It is apparent to me now, with greater conviction, that ideologies and criticism in film “culture,” and its studies, lies an inherent supremacy ingrained both in its past, and in its present state. By default, as does the film canon. Not only in its one-sided narrative, but in its varied approach to criteria and what constitutes a film’s significance, and place, in the history of cinema. Resting on a foundation of deep-rooted misogyny, racism and elitism, the positioning of the “great” canonical films and its underlying ethos reflect that of what Girish Shambu refers to as the ‘old cinephilia’. Displayed by the prominence placed on past lists, the lack of disparity in consulted critics, and of the stories chosen to be passed down to generations of cinephiles, creators, scholars– the masses.
It is in Paul Schader’s writing that I began to think more broadly about the canon. The reason for the canon, the logic (if any) behind the canon, and of its broader relevance in relation to the history of film criticism and of art theory, in an academic context. It provided me with a sense of relevance for the need of a canon. The notion of the canon being an educational necessity; of cinema as the Seventh Art. Quite noticeably however, challenges to the canon arise in that what is being taught derives from a sole narrative. A Western framing of storytelling; in which those who tell its story, are of the cis white male panorama, which has dominated and defined “the century of cinema”.
Schader notes, “canons are by definition elitist enterprises,” (46) wherein my initial thoughts of the canon remain. Conversation in class seemed to circulate around Pauline Kael’s take on trash, in which I couldn’t help but mention my own trash taste of a Burlesque feature starring Cher and Christina Aguilera. Yet it is through conversation of “guilty pleasures” and blockbusters, and in observations made from the results of our own canonical list-making, that illuminated once more why such canonical lists exist, to preserve the art of film. However, if the film canon is to remain, it must be away from its current conventions.
From an educative standpoint, Dziga Vertov’s, Man with a Movie Camera, acted as a catalyst for innovative camera techniques and the experimental nature of its constructed reality. As a lover of experimental film, I find there is something about this form, or lack thereof, that has the capacity to distinguish itself away from the critical eye and its imposed perceptions of art.
I spoke in class of giving credit where credit is due, yet surely, we can deduce that the way in which the art of experimental film has pushed boundaries since Vertov’s 1929 feature, other notable works should have entered the canon by now, or so one would think. To quote Vertov himself from his own manifesto, “WE: VARIANT OF A MANIFESTO” :
“IN AN ART OF MOVEMENT, WE HAVE NO REASON TO DEVOTE OUR PARTICULAR ATTENTION TO CONTEMPORARY MAN.”
After all, is a canonical list meant to represent the “contemporary man”? The great auteur? Or the films which have achieved historical firsts? If so, how are we to know if it is in fact Vertov we should be crediting? And why does the canon continue to resist the technological advancements in its exclusion of the “firsts” of the digital age?
I rejoiced in the viewings of experimental shorts, of Norman McLaren and Evelyn Lambart’s, Begone Dull Care. Its scratching and painting on film stock and its staccato rhythm in its editing, with the musical stylings of the Oscar Peterson Trio; a visual masterpiece of music and video, far before the time of MTV. Admittedly, the work of Buster Keaton (Sherlock Jr.) did not captivate me in my first viewing attempt, and I say attempt because my attention was wavering the entire time. Slapstick comedy in the silent era just isn’t for me, although it amused me. In my second attempt, I switched off this judgemental, and somewhat critical, eye we instinctively adopt when first viewing a film designated to us in an academic context, even more so when it is a part of the canon. Alas, another challenge to the canon appears. Upon this second viewing, notebook away, I enjoyed its comedic nature and was amazed at its emotive language and storytelling, conveyed by facial expressions and score, rather than its dialogue. It goes to show, “don’t try to do two things at once and expect to do justice to both”.
A book I am currently reading, entitled, “In the Dream House,” references Sadiya Hartman’s essay “Venus in Two Acts,” which speaks to the concept of archival silence, in which she writes that ‘sometimes stories are destroyed, and sometimes they are never uttered in the first place.’
Once again, my thoughts shift to the canonical ‘great art vortex’ I have been sucked into since beginning this studio. I continue reading, this time it is the words of Jaceques Derrida which note:
“WHAT IS PLACED IN OR LEFT OUT OF THE ARCHIVE IS A POLITICAL ACT, DICTATED BY THE ARCHIVIST AND THE POLITICAL CONTEXT IN WHICH [THEY] LIVE.”
I found this to be of great relevance to the canon discourse, as ‘to understand the canon, is to understand its narrative.’ (Schader, 34)
The manifestos of Gates and Gillespie in their questioning of ‘film studies’ perspectival tendencies,’ and Manuel Betancourt’s, “A Queer(‘s) Cinema” provide an insight into the powerful reclaiming of cinema which has been defined as “other” in the narrative of film history and the canon. Their words holding even greater significance amongst the air of cultural revolution in today’s times. Both manifestos resonated with the class, and conversations flowed in regard to the omitted narratives of film history, and of representation and attitudes in cinema as a whole. Queer cinema as ‘the child of straight cinema,’ and the calls of Gates & Gillespie stating that ‘we must go to film festivals [as] black film thrives in arenas other than the standard cineplex’.
In my 2 years spent conducting cinema checks during previews at the most commercial of commercial cinemas, the ‘How to Make A Blockbuster Movie Trailer’ reminded me of those times. Imagine this clip playing on repeat for 25 minutes, without AdBlock. Across 9 screens, with numerous sessions in a day. Gone are those days. The abundance of film festivals across Melbourne bring to me a far greater joy, their programming reflecting a cinema for all, the cinema we should be supporting and championing.
These past few weeks of the studio coincided with MIFF 68½ and provided a depth and insight into my own canon fodder and of cinema in the COVID era…
From Women Make Film, to Ja’tovia Gary’s powerful and poetic storytelling in the Giverny Document, to the Cambodian-Australian voice of Allison Chhorn in The Plastic House. The stillness of the Serbian landscape in Outside the Oranges are Blooming, the life of Ulrike Ottinge told in Paris Calligrammes. Stories of migrant youth and queer voices in Faraz Shariat’s, No Hard Feelings, to the stories of Ramallah and Palestine in Mayor. Stories from South Africa in Lemohan Jeremiah Mosese, This is Not a Burial, It’s a Resurrection to the Tanzanian-American voice of Ekwa Msang and Farewell Amor.
How can such a canon pertain its dominance when the source of much of its storytelling is simply one way of knowing, this Western narrative I spoke to earlier. These films are out there. The films of Alice Guy-Blaché. Of Deren, Chytilová and Varda. Of Moffatt and DuVernay. The list goes on. Does the canonical list then become one of laziness? Of ignorance? Sitting as a reminder of the silenced voices and stories in its history; it most certainly seems that way. To echo the manifesto of Stridentism, it seems ‘our egotism is now supreme,’ yet I have hopes in the ‘storytelling revolution’ (Wente 42) which is upon us, pushing these stories which for too long have been omitted from the film archives.
The power of language in Julian Rosefeld’s, Manifesto, had me shaking my head in defiance and frantically scribbling the powerful sentiments of Cate Blanchett’s revolutionary personas. The deliberate choice of a woman conveying the messages of these manifestos did not go unnoticed, albeit some of her accents attempted distracted me from the dialogue. Films such as Manifesto, which ‘blur the distinction between movies and art installations,’ (Schader 47) provoke truth in ‘the reality of thought’ over ‘reality of appearance’.
It is in the theatricality and appearance of Citzen Kane and Xanadu, its projected greatness and its canonical status which heralded a number of expectations by the class, some high, some low. A film ‘judged not on its own terms, but by its place in the evolution of film’ is a challenge to both the canon and our own freedom of thought, the canon ridding us of this with our pre-imposed knowledge of the film’s merit.
I wonder, why is it that in the most recent Sight & Sound poll, Vertigo finally reigned supreme? The video essay relaying to me the influence of Vertigo helped me understand its significance in how Hitchcock’s film shaped and inspire future generations of filmmakers, yet its act of knocking Citizen Kane from the top spot after half a century was of interest to me. As far as canon fodder goes, this is a significant shift in opinion.
Now we reach a short break in our own canon fodder, right when I feel as if I’m freefalling from the bell tower in Vertigo, my changing perception of the canon and its challenges enacting a dolly zoom-like effect in my mind. My thoughts, tumbling down the staircase like that of the pram in the Odessa steps sequence. What is this canon doing to me? Throughout my opposition to it and its challenges, I remain enthused to dive even deeper; but with a manner of scepticism, and with hopes to reframe the canon and the conversations of which ensue. Until next time, where not even I know what revolutionary mindset I will have adopted as the words of Dada, through Blanchett, ring through my ears and echo in my lounge room over the break.
References
Dziga Vertov, “We: Variant of a Manifesto “, in Kino-Eye: The Writings of Dziga Vertov, ed. Annette Michelson, trans. Kevin O’Brien, University of California Press, 1984, pp 5-9.
Girish Shambu, “For a New Cinephilia ” in Film Quarterly vol. 72 no. 3, Spring 2019, University of California Press, Berkeley, 2019, pp. 32-34.
Jesse Wente, “Doing All Things Differently ” in Film Quarterly vol. 72 no. 3, Spring 2019, University of California Press, Berkeley, 2019, pp. 42-43.
Manuel Betancourt, “A Queer(’s) Cinema ” in Film Quarterly vol. 72 no. 3, Spring 2019, University of California Press, Berkeley, 2019, pp. 15-17.
Paul Schrader, “Canon Fodder ” in Film Comment, vol. 42, no. 5, September-October 2006, pp. 33-49
Racquel J. Gates and Michael Boyce Gillespie, “Reclaiming Black Film and Media Studies” in Film Quarterly vol. 72 no. 3, Spring 2019, University of California Press, Berkeley, 2019, pp. 13-15.