turan, Kenneth, and Stephen F. Zito. Sinema: American Pornographic Films and the People Who Make Them. New York: Praeger, 1974. Vallance, Tom. The American Musical. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1970. Waller, Gregory A. American Horrors: Essays on the Modern American Horror Film. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1987. Wanen, Patricia. Elstree: The British Hollywood. London: Elm Tree Books, 1983. Wright, Will. Six Guns and Society: A Structural Study of the Western. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1975. Youngblood, Gene. Expanded Cinema. New York: Dutton, 1970. A classic vision of cinematic forms of "the future."
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CINEMAS
Abel, Richard. French Cinema: The First Wave, 1915-1929. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984. Aguilar, Carlos, and Jaume Genover. El Cine espahol en sus interpretes. Madrid: Verdoux, 1992. Anbinder, Paul, ed. Before Hollywood: Turn-of-the-Century American Film. New York: Hudson Hills Press, 1987. Anderson, Joseph L., and Donald Richie. The Japanese Film: Art and Industry. Rev. ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982. A basic text. Apra, Adriano, ed. Le Cinema coreen. Paris: Centre Georges Pompidou, 1993. Armes, Roy. French Cinema Since 1946.2 vols. Second enlarged ed. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1970. A useful monograph. The second volume deals with the New Wave. Armes, Roy. Patterns ofRealism: Italian Neo-Realist Cinema. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1971. Armes, Roy. A Critical History of British Cinema. London: Seeker & Warburg, 1978. Armes, Roy. Third World Film-Making and the West. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. Bamouw, Erik, and S. Krishnaswamy. Indian Film. Second ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 1980. Ban, Charles. Ealing Studios. Newton Abbot: David & Charles, 1977. Ban, Charles, ed. All Our Yesterdays: 90 Years ofBritish Cinema. London: British Film Institute, 1986. Behn, Manfred, and Hans-Michael Bock, eds. Film und Gesellschaft in derDDR: Materielsammlung zu einer veranstaltungsreihe. Two vols. Hamburg: Metropolis/Cinegraph, 1988-89. Betts, Ernest. The Film Business: A History of the British Cinema 1896-1972. New York: Pitman, 1973. Bjorkman, Stig. Film in Sweden: The New Directors. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1976. Bock, Audie. Japanese Film Directors. New York: Kodansha Mternational, 1978. Bock, Hans-Michael, Michael Toteberg, eds. Das Ufa-Buch: Kunst und Krisen, Stars und Regisseure, Wirtshaft und Politik. Frankfurt: Zweitausendeins, 1992. Browne, Nick, et al, eds. New Chinese Cinema: Forms, Identities, Politics. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Burch, Noel. To the Distant Observer: Form and Meaning in the Japanese Cinema. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979. Burton, Julianne. Cinema and Social Change in Latin America: Conversations with Latin American Filmmakers. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1986. Chanan, Michael, ed. Chilean Cinema. London: British Film Institute, 1976. Corrigan, Timothy. New German Film: The Displaced Image. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1983. Cowie, Peter. Screen Series: Sweden 1. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1970. An efficient summary. Cowie, Peter. Dutch Cinema: An Illustrated History. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1979. Cowie, Peter. Finnish Cinema. London: Tantivy Press, 1975. Second ed. Helsinki: VAPK Publishing, 1990. Diawara, Manthia. African Cinema. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992. Downing, John, ed. Film, Politics, and the Third World. New York: Praeger, 1987. Durgnat, Raymond. A Mirror for England. New York: Praeger, 1971. Eberts, Jake, and Terry Ilott. My Indecision Is Final: The Rise and Fall of Goldcrest Films. London and Boston: Faber & Faber, 1990.
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P a r t One: A Basic Library Mora, Carl J. Mexican Cinema: Reflections of a Society. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989. Morris, Peter. Embattled Shadows: A History of Canadian Cinema 1895-1939. Montreai: McGillQueens University Press, 1978. Myerson, Michael. Memories of Underdevelopment: The Revolutionary Films of Cuba. New York: Grossman, 1973. Script of the film plus an essay on Cuban cinema. Nolletti, Arthur, Jr, and David Desser, eds. Reframing Japanese Cinema. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992. Passek, Jean-Loup, ed. Le Cinema indien. Paris: Centre Georges Pompidou, 1983. Petrie, Graham. History Must Answer to Man: The Contemporary Hungarian Cinema. Budapest: Corvina Kiado, 1978; New York: New York Zoetrope, 1980. Pick, Zuzana M. The New Latin American Cinema: A Continental Project. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1993. Radvanyi, Jean, ed. Le Cinema georgien. Paris: Centre Georges Pompidou, 1988. Radvanyi, Jean, ed. Le Cinema d'asiecentrale. Paris: Centre Georges Pompidou, 1991. Rajadhyaksha, Ashish, and Paul Willemen. Encyclopedia of Indian Cinema. London: British Film Institute, 1995. Ramirez-Berg, Charles. Cinema of Solitude: A Critical Study ofMexican Cinema, 1967-1983. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1993. Ratschewa, Maria, and Klaus Eder. Der bulgarischefilm: Geschichte und Gegenwart einer Kinemetographie. Pranklurt: Kommunales Kino, 1977. Rayns, Tony. The New Chinese Cinema: An Introduction, (with King of the Children, by Chen Kaige and Wan Zhi). London and Boston: Faber & Faber, 1989. Richie, Donald. Japanese Cinema: An Introduction. New York: Oxford University Press, 1990. A new edition of this classic first published in 1971. Sadoul, Georges. Le Cinema francais: 1890-1962. Paris: Flammarion, 1962. Classic. Sarris, Andrew. The American Cinema: Directors and Directiom: 1929-1968. New York: Dutton, 1968. Sarris's "Pantheon," blurbs on a great number of directors, plus index. Schnitzer, Luda, Jean Schnitzer, and Marcel Martin. Cinema in Revolution: the Heroic Era of Soviet Film. New York: Hill and Wang, 1973. Soviet cinema. Skvorecky, Josef. All the Bright Young Men and Women: A Personal History of the Czech Cinema. Toronto: Peter Martin Associates, 1971. Slide, Anthony. The Cinema and Ireland. Jefferson: McFarland, 1988. Slide, Anthony. 'The American Film Industry: An Historical Dictionary. New York: Limelight Editions, 1990. Useful reference. Tarn, Kwok-Kan, and Wimal Dissanayake. New Chinese Cinema. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998. Tasic, Zoran, Jean-Loup Passek, eds. Le Cinemayougoslave. Paris: Centre Georges Pompidou, 1986. Tsivian, Yuri. Early Cinema in Russian audits Cultural Reception. London: Routledge, 1994. Usai, Pablo Cherchi, et al. Silent Witnesses: Russian Filnis, 1908-1919. London: British Film Institute, 1990. Youngblood, Denise. Soviet Cinema in the Silent Era, 1918-1935. Ann Arbor, MI: UMI Research Press, 1985.
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FILMMAKERS
ALLEN, W O O D Y Girgus, SamB. The Films of Woody Allen. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993.
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P a r t One: A Basic Library CAPRA, FRANK Capra, Frank. The Name above the Title. New York: Bantam, 1971. Memoirs. McBride, Joseph. Frank Capra: The Catastrophe of Success. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1992. CARNE, MARCEL Turk, Edward Baron. Child of Paradise: Marcel Came and the Golden Age ofFrench Cinema. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press, 1989. CASSAVETES, J O H N Camey, Ray. The Films of John Cassavetes: Pragmatism, Modernism, and the Movies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. CHABROL, CLAUDE Wood, Robin, and Michael Walker. Claude Chabrol. New York: Praeger, 1970. CHAPLIN, CHARLES Chaplin, Charles. My Autobiography. New York: Pocket Books, 1966. Recommended. Maland, Charles J. Chaplin and American Culture. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. Robinson, David. Chaplin: The Mirror of Opinion. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1984. Tyler, Parker. Chaplin, Last of the Clowns. New York: Horizon Press, 1972. CHEN KAIGE Chen Kaige and Wan Zhi. King of the Children. Trans. Bonnie S. McDougall (with The New Chinese Cinema: An Introduction, by Tony Rayns). London and Boston: Faber & Faber, 1989. COCTEAU, JEAN Fraigneau, Andre. Cocteau on the Film. 1954. Reprint. New York: Dover, 1972. Recorded conversations. Gilson, Rene. Jean Cocteau. New York: Crown, 1964. Steegmuller, Francis. Cocteau: A Biography. London: Constable, 1986. COPPOLA, FRANCIS F O R D Cowie, Peter. Coppola. London: Faber and Faber, 1990. Goodwin, Michael, and Naomi Wise. On the Edge: The Life e> Times of Francis Coppola. New York: William Morrow, 1989. CUKOR, GEORGE Lambert, Gavin. On Cukor. New York: Capricorn Books, 1973. McGilligan, Patrick. George Cukor: A Double Life: A Biography of the Gentleman Director. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1991. DEMILLE, CECIL B. Usai, Paolo Cherchi, and Lorenzo Codelli, eds. L'ereditd DeMille/The DeMille Legacy. Pordenone: Edizione Biblioteca dell'Imagine, 1991.
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DEREN, MAYA Clark, Veve A., et al. The Legend ofMaya Deren: A Documentary Biography and Collected Works. New York: Anthology Film Archives/Film Culture, 1984. DISNEY, WALT Eliot, Marc. Walt Disney ...A Biography. Secaucus, NJ: Carol Publishing Group, 1993. Smoodin, Eric, ed. Disney Discourse: Producing the Magic Kingdom. New York: Routledge, 1994.
622
P a r t One: A Basic Library GODARD, JEAN-LUC Bellour, Raymond, and Mary Lea Bandy, eds. Jean-Luc Godard: Son + Image: 1974r-1991. New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1992. Cameron, Ian, ed. The Fttms of Jean-Luc Godard. New York: Praeger, 1969. Collection of essays. Godard, Jean-Luc. Godard On Godard. Edited by Tom Milne. New York: Viking, 1972. MacBean, James Roy. Film and Revolution. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1975. Includes several major essays on Godard. Recommended. Mussman, Toby, ed. Jean-Luc Godard. New York: Dutton, 1968. Collection of essays. Roud, Richard. Jean-Luc Godard. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1969. A seminal critical work. Recommended. Sterritt, David. The Films ofJean-Luc Godard: Seeing the Invisible. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999. GOLDWYN, SAMUEL Berg, A. Scott. Goldwyn: A Biography. New York: Knopf, 1989. GREENAWAY, PETER Lawrence, Amy. The Films ofPeter Greenaway. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997. GRIERSON, J O H N Hardy, Forsyth. John Grierson: A Documentary Biography. London: Faber and Faber, 1979.
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GRIFFITH, D . W. Brown, Karl. Adventures with D. W. Griffith. Kevin Brownlow, ed. London: Seeker & Warburg, 1973. Geduld, Harry M., ed. Focus on D. W. Griffith. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hafl, 1971. Gunning, Tom. D. W. Griffith and the Origins ofAmerican Narrative Film: The Early Years at Biograph. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1991. Henderson, Robert M. D. W. Griffith: His Life and Work. New York: Oxford University Press, 1972. Henderson, Robert M. D. W. Griffith: The Years at Biograph. New York: Noonday, 1970. Schickel, Richard. D. W. Griffith: An American Life. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1984. Wagenknecht, Edward, and Anthony Slide. The Films ofD. W. Griffith. New York: Crown, 1976. HAWKS, HOWARD McBride, Joseph, ed. Focus on Howard Hawks. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1972. Wood, Robin. Howard Hawks. Revised ed. London: British Film Institute, 1968, 1981. HERZOG, WERNER Blank, Les, and James Bogan, eds. Burden ofDreams: Screenplay, Journals, Reviews, Photographs. Berkeley: North Atlantic Books, 1984. Corrigan, Timothy. The Films of Werner Herzog: Between Mirage and History. New York: Routledge, 1986. HITCHCOCK, ALFRED Durgnat, Raymond. Strange Case ofAlfred Hitchcock. Boston: MIT Press, 1975. Modleski, Tania. The Women Who Knew too Much. New York and London: Methuen, 1988. Rohmer, Eric, and Claude Chabrol. Hitchcock: The First 44 Films. Trans. Stanley Hochman. New York: Frederick Ungar, 1978. Spoto, Donald. The Art ofAlfred Hitchcock: Fifty Years ofHis Motion Pictures. New York: Hopkinson & Blake, 1976. Sterritt, David. The Films ofAlfred Hitchcock. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1993.
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KUBRICK, STANLEY Agel, Jerome. The Making of "2001." New York: Signet, 1970. A chatty compendium in the style of the "non-book" popular in the sixties. Ciment, Michel, ed. Stanley Kubrick. Paris: Editions Rivages, 1987. Clarke, Arthur C. Lost Worlds of "2001." New York: Signet, 1972. The screenwriter's journal of his experiences. Dumont, Jean-Paul, and Jean Monod. Le Foetus astral. Paris: Editions Christian Bourgeois, 1970. One of the earliest full-length structuralist studies of a film (2001). Kagan, Norman. The Cinema of Stanley Kubrick. New York: Continuum, 1989. Nabokov, Vladimir. Lolita: A Screenplay. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1975. Not strictly about the film, this is Nabokov's original screenplay, which differs considerably from the final film. Comparison is interesting. KUROSAWA, AKIRA Prince, Stephen. The Warrior's Camera: The Cinema ofAkira Kurosawa. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. Richie, Donald. Films ofAkira Kurosawa. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1965. LANG, FRITZ Eisner, Lotte H. Fritz Lang. David Robinson, ed. London: Seeker & Warburg, 1976. LEE, SPIKE Lee, Spike. Five for Five: The Films of Spike Lee. New York: Stewart, Tabori, & Chang/ Workman, 1991. Lee, Spike. By Any Means Necessary: The Making ofMalcolm X. New York: Hyperion, 1992. LENI, PAUL Bock, Hans-Michael, ed. Paul Lent: Grafik, Theater, Film. Frankfurt: Deutsches Filmmuseum, 1986.
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PORTER, E D W I N S. Musser, Charles. Before the Nickelodeon: Edwin S. Porter and the Edison Manufacturing Company. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. POWELL, MICHAEL A N D EMERIC PRESSBURGER Christie, Ian. Arrows ofDesire: The Films ofMichael Powell and Emeric Pressburger. London: Faber and Faber, 1994. Powell, Michael. A Life in Movies: An Autobiography. New York: Knopf, 1987. Powell, Michael. Million-Dollar Movie: The Second Volume of His A Life in Movies. London: Hefnemann, 1992.
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P a r t One: A Basic Library SCHRADER, PAUL Schrader, Paul. Schroder on Schroder & other Writings. Ed. Kevin Jackson. London and Boston: Faber & Faber, 1990. SCORSESE, MARTIN Keyser, Les. Martin Scorsese. New York: Twayne, 1992. Thomson, David, and Ian Christie. Scorsese on Scorsese. London: Faber and Faber, 1989. SELZNICK, DAVID O. Thomson, David. Showman: The Life ofDavid 0. Selznick. New York: Knopf, 1992. SJOSTROM, VICTOR Forslund, Bengt. Victor Sjostrom: His Life and His Work. Trans. Peter Cowie. New York: New York Zoetrope, 1988. Recommended. SPIELBERG, STEVEN Mott, Donald R., and Cheryl McAlister Saunders. Steven Spielberg. Boston: Twayne, 1986. STRAUB, JEAN-MARIE Roud, Richard. Straub. New York: Viking, 1972. STURGES, PRESTON Jacobs, Diane. Christmas in July: The Life and Art of Preston Sturges. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992. Highly recommended. TATI, JACQUES Maddock, Brent. The Films of Jacques Tati. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1977. TRUFFAUT, FRANCOIS Allen, Don. Truffaut. New York: Viking, 1974. Crisp, C. G. Francois Truffaut. New York: Praeger, 1972. Insdorf, Annette. Francois Truffaut. Revised edition. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1995. Originally published in 1978, this is a classic work. Truffaut, Francois. Truffaut by Truffaut. New York: Abrams, 1987. VERTOV, DZIGA Vertov, Dziga. Kino-Eye: The Writings ofDziga Vertov. Annette Michelson, ed.; Kevin O'Brien, trans. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984. VIDOR, KING Durgnat, Raymond, and Scott Simmon. King Vidor, American. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988. VIGO, JEAN Salles Gomes, P. E. Jean Vigo. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1971. Smith, John M. Jean Vigo. New York: Praeger, 1972. VISCONTI, LUCHINO Nowelf-Smith, Geoffrey. Luchino Visconti. New York: Doubleday, 1968. V O N STERNBERG, JOSEF Weinberg, Herman. Josef Von Sternberg: A Critical Study. New York: Dutton, 1967. V O N STROHEIM, ERICH Curtis, Thomas Quinn. Von Stroheim. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1971. Koszarski, Richard. The Man You Love To Hate: Erich von Stroheim and Hollywood. New York: Oxford University Press, 1983. Weinberg, Herman. Stroheim: A Pictorial Record ofHis Nine Films. New York: Dover, 1975.
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CRITICISM
Adler, Renata. A Year in the Dark. New York: Random House, 1969. This "journal" of Adler's year on the New York Times provides an interesting minor of the work of the daily critic. Agee, James. Agee on Film. Vol. 1: Criticism; Vol. 2: Screenplays. Reprint. New York: Grosset, 1969. Possibly the most important American film reviewer of the early years. Vol. 1 recommended. Allen, Richard, and Murray Smith, eds. Film Theory and Philosophy. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999. A collection of iconoclastic essays challenging cunent dogma. Andrew, Dudley. The Major Film Theories: An Introduction. Second ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 1976, 1989. The best available one-volume introduction to film theory. Highly recommended.
629
Andrew, Dudley. Andre Bazin. New York: Oxford University Press, 1978. An important and engaging study of the man and his thought. Highly recommended. Andrew, Dudley. Concepts in Film Theory. New York: Oxford University, 1984. A continuation of The Major Film Theories. Arnheim, Rudolf. Film as Art. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1957, 1966. A classic exposition of expressionist theory. Recommended. Balazs, Bela. Theory of the Film: Character and Growth ofa New Art. Trans. Edith Bone. 1952. Reprint. New York: Dover, 1970. Barsam, Richard. Nonfiction Film Theory. New York: Dutton, 1980. Barthes, Roland. Elements of Semiology[Writing Degree Zero. Trans. Annette Lavers and Colin Smith. Boston: Beacon, 1968. Essentially a literary critic, Barthes remains basic reading for anyone interested in semiotics. Recommended. Barthes, Roland. S/Z. 1970. Trans. Richard Miller. Preface by Richard Howard. New York: Hill and Wang, 1974. Barthes, Roland. Mythologies. Trans. Annette Lavers. New York: Hill and Wang, 1972. Barthes, Roland. The Pleasure of the Text. 1973. Trans. Richard Miller, with a note on the text by Richard Howard. New York: Hill and Wang, 1975. Bazin, Andre. What Is Cinema?! vols. Selected and translated by Hugh Gray. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1967, 1971. Selections from the multivolume Qu 'est-ce que le cinema? Essential. Bazin, Andre. The Cinema of Cruelty. New York: Okpaku Communications, 1977. Bellour, Raymond, Thierry Kuntzel, and Christian Metz, eds. Psychoanalyse et cinema. Paris: Editions du Seuil, 1975. French psychoanalytic semiotics. Benjamin, Walter. Illuminations. Edited by Hannah Arendt. New York: Schocken, 1968. Essays from the 1930s by one of the leading dialectical critics. See especially "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction." A seminal essay; recommended. Bettetmi, Gianfranco. The Language and Technique of the Film. The Hague: Mouton, 1973. A pioneering Italian semiotician. Bondanelfa, Peter. Umherto Eco and the Open Text: Semiotics, Fiction, and Popular Culture. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Bordwell, David. Narration in the Fiction Film. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1985. Bordwelf, David. Making Meaning: Inference and Rhetoric in the Interpretation of Cinema. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989. Bordwell, David, and Noel Carroll, eds. Post-Theory: Reconstructing Film Studies. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1986. The title says it all. Burch, Noel. The Theory ofFilm Practice. New York: Praeger, 1973. One of the two basic English-language semiotic approaches. Cameron, Ian, ed. Movie Reader. New York: Praeger, 1972. Thirty-three articles on various topics that first appeared in the highly respected magazine Movie; includes the Movie "Pantheon." Cavell, Stanley. The World viewed: Reflections on the Ontology of Film. New York: Viking, 1971. Recommended. Cooke, Alistair, ed. Garbo & the Night Watchmen. 1937. London: Seeker & Warburg, 1971. A classic anthology from the thirties. Denby, David. Awake in the Dark: An Anthology ofAmerican Film Criticism 1915 to the Present. New York: Random House, 1977. Dovzhenko, Alexander. The Poet as Filmmaker: Selected Writings. Edited and translated by Marco Carynnyk. Boston: MIT Press, 1973.
630
P a r t One: A Basic Library Kael, Pauline. I Lost It at the Movies. New York: Bantam, 1965. Kael's work in periodicals has been rigorously anthologized, offering a comprehensive survey of the sixties through the eighties that is unrivaled. Succeeding volumes in the series all have titles that echo the sexual connotation: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. New York: Bantam, 1968. Going Steady. New York: Bantam, 1971. Deeper into Movies. New York: Bantam, 1974. Reeling. Boston: Little, Brown, 1976. When the Lights Go Down. New York: Holt, Rinehart, & Winston, 1980. Hooked. New York: Dutton, 1989. Movie Love. New York: Dutton, 1991. For Keeps. New York: Dutton, 1994. See also the exchange between Kael and Andrew Sarris on the auteur theory in 1963'sFilm Quarterly, Spring, Summer, and Fall issues (16:3, 16:4, 17:1).
631
Kael, Pauline. 5001 Nights at the Movies. Rev. ed. New York: Henry Holt, 1982, 1991. Kael's general guide, most culled from short takes first published in The New Yorker magazine. Kaplan, B. Ann. Postmodernism and Its Discontents: Theories, Practices. London: Routledge, 1988. Kaplan, E. Ann. Psychoanalysis and Cinema. New York: Routledge, 1990. Kauffmann, Stanley. Figures ofLight. New York: Harper & Row, 1971. Film criticism and the literary sensibility. Other coliections: Living Images. New York: Harper & Row, 1975. A World on Film. New York: Harper & Row, 1966. Kauffmann, Stanley, and Bruce Henstell, eds. American Film Criticism: From the Beginnings to Citizen Kane." New York: Liveright, 1972. A very useful anthology. Wide-ranging and thorough. Kracauer, Siegfried. Theory ofFilm: The Redemption ofPhysical Reality. New York: Oxford University Press, 1960. An essential exposition of realist theory. Recommended. Kuhn, Annette. Women's Pictures: Feminism and Cinema. New York: Roufiedge, 1982. Kuleshov, Lev. Kuleshov on Film. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1975. Lacan, Jacques. Pcrits:A Selection. New York: Norton, 1977. An introduction to Lacan's work in English. Lane, Michael, ed. Introduction to Structuralism. New York: Basic Books, 1970. Not specifically about film, but a useful introduction. Langlois, Henri. Trois cents ans de cinema: Baits. Jean Narboni, ed. Paris: Cahiers du Cinema/ Cinematheque Francaise, 1986. Collected texts of the famous archivist. Lapsley, Robert, and Michael Wesdake. Film Theory: An Introduction. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1989. Lindsay, Vachel. The An ofthe Moving Picture. New York: Macmillan, 1915. The poet examines the young art of movies. Lopate, Phillip. Totally Tenderly Tragically: Essays and Criticism from a Lifelong Love Affair with the Movies. New York: Doubleday, 1998. Collection of film pieces from the veteran essayist. Lorentz, Pare. Lorentzon Film. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1975. The filmmaker as critic. MacCann, Richard D., ed. Film: A Montage of Theories. New York: Dutton, 1966. Forty essays by filmmakers and critics. Recommended. Macdonald, Dwight. On Movies. New York: Berkley, 1971. Macdonald's limited foray into film criticism provides a useful view of the essentially political sensibility confronting the art. A classic of early film criticism. Mast, Gerald, Marshall Cohen, and Leo Braudy, eds. Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings. 1974. Fifth ed. New York: Oxford University Press, i998. A very useful collection of theoretical texts. Highly recommended. McConnell, Frank. Storytelling andMythmaking: Images from Film and Literature. New York: Oxford University Press, 1979. An interesting theory of narrativity.
632
P a r t One: A Basic Library Thompson, Kristin. Breaking the Glass Armor: Neoformalist Film Analysis. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988. Truffaut, Francois. The Films in My Life. New York: Grove Press, 1978. Tudor, Andrew. Theories ofFilm.New York: Viking, 1973. Useful survey. Tyler, Parker. Classics of the Foreign Film. New York: Citadel, 1962. Influential in its day. Warshow, Robert. Tl-ie Immediate Experience. 1962. Reprint. New York: Atheneum, 1970. Next to Agee, the most important critic of film's adolescence. Especially useful on film as popular art. Weinberg, Herman G. Saint Cinema: Writings on the Film: 1929-1970. New York: Dover, 1973. Wollen, Peter. Signs and Meaning in the Cinema. Second ed. New York: Viking, 1972. A seminal semiotic study in English. Highly recommended. Wollen, Peter. Readings and Writings. London: Verso, 1982. Wood, Robin. Personal Views: Explorations in Film. London: Gordon Frazer, 1976.
633
6. MEDIA
Allen, Robert C. Speaking of Soap Operas. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1985. Allen, Robert C, ed. Channels ofDiscourse, Reassembled. Second ed. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1992. Theories and methods of criticism applied to particular shows. Altick, Richard D. The English Common Reader: A Social History of the Mass Reading Public, 18001900. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963. Ang, Ian. Watching Dallas. London: Methuen, 1985. Aden, Michael. Living Room War: Writings About Television. New York: The Viking Press, 1969. Auletta, Ken. Three Blind Mice: How the TV Networks Lost Their Way. New York: Random House, 1991. Balio, Tino. Hollywood in the Age of Television. Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1990. Barnouw, Erik. A History ofBroadcasting in the United States. New York: Oxford University Press. Vol. I: A Tower in Babel, 1966. Vol. 2: Tlte Golden Web, 1968. Vol. 3: The Image Empire, 1970. The standard work on the subject. Highly recommended. Barnouw, Erik. The Sponsor: Notes on a Modem Potentate. New York: Oxford University Press, 1978. A short and pithy analysis. Barnouw, Erik. Tube ofPlenty: The Evolution ofAmerican Television. New York: Oxford University Press, Second revised ed. 1990. A one-volume revision of A History of Broadcasting in the United States. Highly recommended. Bibb, Porter. It Ain't as Easy as It Looks: Ted Turner's Amazing Story. New York: Crown, 1993. Boddy, William. Fifties Television: The Industry and its Critics. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1990. Briggs, Asa. A History of Broadcasting in the United Kingdom. 3 vols. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1961-79. Brooks, John. Telephone: The First Hundred Years. New York: Harper & Row, 1976. Brown, Les. Television: The Business Behind the Box. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1972. Carey, James W. Communication as Culture: Essays on Media and Society. New York: Routledge, 1989. Excellent theory, without the jargon. Chappie, Steve, and Reebee Garofalo. Rock 'n' Roll Is Here To Pay: The History and Politics of the Music Industry. Chicago: Nelson-Hall, 1977. An excellent introduction to the subject.
634
635
Mankiewicz, Frank, and Joel Swerdlow. Remote Control: Television and the Manipulation of American Life. New York: Times Books, 1978. Recommended. Marc, David. Demographic Vistas: Television in American Culture. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1984. Critical insights on programming. Marc, David. Comic Visions. New York: Routledge, 1989. Mayer, Martin. About Television. New York: Harper & Row, 1974. McArthur, Colin. Television and History. London: British Film Institute, 1978. McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media: The Extensions ofMan. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1964. Controversial and often unintelligible, but seminal. McRobbie, Angela. Postmodernism and Popular Culture. London: Routledge, 1994. Miller, Jonathan. Marshall McLuhan. New York: Viking Press, 1971. The comedian/ physician/producer/writer takes on the gum. Miller, Mark Crispin. Boxed In: The Culture of TV. Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1988. Monaco, James, et al. Celebrity: Who Gets It, How They Use It, Why It Works. New York: Delta Books, 1978. Includes analysis of star images of the seventies. Monaco, James, et al. Media Culture: Television, Books, Radio, Records, Magazines, Newspapers, Movies. New York: Delta Books, 1978. Mueller, Claus. The Politics of Communication. New York: Oxford University Press, 1973. Naremore, James, and Patrick Brantlinger, eds. Modernity and Mass Culture. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1991. Newcomb, Horace. TV: The Most Popular Art. New York: Doubleday, 1974. Newcomb, Horace, ed. Television: The Critical View. Fifth ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 1994. This has become a standard, essential anthology. Newcomb, Horace, and Robert Alley. The Producer's Medium: Conversations with Creators of American TV. New York: Oxford University Press, 1983. Palmer, Tony. All You Need Is Love: The Story ofPopular Music. New York: Grossman, 1976. Postman, Neil. Amusing Ourselves to Death. New York: Viking Penguin, 1986. Powers, Ron. 77K Newscasters: The News Business as Show Business. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1977. Schiller, Herbert I. Mass Communications and American Empire. Boston: Beacon Press, 1969. Schiller, Herbert I. Culture, Inc.: The Corporate Takeover ofPublic Expression. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989. Schwartz, Tony. The Responsive Chord: How Radio and TV Manipulate You. New York: Anchor, 1973. Shanks, Bob. The Cool Eire: How To Make It in Television. New York: Norton, 1976. Sklar, Robert. Prime-Time America: Life On and Behind the Television Screen. New York: Oxford University Press, 1980. Smith, Anthony. The Newspaper: An International History. London: Thames & Hudson, 1979. An introduction. Smith, Anthony. Good-bye, Gutenberg: The Newspaper Revolution of the Eighties. New York: Oxford University Press, 1980. Smith, Anthony, and Richard Paterson, eds. Television: An International History. Second Edition. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998. Basic reference. Smith, Sally Bedell. In All His Glory: The Life of William S. Paley. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1990. A remarkable biography. Smithsonian Institution. Histoiy ofMusic Machines. New York and London: Drake, 1975. Introduction by Erik Bamouw.
636
7. NEW
MEDIA
Apple Computer, Inc. Macintosh Human Interface Guidelines. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1992. For anyone interested in the logic of interface design this is the bible. Augarten, Stan. State of the Art: A Photographic History of the Integrated Circuit. New York: Ticknor & Fields, 1983. Now several generations out of date, but still instructive. Auganen, Stan. Bit by Bit: An Illustrated History of Computers. New York: Ticknor & Fields, 1984. An interesting and usefut survey of the early history. Benedikt, Michael. Cyberspace: First Steps. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1991. Brinkley, Joel. Defining Vision: How Broadcasters Lured the Government into Indting a Revolution in Television. San Diego: Harcourt Brace & Company, 1997. The politics and intrigue of the HDTV standard. Eco, Umberto. Travels in Hyperreality. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1986. Includes important essays on culture and media. Elsaesser, Thomas, and Kay Hoffman, eds. Cinema Futures: Cain, Abel or Cable? The Screen Arts in the Digital Age. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1998. An international collection of essays on the digital challenge. Gabler, Neal. Life The Movie: How Entertainment Conquered Reality. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1998. Gabler's take on the Huxley critique. Harley, Robert. The Complete Guide to High-End Audio. Second edition. Albuquerque, NM: Acapella, 1994, 1998. Harley explains the new technology clearly and concisely. Harley, Robert. Home Theater for Everyone. Albuquerque, NM: Acapella, 1997. A useful introduction to the new maze of digital audio and video. Hiltzik, Michael. Dealers of Lightning: Xerox PARC and the Dawn of the Computer Age. New York: Harper Business, 1999. A thorough history of die microcomputer's nursery. Johnson, Steven. Interface Culture: How New Technology Transforms the Way We Create and Communicate. New York: Harper Edge, 1997. The editor of Feed webzine offers his view of new media. Kelly, Kevin. Out of Control: The New Biology ofMachines, Sodal Systems, and the Economic World. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1994. The Wired sensibility. Levtnson, Paul. Digital McLuhan: A Guide to the Information Millenium. New York: Routledge, 1999. An approach to McLuhan's thought thirty years on. Levy, Steven. Insanely Great: The Life and Times ofMadntosh, the Computer That Changed Everything. New York: Viking, 1994. A good overview of Apple history.
637
Long, Mark. The World of Satellite TV: Covering MPEG Digital TV. Ninth edition. Summertown TN: The Book Publishing Company, 1998. Standard guide to the subject. Lubar, Steven. InfoCulture: The Smithsonian Book ofInformation Age Inventions. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1993. Companion volume to the exhibit of the same name and a thoughtful and thorough survey of information technology. Luther, Arch. Principles of Digital Audio and Video. Boston: Artech House, 1997. An excellent technical introduction to the subject. Luther, Arch. Video Recording Technology. Boston: Artech House, 1999. Negroponte, Nicholas. Being Digital. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995. The founder of the Media Lab at MLT and a multimedia pioneer cogitates on the future of the information society. Nelson, Ted. Computer Lib/Dream Machines, 1974. Revised edition. Redmond, WA: Microsoft Press, 1987. A classic text. Norman, Donald A. The Design ofEveryday Things. New York: Doubleday, 1988,1990. An early essay on psycho-semiotics that became a classic of interface theory. Smith, Anthony. Books to Bytes: Knowledge and Information in the Post Modern Era. London: British Film Institute, 1993. Stoll, Clifford, The Cuckoo s Egg. New York: Doubleday, 1989. In the mid-1980s astronomer Clifford Stoll was drawn into a year-long Internet espionage saga whose story is told here. A PBS documentary on the subject and many lectures helped to form one of the central myths of network hacking. Stoll, Clifford. Silicon Snake Oil: Second Thoughts on the Information Highway. New York: Doubleday, 1995. An Internet hero realizes that, for all its advantages, the Web presents the same social and political problems as television before it. Taylor, Jim. DVD Demystified: The Guidebook for DVD-Video and DVD-ROM. New York: McGrawHill, 1997. A tour de force of technical writing, Jim Taylor's book explains an insidiously complex subject with eloquence and common sense. Must reading for anyone interested in digital media of any sort. Tognazzini, Bruce. Tog on Interface. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1992. The interface gum tackles specific problems in an enlightening way. Wallace, James, and Jim Erickson. Hard Drive: Bill Gates and the Making of the Microsoft Empire. New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1992. A good overview of early Microsoft history.
8. LISTS AND
ENCYCLOPEDIAS
FILM
The rise of video has made film reference works viable publishing projects. There are n o w dozens of choices o n the reference shelves of most bookstores. In the sixties such information was hard to come by. Georges Sadoul in France and Roger Manvell and Tim Cawkwell in England pioneered the field of comprehensive film reference. At about the same time, Peter Cowie began his series of annual Film Guides, and Leslie Halliwell in the U.K. and Leonard Maltin in the U.S. brought
638
P a r t Two: Information
639
Katz, Ephraim. The Film Encyclopedia. Second ed. New York: Harper-Collins, 1994. A herculean labor of love by the late film scholar, this has become an essential reference since it was first published in 1980. Magill, Frank N., ed. Magill's Survey of'Cinema: First Series, 1980; Second Series, 1981; Silent Films, 1982; Foreign Language Films, 1985. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Salem Press. Maltin, Leonard, ed. Movie and Video Guide. Annual. New York: New American Library, Signet 1969- . Tens of thousands of entries with capsule descriptions. Maltin, Leonard, ed. Leonard Maltin's Movie Encyclopedia. New York: Dutton, 1994. Manvell, Roger, and Lewis Jacobs, eds. International Encyclopedia ofFilm. New York: Crown, 1972. Monaco, James, ed. Who's Who in American Film Now. Second ed. New York: New York Zoetrope, 1987. A guide to credits of more than 12,000 actors, actresses, and filmmakers. Based on the Baseline database. Monaco, James, and James Pallot, eds., with the editors of Baseline. The Encyclopedia ofFilm. New York: Perigee Books; London: Virgin Books, 1991. Based on the Baseline database. Monaco, James, and James Pallot, eds. The Movie Guide. New York: Perigee Books, 1992. The Virgin International Film Guide, Second ed. London: Virgin Books, 1993. Based on the CineBooks database. Monaco, James. The Dictionary of New Media. New York: Harbor Electronic Publishing, 1999. An extensive survey of new (and old) media language, with an introductory chapter on the digital revolution. The New York Times Directory of the Film. New York: Amo Press, 1970, 1974. A computergenerated name index to Times film reviews. Passek, Jean-Loup, ed. Dictionnaire du cinema. Paris: Larousse, 1986. Pratt, Douglas. The Laser Video Disc Companion. Third ed. New York: New York Zoetrope, 1995. An excellent and comprehensive guide to laserdiscs, with interesting commentary on the films. Pratt, Douglas. Doug Pratt's Guide to DVD-Video. New York: Harbor Electronic Publishing, 1999. After 16 years in the disc reviewing business, Pratt knows whereof he speaks. Extensive and knowledgeable. Roud, Richard, ed. Cinema: A Critical Dictionary: The Major Filmmakers. 2 vols. London: Seeker 8- Warburg; New York: Viking, 1980. Sadoul, Georges. Dictionary ofFilms, Dictionary ofFilmmakers. Translated and updated by Peter Morris. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1972. Scheuer, Steven H., ed. Movies on TV. Annual. New York: Bantam Books, 1958- . 20,000 entries. Plot summaries and capsule reviews. Thomas, Nicholas, ed. International Dictionary ofFilm and Filmmakers. 5 vols. Detroit: Saint James Press, 1991-94. Thomson, David. A Biographical Dictionary ofFilm. Second ed. London: Seeker & Warburg; New York: Monow, 1981. Excellent essays on star personas. Recommended. Wakeman, John. World Film Directors. New York: H. W. Wilson, 1987. 2 vols. Useful essays on major international figures. RADIO AND TELEVISION Brooks, Tim, and Earle Marsh. The Complete Directory to Prime Time Network TV Shows 1946Present. New York: Ballantine, 1979. Subsequent editions. Brown, Les, ed. Les Brown's Encyclopedia of Television. Third ed. Detroit: Visible Ink Press, 1992. An invaluable reference by the dean of American television critics.
640
9. BOOK
BIBLIOGRAPHIES
Basic Books in the Mass Media. Eleanor Blum. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1972. A basic bibliography. Bibliography of National Pilmographies. Harriet W. Harrison, ed. Brussels: FTAF, 1985. Cinema Booklist. George Rehrauer. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1972. Supplement One, 1974. Supplement Two, 1976. The standard bibliographic guide to film literature. Film Criticism: An Index to Critics' Anthologies. Richard Hefnzkill. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1975. Literature of the Film. Alan Dyment. London: White Lion Publishers, 1975. Moving Pictures: An Annotated Guide to Selected Film Literature. Eileen Sheahan. Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1978. Film: A Reference Guide. Robert A. Armour. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1980. Literature of the Film. Alan Dyment. London: White Lyon, 1975.
LITERATURE
Of the seven guides to periodical literature in film, three limit themselves to film magazines, one is mainly devoted to film magazines but includes material from occasional general publications, one concentrates on general magazines, and one covers a wide range of both specialist and general periodicals. Of the three that concentrate on film journals, two are limited to English-language magazines. Each is therefore useful in its o w n way, although there is considerable overlapping. International Index to Film Periodicals. Produced by the International Federation of Film Archives (FIAF). 1971 to present. Annual, various publishers. The standard index to film periodicafs; covers foreign-language joumais as well as English. See also International Index to Television Periodicals. FIAF. Four volumes to date, 1979-90. The Film Index: A Bibliography. Vol. 1: The Film as Art. Vol. 2: The Film as Industry. Vol. 3: The Film in Society. Compiled by the Writers' Program of the Works Project Administration Staff, 1941. Reprint. Millwood, NY: Kraus International Publications, 1985-88. An early classic guide. The New Film Index. Edited by Richard Dyer MacCann and Edward S. Perry. New York: Dutton, 1975. 540 pp. Covers 38 film magazines in English as well as occasional other journals from 1930 to 1970. Together with the FIAF yearly volumes, comprises a basic research tool. The Critical Index. John C. and Lana Gerlach. New York: Teachers College Press, 1974.726 pp. Computer-generated bibliography of articles on film in English, 1946-1973. 22 periodicals covered.
P a r t Two: Information
641
Index to Critical Film Reviews in British and American Film Periodicals; Together with Index to Critical Reviews of Books About Film: 1930-1972. 2 vols. Stephen E. Bowles. New York: Burt Franklin Co., 1975. Approximately 700 pp. The index of book reviews is unique. A Guide to Critical Reviews, Part 4: Bibliography of Critical Reviews ofFeature Length Motion Pictures Released from October 1927 through 1963. James R. Salem. 2 vols. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1971. 12,000 entries. Retrospective Index to Film Periodicals 1930-1971. Linda Batty. New York: R. R. Bowker, 1975. Companion to the FIAF yearly indexes listed above. 20 English-language periodicals covered. Motion Picture Directors: A Bibliography ofMagazine and Periodical Articles, 1900-1969. Mel Schuster. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1973. 418 pp. Film Literature Index. Albany: State University of New York at Albany, Film and Television Documentation Center, 1973-present. Annual. A subject/author index covering more than 300 film periodicals in various languages and 125 English-language general interest magazines. Film Review Index. Vol. 1:1882-1949,1986; Vol. 2:1950-1985,1987. Phoenix, AZ: Oryx. Film Review Annual. Englewood, NJ: Jerome S. Ozer, 1981-present. Annual. 772i? New York Times Film Reviews 1913-1968. 6 vols. New York: Amo Press, 1970. A complete reprinting covering more than 17,000 films together with a cumulative index. The New York Times Film Reviews 1913-1970: A One-Volume Selection. Edited by George Amberg. New York: Quadrangle, 1971. 495 pp. The Drama Scholar's Index to Plays andFilmscripts: A Guide to Plays andFilmscripts in Selected Anthologies, Series, and Periodicals. Gordon Samples. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1974. 460 pp.
11. MISCELLANEOUS
GUIDES
Cowie, Peter, ed. International Film Guide. Yearly, 1964- . London: Tantivy Press. One of the most useful film references with a variety of essays on many topics. Especially useful for its surveys of annual production in many countries. Since 1990, Variety International Film Guide. Recommended. Enser, A. G. S., ed. Filmed Books and Plays: 1928-1974. New York: Academic Press, 1974. A list of books and plays from which films have been made. Gianakos, Lany. Television Drama Series Programming: A Comprehensive Chronicle, 1959-1975. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1979. Klotman, Phyllis Rauch. Frame by Frame: A Black Filmography. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1979. Konigsberg, Ira. The Complete Film Dictionary. Second edition. New York: Penguin, 1997. Marill, Alvin H. Movies Made for Television: The Telefeature and the Miniseries 1964-1986. Third ed. New York: New York Zoetrope, 1987. Monaco, James. The Connoisseur's Guide to Movies. New York: Facts On File, 1985. A selective list of 1,400 interesting or significant films. Powers, Ann. Blacks in American Movies. Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1974. Steinberg, Cobbett. Film Facts. New York: Facts On File, 1980. Thompson, Hilary, etal., eds. 1951-1976 British Film Institute Productions: A Catalogue ofFilms Made Under the Auspices of the Experimental Film Fund 1951-1966 and the Production Board 1966-1976. London: British Film institute, 1977. Truitt, Evelyn. Who Was Who On Screen: 1920-1971. New York: R. R. Bowker, 1974. 480 pp. 6,000 screen personalities.
642
12. JOURNALS
AND
MAGAZINES
At one time or another, more than 500 film magazines have been published in the English language alone. As many as 200 survive today. This is a selected list that includes most magazines currently indexed plus a few others that, although small in circulation, have some influence. Be forewarned: most film journals are fragile; some of these may be out of circulation by the time you read this. American Cinematographer. Hollywood. The leading technical journal. VAvant-Scene du Cinema, 6 rue Git le coeur 75006 Paris. Venerable periodical that publishes complete screenplays of new films and classics; sometimes bilingual. Cahiers du Cinema. Paris. The most influential film journal ever published. Camera Obscura. Film Studies Program, University of California at Santa Barbara. Feminist film theory. Cineaste. Edited by Gary Crowdus. New York. Recommended for its eclectic and politically sensitive approach. This quarterly has shown unusual longevity. Cinema Journal. Theoretical journal of the Society for Cinema Studies. Edited at the University of Illinois at Urbana; published by the University of Texas Press, Austin. The DVD/Laser Disc Newsletter. Douglas Pratt. Monthly. Founded in 1984, this one-man operation provides the best writing about DVDs and Laserdiscsand some of the best writing about film, period. New York. VVWW.DVDLaser.com. Fax: 516 594 9307. Film Comment. Edited by Richard T. Jameson. Film Society of Lincoln Center, New York. Bimonthly. Film Dope. 5 Norman Court, Little Heath, Potters Bar, Hertfordshire EN6 1HY, England. Quarterly. A serial dictionary of film. Film History: An International Journal. Edited by Richard Koszarski, American Museum of the Moving Image. Accessible historical essays, well illustrated. Film Quarterly. University of California Press, Berkeley. Quarterly. Long edited by Ernest Callenbach. Now edited by Ann Martin. Iris. Editions Anafeph, Paris. Theoreticaf French-English copublication. Journal ofFilm and Video. University Film and Video Association. Journal ofPopular Film. Bowling Green State University, Bowling Green, OH. Quarterly. Literature/Film Quarterly. Salisbury State University, Salisbury, MD. Premiere. New York. The serious/popular film journal that finally won the acceptance of advertisers. Quarterly Review ofFilm & Video. Harwood Academic Publishers, Chur, Switzerland. SCREEN. John Logie Baird Centre of the Universities of Glasgow and Strathclyde. Quarterly. Sight and Sound. British Film Institute, London. Monthly. Long edited by Penelope Houston. The BFI's venerable Monthly Film Bulletin was folded into Sight and Sound in the early 1990s. Velvet Light Trap. University of Texas Press. Austin, TX. Semiannual. Wide Angle. Ohio University School of Film. Published by Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, MD.
P a r t Two: Information
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13.
DATABASES
CD-ROMs Microsoft Cinemania. Baseline, Roger Ebert, Pauline Kael, Ephraim Katz, Leonard Maltin, James Monaco, et al. CD-ROM. Redmond, WA: Microsoft Electronic Publishing, 199297. The combination of data from Maltin, Katz, and The Encyclopedia ofFilm made this the best single CD-ROM reference source for film enthusiasts. Out of print. The Motion Picture Guide. James Pallot and Jo Imeson, eds. New York: CineBooks, 1992-97. CD-ROM, Annual. Lengthy synopses and credits for more than 30,000 films based on the original 20-volume print edition of the mid-1980s founded by Jay Robert Nash and Stanley Ralph Ross. No multimedia. Annual updates in print form are also available. Much of the material on the disc is available on the Web at WWW.TVGuide.com. Out of print. Blockbuster Entertainment Guide to Movies & Videos, second edition. Various contributors. Portland, OR: Creative Multimedia, Inc., 1996. CD-ROM. After Cinemania and the Motion Picture Guide, perhaps the most useful disc was this widely distributed promotional publication for the video store chain, with 23,000 reviews and 10,000 biographies and filmographies gathered from various sources. Out of print. Lexikon des internationalenfilms.Katholischen Institiit for Medieninformation and the Katholischen Filmkommission fur Deutschland. Munich: Systhema, 1995. ONLINE Baseline. A subscription service for professionals in the industry, Baseline carries extensive information on more than 70,000 historical films and television programs, 15,000 companies, 700,000 filmmakers, actors, and technicians, and 5,000 films and television programs in production, news, and other information. The service is available through most major film libraries and directly to thousands of professional subscribers. Parts of Baseline are carried on Nexis. I founded the company in 1982 and left in 1992 to found UNET to concentrate on software and consumer services. In 1999 the Baseline was purchased by BIG Entertainment, operator of several film-related websites. CineGraph. The online version of Hans-Michael Bock's magnum opus is available at WWW.CineGraph.de. Bock founded CineGraph in the early 1980s to serve as a continuing, definitive encyclopedia of German film. Since 1984 more than 30 sections of CineGraph - Lexikon zum deutschsprachigen Film have been published in looseleaf foimat by editions text + kritik of Munich. For the last several years the work of CineGraph has been supported by the department of cultural affairs of the city of Hamburg. The organization publishes other reference works, operates conferences, and maintains additional databases relating to German-language cinema. It is one of the largest film databases in the world. Internet Movie Database. WWW.IMDB.com. The IMDB is one of the great success stories of the Worldwide Web. Begun as a set of lists in 1990 by Col Needham in London and others, die database started to take off when it was mounted on the Web at Cardiff University (Wales) in 1993. The database is maintained by hundreds of contributors and scores of editors worldwide. The data is surprisingly accurate, considering the volunteer basis of the enterprise. In 1996 the IMDB became a commercial business, accepting advertising. In 1998 it was acquired by Amazon. Other Internet sources of information are listed o n the website for How To Read a Film: vVWVV.ReadFilm.com.
644
Index
Apple 513, 521, 334 555, 577 68 599 584 533, 548, 586, 590, 593,
Topic Index
597,599
Argentina Arpanet Arriflex art 550, 96,
22
and technology 311 380 106 242 477, 557, 590, 599
Artists M a n a g e m e n t G r o u p Aspect Ratio A T & T 442, Home Audimeter 470, 600 576 582, 586, 377 379 582 589
A
Aaton 145
577
344-345, 353, 367, 369, 413, 499, 600, 614, 616, 637
abstraction 25, 30 Academy aperture Academy Awards Action-Adventure Actor's Studio Adobe ADR Africa 101 579
B
B m o v i e s 238, B a b y Bells 477 599 475 643 Barnes & Noble B a s e b a l l 370, B a s e l i n e 638, BBC BBS 260, 382
107-108,184
593, 596, 600
360-361
advertising
A f r i c a n - A m e r i c a n film see Black film A l l e n & C o . 243, Altair8800 AM 585 643 583 588 239
464, 588
Amazon
Black sitcoms
American Film Marketing Association American International Pictures Company 572 350 112 282 American Mutoscope and Biograph see also Biograph American Zoetrope anamorphic animation answer, the AOL 108, 134 565 249 110, Angry Young M e n
579-580, 598
244 638 279
B l a x p l o i t a t i o n 343, block booking Blockbuster Bolivia Bookman b o x office Brazil 333 587 334 531 383, 575,
589,
593,
595
Anti-trust ruling
554, 599
576
597-598
Topic Index
broadcasting Broadway browser B - S k y - B 476, B u e n a Vista 575 554 592, 239 600 276 436 CineGraph Cinema Novo 643 339, 333 97 581 580 576 574 571 422 321, 184, 379
645
cinema du papa
B u d d y f i l m 270,
CAA cable
258
249 383, 313, 441, 347, 458, 360 466, 469,
579 257
Cine-structuralism
c a b l e t e l e v i s i o n 77, Cahiers du Cinema camera 86 73 72 385, c a m e r a lucida camera obscura camera-stylo Canada 334 502,
C a n a l P l u s 259, C a n n e s festival
578, 600
Cannon Canon Carolco cartoon CB 80 253
Capital Cities B r o a d c a s t i n g 253 438 364 Carterfone decision Cathode Ray Tube
composition (shot)
585 C B S 130, 254, 256,436,448,452,456, 468, 472, 476, 479, 485, 487, 520, 574, 577, 589-590, 595, 601 C C D 84, 453 C D 454-455, 524, 537, 589 C D - R O M 101,459, 525, 528, 537, 552, 590, 594
Ceefax celebrity censorship Channel 3 Channel 5 Chariot 263 343 123 550 264 439 279 502 589 453 598 cellular broadcasting
449-450
lossy a n d n o n l o s s y
C o r p o r a t i o n for Public B r o a d c a s t i n g C r e d i t L y o n n a i s 243, Criterion criticism CRT Cuba Cubism 590 22 588 334 42 255, 259, 282,
520
C-SPAN
cultural imperialism
374,
C h a n n e l 4 375,
c h a r g e - c o u p l e d d e v i c e 84, C h a s e film Chemtone Chile China chips 334 380 448 140 638 593
D
Dada 25 100, 531, 380 85 192 250 570 533 Daguerreotype Data Discman Denmark 292, d e p t h of f i e l d D e s i l u 239,
depth perception
646
Index
Detective genre Deutsche Telekom Dialog digital 550 86 365, 457 148, 452, 317, 457, 457 600 599 112, diaphragm 577 597, 600 ESPN Essanay E x c i t e 557, exploitation Expressionism German 588 234 52 600 239 400 292, 395
E s t r a n g e m e n t Effect
versus analog
539
F
fade fax 225
461, 480, 505, 507-515, 559 591 F C C 457, 464-465, 471-472, 503, 574, 576, 582-584, 589, 593-594, 601
f a m i l y life fiber film and the novel gauge 112 102 112 229 637 112 100 573 229 optics 442 380, 589 Fifth G e n e r a t i o n
575
Dolby 123, 128, 129 435 275 256, 594, 596, 600 film Effect dot matrix
stock
D r e a m w o r k s S K G 254,
d ' a r t 242,
475 D S D 458 D S P 528 D S S 472, 594 D V 317 D V D 249, 456, 528, 530, 595, 597, 599
D V D - V i d e o 383, Dynabook 533, 458, 535 315, 339 532, 534, 598 Dziga-Vertov Group
Film Noir
297, 299-300, 303-304, 314, 326-327, 348, 370, 497, 578, 589
291 380 584, 528 213 86 185 400 593 214
Film Society (London) Finland Fin-Syn rule floppy disk FM Foley artist follow focus
Firesign Theatre
E
E a l i n g S t u d i o s 572, Eastman Kodak 101, 577 105, 121, 558 132 572 445 430 118, 579 234, 583,
593
Eastmancolor ECN 119,
600
129
110, 159, 238, 251, 253, 255, 257, 365, 372, 467, 499, 573, 588, 590-591, 593594, 600
557 239, film 242, 358 34 139 322 259, 282, 286, 294-
electromagnetic spectrum electronic a n d print media Elstree email EMI 593 595
252
104 52 578
G
gamma Gaumont 120 300, 286 314, 348, 575 242, G a n g s t e r 279,
Topic I n d e x
Gaumont-British 242 590 573 Imax 102 India Ponzo 157 194 449 546 film 567 352 601 601
647
370-371
343, 352-353, 361 291-292, 395 G e r m a n y 233, 242, 247, 282, 291-292, 340, 362, 380
German Expressionism 137 326, 361, 520 375, 589 108
glass s h o t s
Institut des Hautes Etudes Cinematographiques Integrated Circuit I n t e l 584, Internet 588 452 440, 455, 553, 286, 500, 551, 555, 368, 438, i n t e r l a c i n g 449, 577
G o l d c r e s t F i l m s 260, Golden M e a n
445-446
H
halftones HBO HDTV 431, 433, 277 571 H a y s Office
254, 355, 382, 474, 585, 589 94, 108, 144, 456, 458, 593-594, 599
55 352 147 360
J
James Bond Japan 309, 358, 336 456 490 581 J a p a n Victor C o r p o r a t i o n Jiggly S h o w s JPEG 529
Hip-Hop
237, 241-243, 253, 262, 282, 294, 297, 301, 303, 343, 363, 370, 383, 573, 577
Grammar 172 465 380 575 281, 108 258 578
K
K.M.C.D. Syndicate Kalem Kern 234 470, 574 98 573 130 K D K A 463, 572
Holmes, Sherlock see Sherlock Holmes Home Theatre Hong Kong H o r r o r 300, Committee Hungary 331 Hypergonar hyphenates 337,
Kenworthy snorkel K e y s t o n e K o p s 288, Kinepolis Kinescope Kinetograph Kinetophone Kinetoscope knockoff 486 148 450 75, 76, 233
H o u s e U n - A m e r i c a n Activities
571
I
I B M 159,458, 513, 520, 544, 551, 580, 582, 584, 588, 591 I C M 258
Icon, Index, a n d S y m b o l Iconoscope icons 366 A m b i g u o u s Trident Miiller-Lyer Necker Cube optical 153, 194 154 194 154 Illusions 450 164
L
Ladd C o m p a n y language system laserdisc 587 157
648
Index
Lexicon Lighting 520 23 200 197 199 fill 353 263 574 MMCD 531 137, 446 445 254, 238 216 402 523 234, 573 264 141
Liberal Arts
Hollywood key and Lion's Gate Little M a r y Livent Lorimar Louma LP 98, 589 234 351 557 599 252 103
L o n d o n Film Society
579
LPTV Lubin
MP3
MPEG MPPA
M
Macintosh 435, 513, 80 491 521, 590 M a c r o z o o m lens Magic Lantern Magnascope Maltese Cross Martial Arts m a t c h cut Matsushita mattes Mavica MCA 73 109 92 343 423 219 made-for-television movie
MSNBC MTM
494 M T V 37, 55, 218, 382, 466, 475, 589 m u l t i m e d i a 234, 518, 525, 534-542
multiple exposure multiplexes muses 258 459 multiplexing waves 196
Marxist criticism
traveling
N
NAPLPS NBC 551, 553 577 N a t i o n a l F i l m B o a r d of C a n a d a
595 M C I 597
media print a n d electronic recording Mercury metonymy Metromedia Mexico MGM 333 593 462 167 590, 598 26 430
159, 436, 470, 472, 476, 494, 500, 544, 556, 574, 579, 588, 590, 596-597 N e o r e a l i s m 282, 301-302, 399, 406, 408, 578
Netherlands Netscape 556, 340, Neue Kino 362 595, 380, 239, 282, 599 584 341, 253, 310, 380 583, 313, 594 347, 581
New German Cinema N e w Line C i n e m a new media New Wave New World N e w York 522, 552, 586, 588, 518 96, 230, 239
159, 238, 246, 250, 307, 479, 574, 583-585, 591-592, 596, 598, 600
442 513, 582 256,
microphone Microsoft
42, 232-234, 243-244, 254, 289, 298, 308, 348, 354, 359, 373, 431, 470, 480-481, 484-485, 497, 510, 545, 574, 577
638 638 467
N e w York Film Festival News Corp Newspapers Newton NeXT NHK 533 597 370, 179 96 587, 600
550-551, 589-590
254,
456
Topic Index
Nickelodeon Nintendo Nostalgia NYU 591 film 343, 369 492, 584 234 506 Prodigy
649
551-552, 591
589 575 260, 382 239,
N i e l s e n r a t i n g s 467,
Novel-for-Television
0
Olivetti opticals Oracle O r i o n 252, outtakes 600 142 550 586, 600 593, 124 598
a
Quadraphonic quantization Qube 526 QuickTime 457, 585 520
orthochromatic
530-531, 593
15, 548, 126 595
P
pan and scan Panavision Paramount 109, 112, panchromatic 142 184 124 238, 246, 255, 257, 249 476,
243-244
502
R
race radio 266 86 rack focus
R a d i o C o r p o r a t i o n of A m e r i c a s e e R C A
590
502 55
30 590 530 176 262 290, 407 499 138
101,
pixillation
Pocket Books Poetic Realism Poland 330 586 Polavision Polygram Poly vision Pong Porn 585 343
reality-based p r o g r a m m i n g rear projection recording 560 media systems remakes remotes 358 460 26 70
526-527
246 456 250
R e p u b l i c 238, 133 film 73, 586 584 430 230 571 resolution Revue RISC Road roll roses 594 film 208 343,
211
Praxinoscope P r e s t e l 550,
650
Index
rosophobia Russia 193 293, 332 storage technology storyboard Structuralism studio system 156 458 539 131 417 246 344 528, 543
242,
S u m m e r of L o v e S u n d a n c e festival superstation Sweden sweeps 351symbols 259, 492 342 471 167 420 366 478 292,
370-371
311, 329, 380 582
594
scandal
Savoy Pictures Entertainment S c i e n c e F i c t i o n 305, Screen Actors Guild Screwball C o m e d y Seagram 595 search engines Sega Selig 592 234
S e c u r e Digital M u s i c Initiative
T
Talbottype 570 482 110, 112 110 600 477, 117, 576, 578
64, 417-423
358
sequelmania
s e x 278-279
and cinema s e x u a l p o l i t i c s 270, Sherlock Holmes shot composition Showscan signs 94, 114, 443 595 584 590, 597 579, 101, 462 117
Techniscope T e l e c o m Italia
T e l e c o m m u n i c a t i o n s A c t of 1 9 9 6 466,
596
t e l e g r a p h 442, telegraphone telephone Teletel 75, telepresence 552 319, 465, 575, 493 577, 580 599 502 502 482 468 51 313, 332, 584 444, 572 444 544, 546, 597 571
152,366,518
S i l v e r K i n g 257,
128, 255, 451, 456, 458-459, 530, 533, 578, 584, 590-593, 597
212 214 parallel a n d contrapuntal THX synchronous and asynchronous
sound
G o l d e n A g e 471, programming
128, 148
124
502, 504
283, 423
Soviet U n i o n see Russia Special Effects s p i n o f f s 486, sprezzatura Star TV stars 263 97, 130, 100, 132 580 586 Steadicam Steenbeck stillies 549 594 565
3-D
488
Thrillers THX s o u n d
Stereophonic
591
Topic Index
tone 122 239, 590 206 140 209 445 138, Vista Vision Visual density Vitagraph Vitaphone Vitarama 233, 574 110 530, 536, 592 112
114-115
242, 572
versus zooming traveling m a t t e Trinitron T r i S t a r 252, t r o p e 64, TV G u i d e TVC 451 254, 170 591, 599 436,
Tri-Ergon process
125,245,574
589, 592
Voyager C o m p a n y
w
War Warner
123
563
352 238, 241, 245-246, 248, 250, 252, 299-300, 500, 503, 573, 580, 582-583, 586, 592, 597, 601
see also Time W a r n e r 446
Wave machanics wavelength WB, The webcam WebTV Well, t h e Western 445 574 544 597 591 59, 299, 184
u
U. K. 242-243, 247, 259, 279, 281-282, 286, 291, 294, 310, 313, 322, 325, 360, 375 U F A 130, 242, 573
Underground United Artists 319 177 Understanding the Image
467
W E A F 470,
305, 470,
588, 592
U n i v e r s a l 235, UPN
467
257, 476, 557
USA Networks
384,
551,
553,
558,
592-
593, 598
Worldcom WTBS 478 598
X
Xerox 581, 588 521, 535 Xerox PARC
V H S 455-456
V i a c o m 255, video 381 545 145 524, 587 477 455, 580 video games videoassist v i d e o d i s c 454, 257,
Y
Yahoo 557 332 Yugoslavia
see laserdisc Video-on-Demand videotap videotape videotext vidicon Vinyl 70 549 538 547 145 116, 551 450 580 143,
z
Zeiss zip p a n zoom 84
173
75, 570 206 85, 201
Z o e t r o p e 73,
versus track
Village Voice, T h e virtual furniture virtual publishing Virtual Reality Visicalc 588
543-550
fully i m m e r s i v e
Index
Arnheim, Rudolf 183, 396398, 49 307 579 576
People Index
Astaire, Fred 208, 266, 299300, Astruc, Alexandre 322, 385, 409, Attenborough, Richard Aubier, Pascal Auer, Mischa 339 195 339 108 Aubrey, James 474, 485 A u g u s t , Bille 3 8 0 Aurenche, Jean Autry, Gene Axel, Gabriel 599 380 318 318 316 Autant-Lara, Claude 376
Axelrod, George
A
A d o r n o , T h e o d o r W. 34, 4 1 6 Affleck, B e n 3 7 1 , 3 7 9 Agee, James 422 A l H a z e n 72, 91 Alberini, Filoteo 233, 286 Albers, Josef 25, 27 Alberti, L e o n Battista Aldrich, Robert Alexander, Jason A l l e n Jr, H e r b e r t Allen, Fred 461 Allen, Gracie 461 Allen, Paul 2 5 6 - 2 5 7 , Allen, Steve 481 Allen, W o o d y 117, 202, 355, 359 Almodovar, Pedro 584, 593 329 481 322 556 394 186, 328 380 Altman, Robert 84, 128, 219, 306, 353, 357, Amico, Gianni 586 304 513 254 570
B
Bacall, L a u r e n Bach, Steven 296 252 575 Baird, J o h n Logie 502, Balcon, Michael Bancroft, A n n e Barber, Virginia Barber, Will 5 7 2 Bardeen, John 446 504 274 57 35 B a r n o u w , Erik 470, Barrymore, Drew Bart, Peter 252 419 Barthelme, Donald Barthes, Roland Basinger, K i m Basset, Angela Bataille, Sylvia Baudot, Emile Baxter, A n n 577 346 370
301 579
Antonioni, Michelangelo 95, 119, 168, 188, 203, 217, 326, Apted, Michael Arago, Francois Arbuckle, Fatty Aristotle 28 599 360 39 277 39
Bazin, A n d r e 173, 203, 313, 406409, Beatles, T h e 59, 464, 548 Beatty, W a r r e n 360, 364 Beckett, Samuel 25, 4 2 8 Begelman, David 251, 586 Beineix, Jean-Jacques Belasco, David 4 9 379
Archer, Frederick Scott Armat, Thomas 91, 232 A r m s t r o n g , C. M i c h a e l A r m s t r o n g , Gillian A r n a z Jr, D e s i 580 Arnaz, Desi 4 8 3
Bell, A l e x a n d e r G r a h a m 7 5 , 159, 4 4 3 , 5 7 1 Bellocchio, M a r c o Bellour, R a y m o n d Belson, Jordan 521 328 422 317
P e o p l e Index
Benigni, Roberto 254, Benjamin, Robert 252 347 380381 Broccoli, Albert Brodkin, Herbert Brooks, Albert 358 484 595
653
B e n j a m i n , W a l t e r 34, 2 6 1 , 4 1 6 Benton, Robert 2 7 1 , 304, Beresford, Bruce B e r g , Jeff 258 270 347 355, Bergen, Candice 335
B r o n f m a n Jr, E d g a r 2 5 6 , 462 B r o o k s , J a m e s L. 3 6 6
Brooks, Mel 356, 388, 481 Brooks, Richard (actor) Brown, Garrett 97, 99, B r o w n , H. R a p 506 323 Brownlow, Kevin 287, 296 576 594 Bums, Edward 370 497 354 590 Brooks, Richard (director)
Bergman, I n g m a r 51, 9 1 , 98, 118, 164167, 204, 292, 307, 311, 329,
B u n u e l , Luis 173, 2 9 1 , 333 Burns, George 461, 596 Burns, K e n 501, 592 Burton, Richard Burton, Tim 364 47 521 585 Busch, Frederick 329 Bush, Vannevar Bushnell, Nolan Buzzi, R u t h 486 346
Berkeley, Busby 214, 297, 299, 578 B e r l u s c o n i , Silvio 2 6 0 , 3 8 0 , 502, Berners-Lee, Tim 555, 592 Bernstein, William 252 Berto, Juliet 171, 4 1 3 Bertolucci, Bernardo 327, Bertucelli, Jean-Louis Besson, Luc 362, Bird, Stewart Birkin, J a n e 358 318 204 373 134 250 Bettetini, Gianfranco 338 422 378-379
c
Caesar, Sid 4 7 8 , 4 8 1 , 5 7 9 Cage, J o h n Calley, J o h n 366 Campion, Jane Candy, J o h n 589 379 381 131 576-577 308 369 25 597 41, 142, 362363, 365
B l a c k t o n , J. S t u a r t 2 3 3 , 5 7 2 270
Cameron, James
B l u h d o m , Charles Bock, Hans-Michael Bogdanovich, Peter Bohlen, Anne Bombyk, David Boorman, John Boorstin, Daniel Bost, Pierre 339 358
Bochco, Steven 305, 494, 498, 638 347 Bogart, H u m p h r e y 265, 296
Capra, Frank 280, 303, Cardinale, Claudia Came, Judy Carney, Art Carrey, J i m 486 304 365 364 637
Carson, J o h n n y 4 8 1 , 500, 581, 593 Carvey, D a n a Cawkwell, Tim 592 580 Chan, Jackie 299 Cassavetes, J o h n 319, 353, 592 Chabrol, Claude 169, 313, 316 380 304 289 202 Chandler, R a y m o n d 381
Bow, Clara 270, 273, 275 Brackett, Charles Brackett, Leigh 297
Chaplin, Charles 238, 2 6 3 - 2 6 4 , Charpentier, Constance Marie Chayefsky, Paddy 482, ChenKaige 381 356 108 331 252 324 Chopra, Joyce 580
B r a t t a i n , W. H. 4 4 6 Brecht, Bertolt 49, 415 Breen, Joseph Bresson, Robert Bricklin, D a n B r i d g e s Jeff Bridges, J a m e s 279 310 187
654
Index
Clair, R e n e 5 6 , 2 9 1 , 2 9 5 , Clark, K e n n e t h 504 599 178 Clinton, William Jefferson Clouzot, Henri-Georges Cocks, Jay 347 370 575 Davis, Peter 356 32 349 333
Coca, I m o g e n e 478, 4 8 1 , 579 Cocteau, Jean 201, 310 Coen, E t h a n a n d Joel Cohl, Emile 286, Cohn, Harry 239 368 Columbus, Chris Conrad, Frank 573
de Andrade, J o a q u i m Pedro De Antonio, Emile 356, 4 8 4 de Bont, J a n 362 De Niro, Robert 82, 348, 362
de R o c h e m o n t , Louis 281, 576 D e Sica, V i t t o r i o 2 8 2 , Debrie, A n d r e 109 322 72 302 580 Dean, James 266267,
Comingore, Dorothy 193, 196 469 109 40, 128, 589 590 282 214, 256, Coolidge, M a r t h a 102, 356 C o o p e r , M e r i a n C.
DeForest, Lee 125, 445, 572 Delaney, Shelagh Delon, Alain 188 369 266 della Porta, G i o v a n n i Battista DeMille, Cecil B. 2 8 8 Demme, Jonathan DePalma, Brian Deren, Maya Depardieu, Gerard 577 185 333 557, 598 178
308, 342, 348, 350, 492, Cosby, Bill 2 1 4 , 3 6 5 , 4 9 8 , Costa-Gavras, Constantin Costello, Dolores Costner, Kevin 301 306
347348
Cotten, Joseph 193, 301, 304 Coward, Noel 281, 577 Cowie, Peter 243, 637 Cox, Nell 356 477 270 570 585 Crabbe, Buster Crawford, Joan
Cremer, Heinrich Crichton, Michael Crosby, Bing Cukor, George Curtin, Jane Curtiz, Michael 578
D o n a h u e , Phil 4 9 9 Donen, Stanley 208, 307, 579 Doniol-Valcroze, Jacques Donner, Jorn 330 333 373 293 dos Santos, Nelson Pereira Douglas, Michael 364, Dovzhenko, Alexander Drabinsky, Garth 599 293 Dreyer, Carl T h e o d o r 579
Cronkite, Walter 589, 601 Crystal, Billy 2 1 4 , 186 246 489 364
D
d a Vinci, L e o n a r d o 68, 72 D a g u e r r e , Louis 39, 72, 75 Dali, Salvador 173, 2 9 1 , 3 3 3 Daly, Robert A. 6 0 1 Damon, Matt Dann, Michael Dare, Mireille Dassin, Jules 371 474 202 304 178
D u c h a m p , Marcel 42, 50, 291 Duke, Darryl Dunne, Irene D u p o n t , E. A. Dyer, Richard Dylan, Bob 335 291 270 244 265 497 Dulac, Germaine
Dzundza, George
Daves, Delmer 281, 305 David, Jacques-Louis Davis, Bette Davis, G e e n a Davis, J u d y 270 277 336 588
E
E a s t m a n , George 74, 106, 234, Eastwood, Clint Ebbers, Bernard Eberts, Jake Eco, U m b e r t o 260 418 306 598 571 Ebert, Roger 499, 587, 600
P e o p l e Index
Edison, T h o m a s 7 4 - 7 5 , 2 3 2 - 2 3 3 , 277, 286, 436, 4 4 1 , 571 Edwards, Blake 318, 321, 380 Eisenstein, Sergei 403, 407 590 70 362 521 56, 219, 2 9 3 , 3 9 1 , 4 0 1 Fuller, S a m 304, Furthman, Jules 598 297
655
G
Gable, Clark 265 G a n c e , Abel 110, 2 9 1 , 5 8 9 Garbo, Greta 244, 293, 574 Garfield, J o h n Garfunkel, Art Garner, James 304 346 272 488 480 594 320
Eisner, Michael 239, 256, 258, Ellington, D u k e Emmerich, Roland Engelbart, Douglas Ephron, Nora Epstein, J e a n Eustache, Jean 291 338 614
367368
E v e r s o n , W i l l i a m K.
G a t e s , Bill 6 2 , 5 2 2 , 5 8 6 , 6 0 1 Geffen, David 256, Genet, Jean 47 327 363 590 289 589 363
F
Fabrizi, Aldo Falk, Peter 302-303 288 Fairbanks, Douglas 238, 2 6 3 - 2 6 4 , 488 91 422 Faraday, Michael Farber, M a n n y Farrow, Mia
Georges-Picot, Olga Germi, Pietro Gibson, Mel Gish, Lillian Glass, Philip 589
F a r n s w o r t h , P h i l o T. 4 5 0 356 297 133, 204, 311-312, 326, Fassbinder, Rainer W e r n e r 340, Faulkner, William Fedida, S a m 593 F e r g u s o n , Otis 4 2 2 Fessenden, Reginald 445, Feuillade, Louis Field, Sally 2 7 1 Fields, W . C. 300 356 574-575 577 379 593 577 327 Firestone, Cinda Fleming, Victor Fonda, Bridget Ford, Harrison 286 572 552 Fellini, Federico
Glover, D a n n y
Godard, Jean-Luc 62, 83, 85, 171, 173, 181, 187, 191, 202, 207, 209, 218, 339, 400, 4 1 0 - 4 1 6 , 552-553 214 577 358 239 374 511 342 414 325 540 259 314 265-266, 464, 519, 313-314, 541-542, Goldfarb, Lyn
Goldberg, W h o o p i
Goldmark, Peter 456, Goldwyn, Samuel G o n g Li 3 8 1 G o o d i n g Jr, C u b a Goodman, John Goretta, Claude Gormley,Charles Goudy, Frederick Gould, Dave 299 409 340 358 Grade, Lord Lew Graham, Peter Grass, Giinter Gray, Lorraine
Gorin, Jean-Pierre
Ford, J o h n 246, 269, 297, 3 0 5 - 3 0 6 , Ford, M a r y 59, 4 6 4 Forman, Milos Fox, William Francia, Aldo 331 F o r s y t h , Bill 3 7 6 238 334 576
Franju, Georges Franklin, Carl Frankston, Bob Freed, Arthur F r e e m a n Jr, Al Friendly, Fred
Frankenheimer, J o h n 319, 482 384 522 376 299 307 373 579 232
Griffith, D . W. 2 9 , 4 1 , 107, 287, 289, 390, 395, 572 Grosso, S o n n y Guber, Peter Guerra, Ruy 485 255 333 339 310 430
Friese-Greene, William
Gutenberg, Johann
656
Index
Gutierrez Alea, Tomas 334
I
Imeson, Jo 638 269 377378 280 Ince, T h o m a s Irwin, M a y Ivory, J a m e s
H
Hackett, Joan HAL 597 586 380 304 501 Haley, Alex 180
Halliwell, Leslie 5 9 2 , 6 3 7 Hallstrom, Lasse Hampton, Henry Handke, Peter Hanks, Tom Harlin, R e n n y Haskell, Molly 368 362 422 306 325 576 H a m m e t t , Dashiell 342
J
Jackson, Michael Jaglom, Henry James, Henry 571 380 294 362 378 599 590 347
Jancso, Miklos 129, 331 Jarmusch, Jim 370, Jarrico, Paul 598 Jennings, Humphrey Jeunet, Jean-Pierre Jhabvala, Ruth Prawer Jocelyn, Andre Jones, Duane Jutra, Claude 169 345 334
Hawks, Howard 265, 295, 297, H a w n , Goldie 273, 278, 486 Hecht, Ben 575 377 348 328 593 601 Heckerling, A m y Heller, J o s e p h Hellman, Monte Hemmings, David Henry, Buck 344 321 186, 2 7 0 572 178 495
K
Kael, Pauline 422, 638 Kaplan, Nelly Karlson, Phil 338 304 601 638 594 356 380 Karina, A n n a 83, 187, 4 1 2 Karmazin, Mel Katz, E p h r a i m
Henson, Jim 366367, Hepburn, Audrey Hepburn, Katharine H e p w o r t h , Cecil 2 8 6 , Herrmann, Bernard Herskovitz, Marshall Hertz, Heinrich Herzog, Werner Hill, W. E. 154 81, 444 341
Kasdan, Lawrence 216, 361, 589 K a t z e n b e r g , Jeffrey 2 3 9 , 256, 590, K a u f m a n , Philip Kaurismaki, Aki
Hirschfield, A l a n J. 2 5 1 Hitchcock, Alfred 111, 577 128, 159, 169, 311174, 193, 210, 2 1 3 , 2 2 3 , 2 9 5 - 2 9 6 , 312, 318, 422, 575, Hodges, M i k e 178, Hoe, Richard March Holt, Tim 301 347 73 184 431 367
Kay, A l a n
535 348
K a z a n , Elia 2 6 9 , 3 0 8 , 5 7 9 Kazantzakis, Nikos Keaton, Buster 44, 289, 429 Keaton, Diane 202, 356 Keats, J o h n 44 579 250, 367 596 583, 588, 591592, Kelley, D a v i d E. 5 0 0 Kelly, G e n e 3 0 7 , Kelly, G r a c e Kerkorian, 596 Kermit the Frog 212 Kirk
Hoffman, Dustin 271, 345346, Hopper, Dennis Horner, William Hoskins, Bob Howard, Ron
Hudson, William
Hughes, H o w a r d 239, 250, 295, Hughes, J o h n 216, Huillet, Daniele Hunt, Helen 366 362 306 Hurd, Gale A n n H y m a n , Eliot 340
Kleine, George
People Index
Kopple, Barbara 3 5 6 - 3 5 7 , Korty, J o h n Kotcheff, Ted 356 334 581 396400 371 Lloyd, Harold 289 270 204 513
657
Loach, K e n 325, 582 Lombard, Carole Long, Nia 374 323 Longarini, Renee Losey, J o s e p h Loy, M y r n a
Kubrick, Stanley 33, 56, 8 3 , 87, 89, 99, 129, 138, 2 0 3 , 2 0 8 , 307, 3 2 3 , 354, 597, 6 0 0 Kuleshov, Lev 293, 4 0 1 , 573 Kurosawa, Akira 309, 336
Lubitsch, Ernst 244, 368, 576 Lucas, George 128, 216, 351, 364, 600 Lumet, Sidney 122, 270, 319, 4 8 2 38, 91, 232 Lumiere, A u g u s t e a n d Louis
L
L'Herbier, M a r c e l Lacan, Jacques L a d d Jr, A l a n 252 238-239 338 577 418
L a e m m l e , Carl 2 3 5 , Lafont, B e r n a d e t t e Lake, Veronica Landau, Saul Landis, J o h n 297 356 590
M
MacArthur, Charles Macdonald, Dwight MacDowell, Andie MacLaine, Shirley 575 422 372 273
Lang, Fritz 2 4 4 , 2 9 2 , 304, Langdon, Harry Langlois, Henri Lasky, Jesse 2 3 8 Lavalou, Jean-Marie Law, Phyllida 377 320 Leacock, Richard Leary, T i m o t h y Lee, A n g 270 363 363 98 289 576
574
Malick, Terrence 119, 584 Malone, John 476, Maltin, Leonard Mamoulian, Rouben Mander, Jerry 509 306 637
Lear, N o r m a n 4 8 8 , 4 9 8 , 596
Lee, Spike 2 6 7 , 365, 3 7 1 - 3 7 2 , 376, Leger, F e r n a n d 56, 61 Lehman, Ernest Leigh, J a n e t Leigh, M i k e 180 376 298 313
M a n n , Michael 304, 497 Marconi, Guglielmo 436, 444, Marey, Etienne Jules 53, 73 Marshall, Garry 367 370 300 Marshall, P e n n y 367, Marx Brothers, The Masseron, Alain 98 572
Leroy, M e r v y n 246,
Mastroianni, Marcello 204, 265, 312, 597 M a t u r e , Victor May, Elaine Mayo, Archie 112 346 36 320 371
Lester, R i c h a r d 4 4 , 2 1 4 , 2 1 8 , Levertov, Denise Lewis, Jerry Liebling, A. J. Under, Max 339 559 286 370 Levinson, Barry 366, 370,
Mayer, Carl 2 9 2 Maysles, Albert and David Mazursky, Paul 131, 354, McCarey, Leo 298 252 423 70 McClintick, David McConnell, Frank McCrea, Joel 297
McCorkle, Susannah
658
Index
McDowell, Malcolm McKay, Winsor McLean, Don 573 466 267 366 252 233-234, 201 263, 285, 395, 99 M o y e r s , Bill Muni, Paul 501 248 393394 556, 575 255, 257, 476, 499,
McLuhan, Marshall McTiernan, J o h n Medavoy, Mike Medjuck, Joe 542, 572 331 318 Melies, Georges 535
5 9 0 - 5 9 1 , 594, 600 M u r n a u , F. W . 2 0 3 , 2 0 9 , 2 4 4 , 2 9 0 , 2 9 2 , Murphy, Eddie 364 579 M u r r a y , Bill 3 6 4 , 4 8 9 M u r r o w , E d w a r d R. 5 7 7 , Myers, Mike 364 Muybridge, Eadweard 53, 73, 571
378
N
Nabokov, Vladimir Nancarrow, Conlon Nash, Jay Robert N e c k e r , L. A . N e e d h a m , Col Neeson, Liam 293 575 Neilsen, Asta 154 643 355 587 292 347 489 304 380 583 341 57 638
Metz, Christian 157, 160, 163, 165, 212, 218, 220, 390, 4 1 7 - 4 2 2 , Meurisse, Paul 180 595 489 Meyer, Ron 258, Michaels, L o m e Milius, J o h n Miller, D a v i d Miller, G e o r g e 349 258 379 528 307 465 338 309 339 597 329 274 329 306
Negroponte, Nicholas N e w m a n , David N e w m a n , Laraine Nichetti, Maurizio Nichols, Mike Niepce, Joseph Nolkin, Stacey Norman, Marc Noth, Chris 4 9 7 Noyce, Phillip 335 Nyby, Christian 307,
N e w m a n , Paul 276,
579
0
O'Brien, Margaret O'Connor, Carroll Olivier, L a u r e n c e Olmi, E r m a n n o Ophuls, Marcel 200 510 65 329330 337 310 436
Monaco, James 265, 643 Monroe, Marilyn 270, Montaldo, Giuliano M o n t a n d , Yves 2 6 6 M o n t g o m e r y , R o b e r t 46, 56, 2 1 0 Moore, Demi 274 523 514 301 497 Moore, Gordon 447, M o o r e , M a r y Tyler Moorehead, Agnes Moreau, Jeanne Moriarty, Michael Morita, Akio 578 489 571 271 Morris, Garrett
Ophuls, M a x 203, 209, Ortega y Gasset, Jose Orwell, George Osborne, John Oshima, Nagisa 558 322 336 306
266
P e o p l e Index
P a k u l a , A l a n J. 3 5 6 , Pal, G e o r g e 307 592 599 Prevert, Jacques Price, R i c h a r d P r y or, R i c h a r d 295
659
373 365
Paradzhanov, Sergei
Parain, Brice 412, 4 6 0 Paretti, Giancarlo 2 5 1 , 380, Parillaud, A n n e P a r k s Sr, G o r d o n Passer, I v a n 331 233 378 360 344 Parker, Alan 326,
R
Rabbit, Roger Rafelson, Bob Raft, G e o r g e Ray, M a n 361 347 295 366 309 Radner, Gilda 365, 4 8 9
Pasolini, Pier Paolo 327, 4 2 2 Pater, Walter 24, 29 Pathe, Charles Paul, Les 59, 4 6 4 P a u l , R o b e r t W. 2 3 3 , 2 8 6 P a x t o n , Bill 384 55 306 333 213 Pearlstein, Phillip Peck, Gregory Peckinpah, Sam P e i r c e , C. S. 164 320 333 344 380
Redford, Robert 276, 362, Redgrave, Vanessa Reed, Carol 304 596 356 292 510 581 328
377
Redstone, S u m n e r 255, 257, 476, 591, 594 Reeve, Christopher Reichert, Julia Reimann, Walter Reiner, Rob 367,
Pedro de Andrade, J o a q u i m
Penn, A r t h u r 306, 319, 344, 482 Pennebaker, Donn Peregini, Frank 271 178
Reiner, Carl 478, 481 Reisz, Karel 2 1 4 , 322, R e j l a n d e r , O s c a r G. 4 1 Renoir, J e a n 190, 2 9 4 2 9 5 , 73 577 Resnais, Alain 313, 317, Reynaud, Emile Rice, J o h n 288 280 320 372 513 322 576 355 319-320
Pereira dos Santos, Nelson Perkins, A n t h o n y Peters, J o n Petri, Elio 255 329 349 338 Perry, F r a n k a n d E l e a n o r Petersen, Wolfgang 362, Pfeiffer, M i c h e l l e Pialat, M a u r i c e Piggy, M i s s 367 323 388 181
366
Rich, Claude
Rich, M a t t y 267, Richards, Michael Richardson, Tony Richter, H a n s Risi, N e l o 329 56 Riefenstahl, Leni Ritchie, Michael
Pirandello, Luigi 49, 4 8 8 Pisier, M a r i e - F r a n c e Pitts, Zasu Plumb, Eve 290 375 330 356 329 572 422 Pleskow, Eric 2 5 2 Polanski, R o m a n 298, Pollack, S y d n e y P o n t e c o r v o , Gillo P o s t m a n , Neil Potter, D e n n i s 512 318 572 378
Ritt, M a r t i n 2 7 1 , 3 1 9 Rivette, Jacques 313, 317 Roach, Hal 289 357 376 370 Robbe-Grillet, Alain 45, 52 Robbins, Tim Robinson, Bruce
Robinson, Henry Peach 41, 49 Robinson, Phil A l d e n Rocha, Glauber Roeg, Nicolas Rogers, Ginger Rogers, Roy 333 299 325 599
660
Index
Rogers, Will 574 91 Semel, Terry 601 Sennett, Mack 287288, 573 Serling, R o d 482 379 358 567 Serreau, Coline Shaffer, D e b o r a h 327
Roseanne 511, 514 Rosi, Francesco 1 8 1 , 2 8 2 , Ross, Herbert 180 638 592 304 244 356 Ross, Stanley Ralph Ross, Steve 250, Rossen, Robert Rothapfel, Roxy Rouch, Jean Russell, K e n Ryan, Meg 321 325 56 368
Shakespeare, William 363, 376, Shaye, Bob 253, 583 Sheinberg, Sid 2 5 6 Shelton, Ron Shepard, Sam Shew, William Shields, B r o o k e S h o l e s , C. L. 4 3 1 Siegel, D o n 59, 304, Signoret, S i m o n e Sillitoe, A l a n 322 587 345 209 307 370 342 46 318 446
Shockley, William
Rothschild, Amalie
Silverman, Fred 474, Simon & Garfunkel Simon, John 422 190 598 278 Simon, Michel
s
Sadoul, Georges Sanjines, Jorge Sarnoff, D a v i d Sarris, A n d r e w Sayles, J o h n Schepisi, Fred 637 334 464 422 Sagan, Carl 135, 597 Sarandon, Susan 273, 277278
Singleton, J o h n 267, 371, 374 Sirk, D o u g l a s 3 0 9 , 3 4 1 Siskel, G e n e 4 9 9 , 5 8 7 , 6 0 0 S j o m a n , Vilgot 3 3 0 , 583 307 Sjostrom, Victor 244, 2 9 2 , Skolimowski, Jerzy Smith, Kevin Smith, Neville 369 370 325 583 335 330
Savalas, Telly 4 8 8 370-371 335 638 265 340 Schaffner, F r a n k l i n 319, 4 8 2 Scheuer, Steven Schickel, Richard
S m i t h , Will 3 6 3 , 382 Smothers Brothers 486487, Snow, Michael 203, 2 1 0 - 2 1 1 , Soderbergh, Steven 370, 109 Solas, H u m b e r t o Solondz, Todd 334 364 351, 372 Solanas, F e r n a n d o 334, 4 2 3 370 342 82, 363 270 117, 256, 594 258,
Schlesinger, J o h n 322, Schlondorff, Volker Schneider, Alan Schneider, R o m y Schrader, Paul 429 119
S o n d h e i m , S t e p h e n 178, 308, 318, 360, 590 271, 308, Soutter, Michel 117, 121, Spielberg, Steven Stallone, Sylvester Stanwyck, Barbara Stapleton, Jean Staypuft m a n Stein, G e r t r u d e Stevens, George 510 366 565 306 574
Scott, G e o r g e C. 3 2 4 , 4 8 5 Scott, Ridley 3 2 6 , 3 6 0 , Scott, Sir W a l t e r 4 7 Scott, T o n y 360, 3 6 2 Seberg, J e a n 314, Segal, G e o r g e 184 370 513 Seidelman, Susan 317
Stewart, J i m m y 212, 598 Stiller, M a u r i t z 2 4 4 , 2 9 2 , Stone, Sharon 274, 279 Stoppard, Tom 341, 379 Stone, Oliver 282, 3 7 1 , 373
Seinfeld, J e r r y 2 1 4 ,
People Index
Storaro, Vittorio Strasberg, Lee 360 340 Uys, Jamie 381
579
V
Valentino, Rudolph 244, 264, Van Peebles, Mario 344, Van Sant, Gus 542 Varda, A g n e s Veidt, C o n r a d Venturi, Robert 342 178 318 292 62 380 362 574 371 Van Peebles, Melvin 343, 371 574
Verhoeven, Michael Verhoeven, Paul 360, Vidor, King 2 6 9 , 2 9 1 181, 339 Vigo, J e a n 2 9 5 , 3 9 9
T
Tacchella, J e a n - C h a r l e s Talbot, W i l l i a m H e n r y F o x 39, 4 7 , 7 3 Tally, T h o m a s L . 2 3 3 , 5 7 2 Tanner, Alain 3 4 2 - 3 4 3 , 559, Tarkovsky, A n d r e i Tati, J a c q u e s 310 339 329 Tavernier, B e r t r a n d Taylor, E l i z a b e t h Taylor, R o d 528 376 336 339 347, 376, 593, 596 377 265 588 590 Temple, Julien T h o m a s , Pascal 332 583
Visconti, L u c h i n o 119, 282, 302, Vitti, M o n i c a 1 6 8 , 1 7 0 , 1 8 8 , 2 0 3 Volonte, Gian Maria v o n Sternberg, Josef v o n Stroheim, Erich vonSydow, Max 181 297 290
327
1 6 7 - 1 7 5 , 266, 340
330-331
v o n Trotta, M a r g a r e t h e
w
Walbrook, Anton Waller, Fred Walsh, Raoul Wang, Wayne Warhol, Andy 110 304 468 270 45 292 422 256 571 209
Teshigahara, Hiroshi Thompson, Emma Thompson, Sophie Thomson, David Thulin, Ingrid 118
Walters, Barbara
Tinker, G r a n t 4 7 4 , 4 9 4 , T o m l i n , Lily 4 8 6 Tornatore, Giuseppe Totter, A u d r e y Towne, Robert Tracy, S p e n c e r Troell, J a n 56 298 371 186 375
Tisch, L a w r e n c e 2 5 6 , 4 7 6 ,
Wayans, K e e n e n Ivory 365, 372, 375 305 W e a v e r J r , S y l v e s t e r L. 4 7 2 Webb, Jack 304, 483, 497, Weill, C l a u d i a 3 5 6 - 3 5 7 , Weir, Peter 382, 469, 475, 335 577 590 Weinstein, Bob and Harvey 579 254
Travolta, J o h n 3 4 6 - 3 4 7 , 489, 4 9 6 330-331 Truffaut, Francois 224, 310, 3 1 3 , 339, 425, 519, 542, 580, Turner, K a t h l e e n Turner, Ted 478, 584, 591, Turpin, Gerry 142 350 593-595
496
Welles, O r s o n 90, 193, 195196, 215, 223, 300, 304, 462, 492, Wells, F r a n k 2 5 6 , Wenders, Wim West, M a e 270, Wertmuller, Lina 594 328 300 158 586 Wellman, William 298, 575 342
u
U l l m a n n , Liv 9 8 , 1 6 4 - 1 6 6 , 2 0 4 , 2 6 6 , 331 330-
Westphal,Laura
662
Index
W h i t e , E. B . 5 6 3 Whitney, John 136, 520-521 574 Widerberg, Bo 330 Wiene, Robert 2 9 1 - 2 9 2 , Wilder, Billy 2 4 4 , 2 9 8 W i l l i a m s III, C l a r e n c e Williams, Cynda Williams, J o h n 384 215 375
Williams, R a y m o n d 22, 25, 506, 560 Williams, Robin 354, 365, 367 Willingham, Calder 344 Willis, B r u c e 3 6 3 , 3 8 2 Winkler, Angela 341 Winkler, Henry 496 Winn, Marie Wise, Robert 508 307 Winter, Robert 530, 592 Wiseman, Frederick 321, 323, 583 Wolf, Dick 3 0 5 , 4 9 7 Wollen, Peter 164, 4 2 2 Woo, John 380 486 522 Wood, Michael 417 Worley, J o a n n Wozniak, Stephen Wyatt, Jane 509 578
Y
Yanne, Jean 202 Y a r b u s , A l f r e d L. 1 5 6 Yates, P e t e r 3 2 5 Yossarian 601 Young, Freddie 122, 6 0 0 Young, Robert 509
z
Zanussi, Krzysztof Zapf, H e r m a n n Zappa, Frank 144 330 540
Zavattini, Cesare 302, 399 Zecca, F e r d i n a n d 2 8 6 Zelda, A n n 3 2 5 Zemeckis, Robert 361, 364 Zhang Yimou Zukor, Adolph 381 238-239 Zinnemann, Fred 306 Zwick, E d w a r d 4 9 5 Z w o r y k i n , V l a d i m i r K. 4 5 0
Title Index
Armageddon 363 Perception Picture, 183 The 3 9 1 , 5 7 3
663
Title Index
,4s Gccrf a s 7f Geft 3 6 6 "As W e M a y T h i n k " Asphalt Jungle, The A M Mffiew cft< Monde A M Revoir, Austin 600 Autumn Arafon Afternoon, 367 An 310 les enfants Powers: 521 559 318 Me 275, 304
B
Back and Forth 205, 335 352, 364 382 323 56, 6 1 , 574 33, 83, 87, 363 The 334 593 275 The 324 327 341 56 578 The 503
Back to the Future Ballet Barry Mecanique Lyndon Barbarians Batman Batman Battle Baywatch
A
Accattone Accident After Hours 327 323 348 The 348349 341 577 271, 348 of God 56, 407, 344
of Chile, 490,
Age of Innocence, Aguirre, Alexander Alice's Alien Aliens Amadeus Amarcord American American American American American American Amistad Amusing the Wrath Nevsky
Beauty Beavis
and the Beast and Butthead 117 Room, 364 Revolution Alexanderplatz
Alice Doesn't
Restaurant 358
All in the Family 332 326 Dream Family, Friend, Graffiti Roulette 353
Big Chill, %
The
i f o r t , 77ie 3 0 4 The
in Paris, An
B i # S/eep, T f e 2 6 5 , 2 9 6 - 2 9 7 , 3 0 4 , B/7/y W a r 3 2 2 Bz'rds, 7 7 K 3 1 8 Birth of a Nation, The 409 The 354 589
i w f f l ' ' Andy Aa/yz<? T f e Andrei Animal Annie Antonio Apartment, Apocalypse Applause Apprenticeship Apw m ' % y Roublev House Hall
462, 364
109, 236, 2 6 8 ,
573
Ourselves
to Death 326
" B i r t h of a N e w A v a n t G a r d e : L a C a m e r a Stylo, T h e " Blackboard Blackmail Blade Runner 575 326327, Jungle,
A w d f f e S t o p S!& 0 332
355, 586
B/<'r W i M Projert, 77ie 3 8 4 Blow-Up Blue Angel 326, 328, 582 575 354 70 119
B e * e> C a r o / e> Terf e M f e Boccaccio Bonanza Bonnie B o d y a d Sow/ 3 0 4 503, 581 & Clyde 344, 347,
308, 575
583
664
Index
Born Boudu Bound BoyzN Brain on the Fourth Saved from for Glory the Hood Stoker's of July Drowning 586 371, 374, 592 351 321 335 The 3 6 8 587 371 190, 295 Christo in Paris 3 2 0 d'un ete 3 2 1 , 5 8 1 638 394 The Other Hollywood 365, 375 Dictionary 638 287 etcie
Dracula
Europe: Paradiso
BreakerMorant Breakfast Breakfast Breaking Breathless Brian's Britannia British Broken Buena Buffalo Bug's Bugsy Broadcast Club, Away
at Tiffany's
A Critical 423
552, 638 90, 188, 193, 196, 300, 5 7 7 504 316 5 to 7 3 1 8 582 373 The 3 3 9 Orange, A 99,323 of the Third Kind 352
Kane
A W / W a r , T/ie 5 0 1 , 5 9 2 Civilization Claire's Cleofrom Cleopatra Club 3 4 2 84,353 Clockers Clockwork Clockmaker, Knee
"Close-up View, A" 3 9 1 The 5 7 5 The 3 4 8 The 3 2 6 560 the Getty Center 320 488
c
Cabinet Cabiria Cahiers of Dr. Caligari 236, 573 du Cinema 409,423, 579 574
Conte d'automne Cowte d e printemps Conversation, Cookie's Cop ffocfc 4 9 8 Cosby Show, Fortune
Cape F e a r 3 4 8 Knowledge 430 346 582 bateau 317 356 vonten 270 Cascando Catch-22 Cathy Celebrity
The 1 2 8 , 2 1 4
The 4 7 4 , 4 9 8 , 5 1 1 , 5 1 4
Cosmos Cousin,
CWto C7fc, 77ze 3 0 8 , 3 5 0 C r i m e and Punishment Cn'ft'c, 77ze 3 8 8 332, 375 490 C r o w d , T/je 2 9 1 Current Affair, A 591
Celine et Julie C/iarc 7x Missing Chaplin Chariots Charlie's Chasing Cheyenne Chikimatsu Children 376 of Fire Angels
C7zflH# 1 0 9 , 1 2 4
C r i m e o/Af. L a n ^ e , T/ze 2 9 4 2 9 5
Amy 3 7 1
D
Daguerreotypes Dances Darling with 322 Mddchen 380 318 Wolves 306, 592 >a/ta 4 9 4 , 5 0 2 5 0 3
Monogatari of Paradise
328 The
CfeVrf's P/tfy 3 6 9
Cfa'Ktf 7s N e a r Cfa'Ktf Syndrome,
t o Boo; 3 8 0 DAS Schreckliche Dave 1 8 2 316 181, 327 David and Lisa 3 4 4 The 5 8 9 Day After,
Chinatown Christ
298 at Eboli
Title I n d e x
Day For Night Day the Earth Days of Heaven Deadly Affair, A 27'4 The 292 Tokyo 281 111 Priest 366 A 583 The 333 310 484 42 I'Herbe 313, 425 Stood Still, 335 122 356 The 307 119, 306 Eight Empire Enemy Men 45 205 363 322 499, 588 of the State The 56 Alcatraz 304 au cinema of Cinema, 583 The 408 Out 370371
665
Dead Poets Society Deconstructing Deep Throat Defenders, Dejeunersur Der Reigen Destination
Harry
Tonight
D m ' / z'n JVfzss Joes, 77ze 2 7 4 Dial M for Murder Dz'azy o / a Country Die Hard Director's Dirty Discreet Divorce
F
Face to Face Faces 353 451 313 A 505 330 100 116 306 369, 591 Best 509 341 275, 326 Day Off 370 The 362 368 Fahrenheit Bazwe 3 2 6 Family Fanny Fantastic 382 at War, Voyage The and Alexander 166, 179, 585
327 373
Do the Right
Don j M a n
Do/ce Vz'fa 3 0 9 D o n JCz'ng: On/y z'n America Don't Double Down Downhill D r . Mabuse D r . Strangelove Dracula Dragnet Dragon's Dressed Driving Duellists, Dynasty 575 Dracula 304, 483, 579 Lair to Kill The 502 589 178 336 326 Look Back Indemnity By Law Racer 574 323, 582 380 355 320 299 Doors, B/ze 3 7 1
Bear a n d Desz're 3 5 4 Fear Eats the Soul Bear on Trz'a? 4 9 2 Fellini Satyricon Bern's Bueller's Field of Dreams Bz/Z/z Element, Bz'/ff? 4 2 9 Pz'Zm ACZZ'M# 4 0 1 Bz'/m as A r t 3 9 6 , 5 7 6 Bz'Zm Encyclopedia, Pz'Z/n language: P/Znz Technique Bz'sZ/zzZ of Dollars, Five Easy Pieces B/as/z Gordon Flashdance Fly, The Flying Foolish Forbidden Foreign Forsyte Fortune 307 to Rio 2 9 9 , 5 7 6 290 2 8 1 , 307 296 299 504, 510, 583 Wives Down 274 The 638 of the Cinema 417 A Semiotics 4 0 1 , 574 A 347 477 306
Miss Daisy
E
B.T. 3 0 7 , 3 5 2 , 3 6 1 , 5 8 9 Early Autumn 310 310 310 298 347, 584 B a r / y Spring &zrZy Summer Basy Living Easy Rider Bc/z'pse 1 8 8 E n , Joe 4 2 9 7/2 3 0 8 , 3 2 6 , 5 8 2
Planet The
BaZ Driw/t M a n W o m a n 2 7 0
4 2 n d StreeZ 5 7 6
666
Index
Four Arguments 509 400 Blows, 4 Little Girls Frankenstein "Free Agent" Freedom Friday Fried Friends From FrontPage, Full Metal Funny Funny Face Thing Fresh Prince Green 514 Hell to Texas The Jacket 308 Happened on the Way to the Forum, 306 324 575 The 2 2 4 - 2 2 5 , 3 1 3 , 3 1 5 , 5 8 1 373 575 286 370 247 The 272 363 for the Elimination of Television Hallelujah ffam/er Hammett ffappy Hard Harlan ffarry Hearts Heaven's Day's 269 376 342 Days 4 8 9 Night, A 324, 357 123 356, 588 585 582 County, U.S.A. 373
77e Gor G a m e
Gate 2 5 2 , 592
#e/p.' 3 2 4 77ery V 3 7 6 , High High Noon School 306 321 305, 474, 494, 317, 581 371 589 mon amour Shuffle 368 The 167, 324 593 334 174 321 9S, Street,
G
Gandhi Ganja Gertrud Gigi Gimme Ginger Gforia 307 Shelter & Fred 319 The 323 585 589 577 367 306 The The 3 4 9 , 4 9 2 , Be Crazy, 320 326 357 Germinal Ghostbusters 361, 375-376, and Hess 236 293 182, 335, 364, 366, 5 9 0 589 344345
Hour House
The 2 8 1 , 5 7 8
377-378, 348
I
7 4 m a Fugitive I Love Lucy 7 ' m Gonna 7ce Storm, If... 322 Signifier, Color The 421 328 337 100, The 104 307 7&z'ra 3 0 9 Imaginary In Living In the Name In the Realm In Which The 327 Incredible Incredible Independence Indian Interface, The 4 2 , 2 8 6 , 572 Intervista Intolerance The 326 288 of the Body Here Snatchers The 268 323 576 303, 579 Life 281, 307 365, 372 from a Chain 583 579 372, 375 Gang 248 7 4 m CuriousFeWow 483, 514, The 270
Good Morning,
Good, 77ie B a d , a d 77je L ^ / y , The G o o S/zow, 77ze 3 2 4 Gospel According Graduate, Grand Grapes The Illusion of Wrath, to St. Matthew, 344346 295, 577 The 577
281, 577
362363
Massacre,
Grease 5 8 7 G r e a t T r a m Robbery, Greed 2 9 0 Grey Gardens Groundhog Gunfight Gunfighter, Gunsmoke Day The 488 320 364 306 306
Invasion
It's a Wonderful J
H
ffa/r 331
J a e Austen
in Manhattan
379
Title Index
Jane Jaws B. par Agnes The V. 3 1 8 574 318, 320 Lady Eve, The Lady from Language 298 The 196
667
82, 216, 352, 396, 585 je t'aime 594 380 343 The 270
L a d v z'/z (Vie Lafa? 4 6 , 5 6 , 2 1 0 417 LasZ Emperor, Last of Sheila, 328329 178
2 8 2 , 3 7 1 , 593 119 Stecchino Who Club, Will Be 25 in the Year 2000 313, 581 204, 326
JLG by JLG Job, The Johnny Jonah Jules Juliet Jurassic Joy Luck
Lasf Pz'rtz/re S/zow, 77ze 3 4 7 Las? Tdwao Z'JI P a r a 2 6 8 , 3 2 7 , 5 8 5 Last Temptation Last Waltz, Last Wave, Late Autumn Laze Spring Laugh-In The The of Christ, 348 335 317, 319 310 310 486, 583 305, 485, 497, 500 318 316 413, 541 Citta 317 Own, A 344 284 The 306 380 370 327 vert 344 of Their Tree, The the Factory Gun, Cowboys The 316 4 1 2 , 519 178 201 338 du Louvre 'ill The 348
and Jim
Jw/z'a 2 7 1 of the Spirits Park 135, 307, 352, 354, 363, 593
K
Killing Kind King Fields, of Loving, Kong 576 The 348 The 285 of the Fairies, 294 294, 574 The A 3 6 1 , 375 322
Law and Order Le Bonheur Le Boucher LeGaiSavoir LeMani Le Rayon Leadbelly League Learning Sulla
&'w# of Comedy, Kingdom Kino-Eye Kino-Pravda /&>ja/V 4 8 8 Koyanisqaatsi Kramer Kundun 348
Le Cri/we de M . Lange 5 7 6
vs Kramer
Leaving
L
L . A Lau< 4 9 5 - 4 9 6 LAmourfou LAtalante LAvventura L'Eclisse L'Enfant 326 de Paris 236 339 296 326, 581
terribles
La Cage aux folks L a Chinoise L a Cucaracha La Dolce Vita L a Femme L a Femme L a Guerre
Weapon
363, 591
"La Camera-Stylo" 409 171, 266 117 204, 309, 312, 581 316 378 318
Letter to Jazie 4 1 6 Lz/e 5 8 5 Lz/e azzd Tz'mes of Nicholas Life Is Beautiful Lz/e 0 / a American LifeofOharu, Lights of N.Y. Lz/|)0 371 Lzzz/e D/erer Needs to F/y 3 4 2 Lola Mantes Lolita Lonedale Loneliness Lonely Long 324 Operator, Are the Brave Shot 325 322 The 288 Runner 322 310 The 575 Nickleby, The 134 380-381 Fireman, 309 The 2 8 6 , 5 7 2
L a iVoffc 3 2 6 " L a P o l i t i q u e des a u t e u r s " 4 0 9 La Region LaRonde La Strada Centrale 205, 2 1 1 , 335 579 L a Revwe d Cinema
L a Terra Trema 2 8 2 L a Vze est un roman Lacombe, Lucien L a Vz'fa e be/7a 3 8 0 3 8 1 318, 338
668
Index
Lost Honor Lost World: Lovers, Lucia Lucky The 334 Luciano 327 of Katharina The 299 Park, 328 The 352 Jurassic 318 Blum, The 340341 Monty Moon Moon Morgan Motion Python's Drum Flying 136 320 497 Circus 214, 505
Lost Weekend,
Moonlighting
MoZ/zer a n d Ze WTzore, 77ze 3 3 8 The 638 576 Mr.Arkadin 584 379 Ambersons, Seven, Theories, 370 593 The 576 293294, 575 577 The The The 306 394 196, 301 M r . Hulot's Mrs Brown Mrs. Soffel
M
M.A.S.H. Mad Max Magnificent Magnificent Major Major Malcolm Maltese Film League Falcon,
M w c n / t d o About Muppet Movie, Musketeers My Beautiful My Brilliant My Dinner My Name My Night 359
X 373, 376,
591 318
M a n of Aran Mandabi Manhattan Manhattan Marathon Mamie Marriage Married Marty 336
335336
M a n wz'Zn a Movz'e Camera 117, 202, Murder Man of Maria Woman, 580 Mary 193, 318 Braun, 322
359
316,
583
Mystery
N
Nafo?d Cz'zy, 77ze 3 0 4 Nanook Napoleon Nashville National House Natural Natural, Born Killers The 370, 590 371 331 The 282 377 of the North 109110, Lampoon's 290, 589 Animal House see Animal 574
The
341
McCafte a n a M r s . Mz'/fer 3 0 6 MeaZ 3 2 1 Meatballs Medium Memories Merchant Meshes Miami Midnight Midnight Miracle 587 Cool 2 6 6 , 2 6 9 , 356 334 The 511 340
N e w Wave, Tne 4 0 9 New Fort, New Fort 308, 348 Newsfront Night Night 335 Village A 191 254 354 317 Next Stop, Greenwich and Fog at the Opera, on Elm
M e e Z M e z'n SZ. Lozz/s 2 0 0 of Underdevelopment of Four Seasons, of the Afternoon Vice 3 0 5 , 4 9 7 Cowboy Express of Morgan's 306 The 326 313 576 318 492 Burning Mermaid Times 289, 322 326, 375 Creek, The 298 M e n z'n B/arfc 3 6 3
Nz'ne Zo Fz've 2 7 2 J9S4 590 794Z 352 i900 328, 586 Nixon 2 8 2 , 3 7 1 Norma North Rae 271 221, 102 312, 314, 422, 581
Mzssz'fes o / October,
496497
Title Index
0
Odalisque Oh Lucky On connait On the Town 43 Urn 322 280 318 579 580 382, 384 Nest 331 307, 44 Man Ode on a Grecian Okay America
P/enry 3 3 6 P % - m Dra#, Te 5 0 8 Point Point of No Return of Order 293 325 591 318 596 377 581 346347, 484 379
Potemkin Predator Pretty Primary Primary Primate Prime Princess Providence Public Cut
le chanson
101 Dalmatians One-Eyed 407 Orpheus Ossessione Our Daily Our Hitler: 310, 282 Bread A Film Jacks
One Plus One 2 0 7 , 4 6 4 " O n t o l o g y of t h e P h o t o g r a p h i c I m a g e , T h e " 579 291 from 508 Germany 342 304
Fei
310
Psyc/jo 1 7 4 , 3 1 8 , 5 8 1 Enemy
Q
Quiz Show 367 573 QMO Vddz's? 2 3 6 ,
R
Raging Bull 331 of the Lost Ark 367 309, 579 580 363 291 a Cause The 267, 377 The 371, 587 580 352, 588 117, 348, 588 Ragtime Raiders i?am M a n
329
Rambo Rashomon
Passenger,
a la plage
P e e - W e e ' s Bzg Adventure Pe##y S e Got Married Peraro? 5 1 , 204, 330, Persuasion Phantom Photogenie Photoplay: Pickpocket Pickup Pierrot 596 583 Menace, 394 A Psychological 310 Street Rock Peta/za 3 2 4 ,
Rz'se to P o w e r o f LOHZ'S Z / V ; T e 5 8 2 The 3 1 7 , 352 The 393 R o e , 77ze 1 1 0 , Robocop Study, flocfcy Rowa 304 335 360 363 592 326 112
Roger and Me
R o m e , O p e n Cz'fy 2 8 2 , 3 0 2 3 0 3 , 5 7 8 R o o m wz'f a View, A 3 7 5 , 5 9 1 Roofs 4 9 0 , 4 9 2 , Rope 129 511, 514 Baby 369 208, 307 Roseanne Rosemary's 593 586
83, 181
R o y a / Wedding
670
Index
s
Saboteur Sabrina Salesman Salvatore Sansho Saturday Saturday Saturday Saving Scarface Schindler's Searchers, Seduced Seduction See It Now 296 299 574 282, 310 and Sunday Fever Live Ryan The 586 364, 489-490 588 Morning 322, 581 327 320 Giuliano the Bailiff Night Night Night Private Saga of Gosta Berling
307, 369
579
369 318
S o m e Lz'/re 7f 77oZ 2 9 9 S o n 0/Z/ze Pz'n/c Panther Sorrow and the Pity, The 575 & Uncut 275 Longer Sows /es toz'zs a e P a n ' s SOMZ/Z P a r / ; : Bigger, Spellbound SZ. Elsewhere Stage Fright Stagecoach Star Trek 494 210 577 307, 358, IThe 587 Phantom 362 Menace 352, 600 213, 296 380 337, 584
a Marriage
330,
585
355
327 328
SZar W a r s 2 1 6 , 3 0 7 , 3 5 1 , 5 8 6 Episode Starship Starting 596 Stavisky... Stolen Kisses SZar Wz'Zness 2 8 0 Troopers Over 587
Sem/eW 4 8 8 , 5 0 0 , Sense and Sensibility September Sena/ Servant, Sesame 182 The Street 323 583 328 309 30, 1955
SZaZe o/Sz'e^e 2 8 2 318 272 313 281 in Film and Steel Magnolias
SZop Z/ze Afz/sz'c 5 7 9 Story of G.I. Joe, The Storytelling in Literature 299 370, 372, 296 Ancestors 600 332 592 Straight Stranger Streetcar Sullivan's Summer Sunday, Than Named Travels of Sam Bloody Boulevard 364, II 325 Baadasssss Song 344, 584 and Mythmaking 423 372, 370 A 268 592 Paradise Desire, 373 Sunday 291 299, 587 579 322
Seven Beauties Seven Samurai Seven-Year Shadow Shadows Shadows Shakespeare Shakespeare S/zame 1 6 5 , Snane She's Sheltering Shining, Shoeshine Shootist, Signs Silence Silent 306 Gotta Itch,
Sevenfn Sea/, The The sex, lies and videotape of a Doubt 353, 581
Out of Brooklyn
297298
591
Sweet
Sweetback's 328
S w e p f .Away
The
282, The 59
T
316 368 164, 4 2 2 , 584 7 2 s e e Terminator Tabu The 291, 575 282 322 348 and Cultural Form 506 Talk Radio TaraeZs 3 4 7 7/asZe o / H o n e y , A Taxi Driver Television: Tempest Tempest, 512 Tender 123, 2
in the Cinema
Mercies
Title Index
Terminal Terminator2 Terminator, Terms Theatre Thelma Theory 396, Theory Man The 178, 362, 184 593 590 366 579 The 277, 51 326 of Physical and Growth Reality of a 200 Motels Two-Lane 2 o r 3 Things 144 Blacktop I Know 348 About 306 583 Her 582
671
of Endearment and Its Double, & Louise of Film: 581 of the Film: 403 272,
2 0 0 1 : 4 S p a c e Odyssey 5 6 , 1 3 8 - 1 3 9 , 2 0 8 , 3 0 7 ,
The Redemption Character 304 281 579 304 357, 495 110111, 322 The 490 309 581 528 325
u
Ugetsu Monogatari Un Chien Andalou Uncle Buck Understanding 410 Unforgiven Unmarried 306 Woman, An 271, 354 505 Media 309 173, 575 582 368-369
thirtysomething This Is Cinerama This Sporting 3:10 to Yuma Three's Thriller Throne Through THX1138 590 of Blood 351
545
Upstairs/Downstairs
Life 305
V
Vagabond Vampyr 318 293 581 311 414 The Vertz'go 8 1 , 3 1 2 , Vz'rgm Spring, Viridiana Vladimir
Time Machine,
7Y/V3HZC 3 6 5 ,
307,
Vormittagsspuk
Toast of the Town Today 4 7 2 , 4 8 0 Tokyo Tommy Story 326 306 322 T o w Jones Tom' 2 9 5 Tom^/zf 4 7 2 , 4 8 1 Topaz 3 1 8 Total Recall Tozzc/z of Evil Toutvabien Toy Story Trainspotting 360 215
w
W a g f/ze D o g 3 6 7 Wall Street 282, 371, 373 491 577 335 270 290 489 W a r azrd P e a c e 4 5 War and Remembrance W a r G a m e , T/ze 3 2 2 War of the Worlds Wavelength Wedding Wedding Weekend 492, W a r R o o m , T/ze 3 2 0 205, 210, 288 The The Banquet, March, W a y Dowzz East 585 423
339, 414, 416, 595 371 Clogs, The 576 576 335 504 576
W e / c o m e BacZ; ifoffer We//are 3 2 3 329-330 Wesfwor/d What W/zz'fe Heat Who Framed Who's Afraid W/zy We Fight Wild Bunch, Wild Child, The 585 406 304
Tree of the Wooden Triumph Trouble Truman of the Will in Paradise Show, The 274 470, Tzwt 1 1 6 , 5 8 9
Is Cinema?
Twz'rz P e a f c 4 9 7
672
Index
Winchell Winchester Winds Wings With Wizard Wobblies, Woman Woman Woman Words Work Witness 355 73 306 491 342 358 and Banners 577 3 36 A 187 A 353 of War of Desire Babies 335 of Oz, The 77ze 3 5 8 in the Dunes Is a Woman, under 584 430 Mechanical The 2 6 1 , 4 1 6
the Influence,
Reproduction,
X
Xala 337
Y
Yellow Yojimbo You John Young Earth 309 Jones 247 368 142 478, 4 8 1 , 579 590
of Shows
z
Z 282 Zabriskie Zelig Point 95, 326 589 Z r a ' e d a n s fe Mezro 3 1 8 1 17. 3 5 5 , 3 5 9 , 296 Zero for Conduct
FILM
U.S. $26.00
"The book's biggest virtue, aside from its range, is its ability t o explain complicated technical or ideological points without t a k i n g any previous knowledge for granted." Janet Maslin, The New York Times Book Review*
First published in 1 9 7 7 , this popular book has become the source on film and media. Now, James Monaco offers a revised and rewritten third edition incorporating every major aspect of this dynamic medium right up to the present. Looking at film from many vantage points, How to Read a Film: Movies, Media, Multimedia explores the medium as both art and craft, sensibility and science, tradition and technology. After examining film's close relation to such other narrative media as the novel, painting, photography, television, and even music, Monaco discusses those elements necessary to understand how films convey meaning, and, more importantly, how we can best discern all that a film is attempting to communicate. In a key departure from the book's previous editions, the new and still-evolving digital context of film is now emphasized throughout How to Read a Film. A new chapter on multimedia brings media criticism into the twenty-first century with a thorough discussion of topics like virtual reality, cyberspace, and the proximity of both to film. Monaco has likewise doubled the size and scope of his "Film and Media: A Chronology" appendix. The book also features a new introduction, an expanded bibliography, and hundreds of illustrative black-andwhite film stills and diagrams. It is a must for all film students, media buffs, and movie fans.
editions:
The one work on the subject one ought to buy as the Richard Gilman, American Film
making accumulations of detail relevant and uncluttered. His manner is modest and undidactic, and he is painstakingly scrupulous."
"Astute and t h o r o u g h g o i n g M o n a c o is cuts above the popular 'criticism' of Reed, Kael, et al. He is lucid and sophisticated." Publishers Weekly
James Monaco is a writer, publisher, and producer. His books include American Film Now,