This book engages in a critical encounter with the work of Stanley Cavell on cinema, focusing skeptical attention on the claims made for the contribution of cinema to the ethical character of democratic life. In much of Cavell's writing on film he seeks to show us that the protagonists of the films he terms "remarriage comedies" live a form of perfectionism that he upholds as desirable for contemporary democratic society: moral perfectionism. Films are often viewed on television, and television shows can have "filmlike" qualities. The book addresses the nature of viewing cinematic film as a mode of experience, arguing against Cavell that it is akin to dreaming rather than lived consciousness and, crucially, cannot be shared. It mirrors the celebrated dialogue between Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Jean D'Alembert on theatre. The book articulates the implications of philosophical pessimism for addressing contemporary culture in its relationship to political life. It clarifies how The Americans resembles the remarriage films and can illuminate the issues they raise. The tragedy of remarriage, would be a better instructor of a democratic community, if such a community were prepared to listen. The book suggests that dreaming, both with and without films, is not merely a pleasurable distraction but a valuable pastime for democratic citizens. Finally, it concludes with a robust response from Dienstag to his critics.
This book offers a startling re-evaluation of what has until now been seen as the most critically lacklustre period of the British film history. It includes fresh assessment of maverick directors; Pat Jackson, Robert Hamer and Joseph Losey, and even of a maverick critic Raymond Durgnat. The book features personal insights from those inidividually implicated in 1950s cinema; Corin Redgrave on Michael Redgrave, Isabel Quigly on film reviewing, and Bryony Dixon of the BFI on archiving and preservation. A classic image from 1950s British cinema would be Jack Hawkins in The Cruel Sea, the epitome of quiet English integrity. Raymond Durgnat's A Mirror for England: British Movies from Austerity to Affluence, which deals extensively with British films of the 1950s, was written in the mid-1960s and was published in 1970. In a 1947 article called 'Angles of Approach' Lindsay Anderson delivered a fierce attack on contemporary British film culture, outlining a model for a devoted politics of creation, well in line with what we would later understand as auteurism and art cinema aesthetics . The war films of the 1950s together constitute the assented-to record of the emotions and moral judgments called upon to set in order those disorderly events. The book also talks about the Festival of Britain, White Corridors, and four Hamer's post-Ealing films: The Spider and the Fly, The Long Memory, Father Brown and The Scapegoat. A number of factors have contributed to the relative neglect of the 1950s as a decade in British cinema history.
To counterbalance the rather tepid humanism of our
cinema, it might also be said that it is snobbish, anti-intelligent,
emotionally inhibited, willfully blind to the conditions and
problems of the present, dedicated to an out of date, exhausted
national idea. (Lindsay Anderson
This book charts and analyses the work of Oliver Stone – arguably one of the foremost political filmmakers in Hollywood during the last thirty years. Drawing on previously unseen production files from Oliver Stone’s personal archives and hours of interviews both with Stone and a range of present and former associates within the industry, the book employs a thematic structure to explore Stone’s life and work in terms of war, politics, money, love and corporations. This allows the authors both to provide a synthesis of earlier and later film work as well as locate that work within Stone’s developing critique of government. The book explores the development of aesthetic changes in Stone’s filmmaking and locates those changes within ongoing academic debates about the relationship between film and history as well as wider debates about Hollywood and the film industry. All of this is explored with detailed reference to the films themselves and related to a set of wider concerns that Stone has sought to grapple with -the American Century, exceptionalism and the American Dream, global empire, government surveillance and corporate accountability. The book concludes with a perspective on Stone’s ‘brand’ as not just an auteur and commercially viable independent filmmaker but as an activist arguing for a very distinct kind of American exceptionalism that seeks a positive role for the US globally whilst eschewing military adventurism.
shadow; for, as for me, I am less, and more, but not equal
to the task.
How many questions I find to
discuss in what you appear to have unsettled! Whether the cinema, or
even just the genre you specify, is good or bad in itself? What it
is that attracts us to it? What sort of experience the cinema is?
What the time of cinema signifies or whether it
what his work means to us now, how his claims (and those of
others like him) about cinema and about our culture resonate today
and what effect they will have going forward. In particular, I think
it is of no avail to say that Cavell has no desire to command or
instruct if his words are taken for instructions or commandments.
One could say the same of many philosophers or sages, that their
at the end that the Marquis “has class.”
Each setting is itself clearly political and class-conscious. At
this first level, the films show us a world in which class exists
but is not definitive. As such, the message is perhaps important but
not very profound, especially given the American and Popular Front
sympathies. What difference does it make that this is cinema?
Sequence and the rise of auteurism in 1950s Britain
socio-economic, they were at the time mostly discussed and dealt with in
aesthetic terms, and we saw eventually the emergence of the European art
cinema, a new kind of film, specifically aimed at the literate and
professional middle classes.
One of the most important European contributions to the
film history of the 1950s was, thus, undoubtedly the sudden rise of the
auteur, the film director
some of the films
and events I mention will go a little beyond the 1950s). I said I was
asked out of the blue by the Spectator , and this was the
amateurish way things were done in those days. It would never happen
now. All they knew of my tastes and interests and knowledge came from an
article I had sent in (again out of the blue), which had nothing to do
with the cinema, and perhaps a novel I had
with British films of the 1950s, was written in the mid-1960s and was
published in 1970. Given the shifts in attitudes over the past thirty
years – in society generally as well as in the little world of
film studies – one might expect the judgments expressed there, the
choices of what is important, to have become dated and irrelevant. If
one reads Roy Armes’s A Critical History of British Cinema