Anthem Film and Culture – serie

More and more, just a few canonical classics, such as Michael Curtiz’s “Casablanca” (1942) or Victor Fleming’s “Gone With The Wind” (1939), are representing the entire film output of an era, to a new generation that knows little of the past, and is encouraged by popular media to live only in the eternal present. What will happen to the rest of the films that enchanted, informed and transported audiences in the 1930s, 1940s, and even as recently as the 1960s? This collection of essays aims to highlight some of the lesser-known treasures of the past – those titles that have been pushed aside by today’s wave of cinema amnesia.

This engaging collection of Bruce F. Kawin’s most important film essays (1977–2011) is accompanied by his interviews with Lillian Gish (1978) and Howard Hawks (1976).  The Hawks interview is particularly concerned with his work with William Faulkner and their friendship. The Gish interview emphasizes her role as a producer in the 1920s. The essays focus on such topics as violence and sexual politics in film, the relations between horror and science fiction, the growth of video and digital cinema and their effects on both film and film scholarship, the politics of film theory, narration in film, and the relations between film and literature. Among the most significant articles reprinted here are “Me Tarzan, You Junk,” “The Montage Element in Faulkner's Fiction,” “The Mummy’s Pool,” “The Whole World Is Watching,” and “Late Show on the Telescreen:  Film Studies and the Bottom Line.” The book includes close readings of films from “La Jetée” to “The Wizard of Oz.”

This engaging collection of Bruce F. Kawin’s most important film essays (1977–2011) is accompanied by his interviews with Lillian Gish (1978) and Howard Hawks (1976).  The Hawks interview is particularly concerned with his work with William Faulkner and their friendship. The Gish interview emphasizes her role as a producer in the 1920s. The essays focus on such topics as violence and sexual politics in film, the relations between horror and science fiction, the growth of video and digital cinema and their effects on both film and film scholarship, the politics of film theory, narration in film, and the relations between film and literature. Among the most significant articles reprinted here are “Me Tarzan, You Junk,” “The Montage Element in Faulkner's Fiction,” “The Mummy’s Pool,” “The Whole World Is Watching,” and “Late Show on the Telescreen:  Film Studies and the Bottom Line.” The book includes close readings of films from “La Jetée” to “The Wizard of Oz.”

Horror films can be profound fables of human nature and important works of art, yet many people dismiss them out of hand. ‘Horror and the Horror Film’ conveys a mature appreciation for horror films along with a comprehensive view of their narrative strategies, their relations to reality and fantasy and their cinematic power. The volume covers the horror film and its subgenres – such as the vampire movie – from 1896 to the present. It covers the entire genre by considering every kind of monster in it, including the human.

Horror films can be profound fables of human nature and important works of art, yet many people dismiss them out of hand. ‘Horror and the Horror Film’ conveys a mature appreciation for horror films along with a comprehensive view of their narrative strategies, their relations to reality and fantasy and their cinematic power. The volume covers the horror film and its subgenres – such as the vampire movie – from 1896 to the present. It covers the entire genre by considering every kind of monster in it, including the human.

This is the first illustrated edition of the diaries kept by Australian-born photographer and film maker Frank Hurley about his work on the Mawson and Shackleton Antarctic Expeditions, his two expeditions to Papua in the 1920s, and his experiences during the First and Second World Wars. While Hurley is best known today as a photographer and film maker, there is another source, so far little known to the public, which also gives us a startling sense of the presence of the past – his voluminous manuscript diaries, which have survived years of world travel and are now carefully preserved in the archives of the National Library of Australia in Canberra and the Mitchell Library in Sydney. This illustrated edition of his diaries presents Frank Hurley in his own words, explores his testimony to these significant events, and reviews the part he played in imagining them for an international public.

More and more, just a few canonical classics, such as Michael Curtiz’s “Casablanca” (1942) or Victor Fleming’s “Gone With The Wind” (1939), are representing the entire film output of an era, to a new generation that knows little of the past, and is encouraged by popular media to live only in the eternal present. What will happen to the rest of the films that enchanted, informed and transported audiences in the 1930s, 1940s, and even as recently as the 1960s? This collection of essays aims to highlight some of the lesser-known treasures of the past – those titles that have been pushed aside by today’s wave of cinema amnesia.

Representations of troubled and inhospitable domestic places are a common feature of many cinematic narratives. “Unhomely Cinema” explores how the unhomely nature of contemporary film narrative provides an insight into what it means to dwell in today’s global societies. Providing analyses of a variety of film genres – from Michel Gondry’s comedy “Be Kind Rewind” to Laurent Cantet’s eerie suspense thriller “Time Out” – “Unhomely Cinema” presents an engaging discussion of some of the most pertinent social and cultural issues involved in the question of “making home” in contemporary societies.

This first study of Adoor Gopalakrishnan’s feature films offers a compelling analysis of the socio-historical contexts of his work. Suranjan Ganguly examines how Kerala’s abrupt displacement from a princely feudal state into twentieth-century modernity has shaped Gopalakrishnan’s complex narratives about identity, selfhood and otherness, in which innocence is often at stake, and characters struggle with their consciences. Ganguly places the films within their larger frameworks of guilt and redemption in which the hope of emancipation – moral, spiritual and creative – is real and tangible.

This first study of Adoor Gopalakrishnan’s feature films offers a compelling analysis of the socio-historical contexts of his work. Suranjan Ganguly examines how Kerala’s abrupt displacement from a princely feudal state into twentieth-century modernity has shaped Gopalakrishnan’s complex narratives about identity, selfhood and otherness, in which innocence is often at stake, and characters struggle with their consciences. Ganguly places the films within their larger frameworks of guilt and redemption in which the hope of emancipation – moral, spiritual and creative – is real and tangible.

The book offers an original perspective on the reception of Bollywood cinema by opening up new vistas and new sensibilities with visceral or corporeal immediacy. With a firm grasp of the complete filmic archive, the book brings new and original insights into Bollywood’s dominant genres, notably the mythological, the Arabian Nights fantasies, the sentimental, the gothic ‘Uncanny’ and the new avant-garde. The work imbricates aesthetic response with lived experience, the latter always defined by a sense of loss, nostalgia and ‘unbelonging’.

The Coen Bros. have attracted a wide following and been rewarded with Oscars and other honors. Some of their films are cult favorites and box office hits, such as Fargo, The Big Lebowski, and No Country for Old Men. Yet the team of filmmaking brothers remains misunderstood in some circles. Ethan and Joel Coen deliberately unsettle conventional expectations and raise disturbing questions about human nature while mischievously mixing film genres and styles. Their films display shocking tonal shifts as they blend comedy and drama and, most controversially, comedy and violence. This potent mélange of themes and stylistic approaches makes the Coens’ films adventurous, unpredictable probes into contemporary social anxieties. As brilliant satirists, they are heirs to Preston Sturges and Billy Wilder. But they resist easy definition and raise the ire of some critics who like films to fit more comfortably into preexisting formats. Film historian and critic Joseph McBride — author of acclaimed biographies of Frank Capra, John Ford, and Steven Spielberg, along with critical studies of Orson Welles, Ernst Lubitsch, and Wilder — jousts with the Coens’ detractors while defining the filmmakers’ freshness and originality. The quirkily individualistic Coens are the kind of personal filmmakers the increasingly conglomerated American cinema rarely fosters anymore, and this critical study illuminates their artistic personalities and contributions.

Shots to the Heart explores how the work of the film actor inspires, provokes, and refigures our feelings and thoughts about the cinema. The book closely considers the art of film performance, the combined effect of actors’ gestures, movements, and expressions, in relation to the viewer’s sensitive and creative eye. As discrete moments of performative incarnation on-screen slowly accumulate, actors also become figures of meaning. For many viewers, the screen figures which result from performance are simply called “characters.” But in thinking about cinema, the words “character” and “characterization” signal post-experiential abstractions: when we quickly identify characters or summarize characterization after seeing a movie, we are leaping over the emotions felt through our loving attention to the bodies flitting through a film. Such concepts can never replace a careful regard for what actors on-screen are actually doing, moment-by-moment, gesture-by-gesture. Shots to the Heart is finally not too concerned with the narrative machinations within which these gestures are inscribed, and even resists the attempt to assemble these descriptions of performance into a “full” account of the film as a whole. What Shots to the Heart does is let little moments of performance live on, in writing, as they are strung together alongside performative fragments from other films, in a kind of alternative, cinephilic account of what was felt as actors moved on the screen before us.

This book considers the presence of the supernatural and Gothic elements of the Western on screen. These dark and sinister undertones often exist in Western narratives to draw attention to the ever-present issue of death and its haunting resonance which characters encounter. This book examines this through key historic moments in Western film and its contemporary incarnations. The book detects imposing correlations in themes and currents between the Gothic and the Western relating to existential crisis and a loss of faith in ideologies and  institutions. These themes represent the tensions between the old and the new, the deranged insistence on civility and order in a chaotic landscape, disillusionment and the shattering of faith in the natural order, and even nature  and order themselves. The Western, just like the Gothic tale, reminds us that new frontiers are mired in the past, and optimism and survival are hunted down and haunted by guilt-ridden past and passed anxieties and traumas

This book is neither biography nor a conventional film critique. Rather, the text explores aspects of Hitchcock’s work in relation to theories drawn from the social sciences and philosophy. The various chapters focus not on specific films, but on broader ideas central to Hitchcock’s work. There is, for instance, a chapter on his idea of the MacGuffin in which I use Ernesto Laclau’s theories of equivalent substitution to explain how the MacGuffin functions in Hitchcock’s works. There is also a chapter on his notion of ‘pure cinema’ which moves from the idea of purity as an anthropological concept to consider purity in relation to current debates regarding so-called hybrid media, and Hitchcock’s relevance to these issues in respect of his dissatisfaction with the advent of sound to the cinema world. Broadly speaking, the book uses Hitchcock’s films to illustrate ideas in the social sciences and philosophy and uses those same ideas to illustrate aspects of Hitchcock’s films.

Cavell’s Ontology of Film presents ten essays by some of the most prominent international scholars of Stanley Cavell’s work with a double purpose: to look back, half a century after its original publication, at Cavell’s now seminal film-philosophical book The World Viewed (1971, enlarged 1979), and to draw on its concepts to assess the world in the current age of digital media and climate change.The volume opens with a series of essays that revisit Cavell’s discussion of film—crucially including classical Hollywood movies—in the context of modernism. Several authors consider whether this preoccupation with modernism in Cavell’s early work ultimately (and anachronistically) gave way to an embrace of romanticism or whether Cavell conceives these frameworks as offering different responses to the persistent problem of skepticism. Others consider how popular filmmakers or film genres outside Hollywood might contribute to, or alter, Cavell’s thoughts on the movies. Moreover, taking to heart that some of Cavell’s main lines of thought are premised on the idea of film as an analog medium that projects and screens the world inside a theater, several contributions to this volume nevertheless project The World Viewed’s concepts onto the future of our televisual and digital culture. The volume finally loops back to Cavell’s discussion of modernism in The World Viewed so as to find the seeds of a Cavellian politics for the age of climate disaster.Thus, beyond celebrating the past through a collection of reviews and reflections on The World Viewed—a book of “ontological reflection” that themselves conceive the world on screen as “a world past”—the present volume is best understood as a series of Cavellian meditations on media and mediated relations to the world, sustained, in the wake of Cavell’s own passing (2018), by an ongoing current of thought on the idea of temporality itself.

The considerably large critical literature on Bollywood cinema is marked by an absence as it has not engaged fully with the ways in which songs lead to the memorial construction of films and how a spectator connects with films through their songs. The studies tended to deflect the emotional dimension of songs, their internal lyrical structure and their intertextual connections in favour of readings that treat songs as subsidiary to other formal elements. Consequently, there was little understanding of songs and their complex relationship with the narrative of the film. To address this absence, this book begins by taking a look at the prior history of Bollywood songs since the arrival of talkies with the film Alam Ara (1931). The chapter takes the reader through the journey of film songs from synchronous singing and music during production to non-diegetic music and the playback singer. In addition, the somewhat disparate filmic milieu of history, emotion and ethics, much of which are drawn from traditional texts, served to affirm the values of a secular India. Melodrama, mediated via Indian theories of sentimentality, became one of the key colonial discourses through which the politico-social order was critiqued and Indianness celebrated.The book then raises the question, ‘Can one speak about periods?’ After defending periodisation in this instance because it does have heuristic value, the argument is given added support by positing melodrama as the dominant dramatic mode of Indian Hindi (Bollywood) cinema of the Golden Age. The term ‘melodrama’ is used to designate a film genre marked by sentimental songs that appeal to the heightened emotions of the spectator. Because emotionality is central to the concept of melodrama, a consideration of how emotions may be theorised is also given. The Indian classical concept of rasa is examined to provide a theoretical frame that is both historical and indigenous. Sentimental and melodramatic emotion ultimately enhanced cinema’s ethical role in building a post-colonial nation – a nation that was emerging from the trauma of partition as well as the excesses of colonisation. However, by focusing with holistic lens on the period in question – the ‘Golden Age’ – the book finesses the value of periodisation in this instance. Frame analyses of a sample of song sequences from a variety of films are used to demonstrate the roles of various song registers and the way these different registers (as identified in the appendices) work within the narrative. The argument for a connection between songs and narrative in the period is strengthened by an examination of the elements of song picturisation, most notably body movement, mise-en-scènes, lyrics, vocal expression, lighting, shots and music. A close examination of these elements reinforced the links between felt emotion and the melodramatic form in the Golden Age. Furthermore, it is argued that while Indian theories of emotional responses – notably rasa theory – recognised the place of cathartic outpouring in any dramatic presentation, the shape and structure of Bollywood cinema was indebted to the melodramatic imaginary that came to India with British colonisation. The archival material on English novels read in colonial times indicated that novels dealing with the ‘man of feeling’, novels such as Henry Mackenzie’s The Man of Feeling (1771) and Oliver Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield (1766), provided the melodramatic structures within which native structures of feeling (as in the varied rasas) may be given felt presence. That structure and its emotional pulling power dictated cinema and especially the cinema of the Golden Age. There are direct links between Devdas (1935), a seminal film based on a sentimental Bengali novel, and Pyaasa (1957), and these links speak to the presence of English discourses of sentimentality. Such was their pervasive power, indeed their affective intensities and strength, that no film of the ‘Golden Age of Bollywood’ escaped from their enervating and ineluctable presence.The argument of the book – as indicated above – is followed through with references to many films. The instance of the ‘Islamicate’ film Mughal-e-Azam (1960) is taken up as an example of the power and pervasiveness of the melodramatic temper and the role of songs even when the cinematic genre is that of an epic. A close, paradigmatic reading of this film shows how the evocative power of sentimentality, emotional capital and the genre of melodrama invades an historical narrative and transforms history. To give greater depth to the place of songs, sentimentality and melodrama, the book turns to the two exceptional auteurs of the Golden Age, Raj Kapoor and Guru Dutt. Between them, these two auteurs demonstrate a range of filmic articulations of songs in Hindi cinema, and their films illustrate, in an exemplary fashion, the role of songs in carrying the melodramatic and sentimental narrative of a film. The Hindi film auteur, as producer, director and actor, not only imposes his special style on his films but is visible on the screen itself.This book is primarily concerned with songs from the Golden Age of Hindi cinema – 1951–1963 – a period in Hindi film history when emotion, sentiment and melodrama were regularly combined to create ‘affective intensities’. The registers, moods and, in some cases, ragas of songs have been examined over a broad corpus of examples to identify their effect on the spectator, their role in the narrative of the film and their thematisation associated with specific emotional states. In so doing, the book theorises sentimentality and melodrama in the context of Hindi film songs to more fully identify the nature of sentimentality and to more fully understand the way songs play a role in the melodramatic form.

Commercial cinema has always been one of the biggest indigenous industries in India, and remains so in the post-globalization era, when Indian economy has entered a new phase of global participation, liberalization and expansion. Issues of community, gender, society, social and economic justice, bourgeois-liberal individualism, secular nationhood and ethnic identity are nowhere more explored in the Indian cultural mainstream than in commercial cinema. As Indian economy and policy have gone through a sea-change after the end of the Cold War and the commencement of the Global Capital, the largest cultural industry has followed suit. This book is a significant addition to the study of post-Global Indian culture. The articles represent a variety of theoretical and pedagogical approaches, and the collection will be appreciated by beginners and scholars alike.