Part I: Reflection
Weeks 3, 4, and 5 have now passed, and with them, some illuminating information about film canon, and challenges to them that I might agree with.
Many films were watched over the last 3 weeks, the most important one (at least to me) being Citizen Kane. Before seeing it, my impression was that it was a film that was good at the time, but one that, like many older films, was showing its age in pacing, story, and filmmaking practices, and, above all, a clear example of why the Sight and Sound poll favoured older influential films over more modern ones that build off that groundwork. Instead, what I got was a genuinely good film that stood the test of time. The pacing was really well done, and the story and framing of a whole man’s life in the form of flashbacks was done really well in my opinion. As the film still did hold up quite well for me in the current year, I can only imagine how audiences at the time would have felt seeing it, which explains why it has been heralded as ‘the greatest film of all time’ and used as the benchmark for other great films to be compared to.
I do genuinely think that it was better than Vertigo, however. The latter didn’t really grab me, and felt more by-the-books compared to Citizen Kane, so I don’t really understand why it topped the Sight and Sound list (to be honest, I don’t understand why any of the films are on that list, but by their own metrics I think that Citizen Kane is still the better film). To me, Vertigo’s main issue was the pacing, which, at times, felt all over the place, going from a meandering second act to a brisk third, and while I can sympathise with the characters, they did feel a little weak: I never really believed the love they had for each other. Citizen Kane, on the other hand, was essentially a deep dive into a single character, Kane himself, which was done really well and the pacing didn’t suffer at all because of it. I still do believe that it, and Vertigo, should be replaced for the ‘greatest film of all time’, and that many still confuse ‘most influential’ with ‘greatest’, but after seeing it, I do understand why so many hold it in such high regard.
Short films were also a topic for discussion and viewing over the last 3 weeks, and were a lot more experimental and abstract compared to their feature-length counterparts. I understand the reason: some experimental ideas for short films are great to experiment with, but don’t hold enough content for a 90-minute feature, or would be prohibitively cost or labour-intensive for it to be worth it. Needless to say, the sheer abstractness and form that was in some of these truly took me away. Begone Dull Care was probably my favourite; the fact that it was a short that was produced on film without the use of a camera, and every frame was quite literally painted onto each film cell was insane to think about, and gave me a deeper appreciation of the short as a piece of art. The same could be said of Fast Film, not so much because it was a form of film I had never seen before, but because of the painstaking effort it must have taken to create a stop motion made up of other films, yet still somehow being able to tell a story in its own right. The amount of planning of shots and figuring out every frame, specifically when the car drove out of the train, really stood out to me, and I think should honestly be on the Sight and Sound list. It ticks many of the checkboxes that they have for film; while lacking in story, the innovation, form, and the meta commentary about films made by other films seems right up the critics’ alley, but alas, they’re too focused on old films that created a single camera technique to care.
Another short film that was interesting to me was Powers of Ten, not because it was breathtaking and something I had never seen before, but precisely because it was something I had seen before. I had previously watched a video on youtube about metric paper, and it is essentially Powers of Ten but framed around doublings and halvings of metric paper rather than powers of ten, which is much more gripping and visualising compared to Powers of Ten. While I think the Youtube video does it better, I do appreciate the innovation of creating this in a time without heavy digital effects, and it stands out as a clear example of something that was innovative at the time, but is now outclassed by its more modern counterparts.
It is curious why these short films aren’t in the Sight and Sound poll, with only a few making it to the top 100, and it could be part of the troubles with creating such a list. Schrader makes reference to how painstaking it was to create a list, creating multiple criteria a film must hit in order for it to make his canon, and short films don’t really fit the mould. Many of them don’t have stories or characters to speak of, and most serve as an experiment to see if one can change how film can be made.
I also watched a MIFF film during this period, however, opted to watch Neptune Frost online rather than in person, due to the convenience and not having to commute into the city in order to watch it, and was fully expecting to pay a full ticket price in order to get an (arguably) lesser experience. What I didn’t expect was to still have to endure 5 minutes of ads, and for the film to only go up to a supposed 540p quality, which are both things that I was not expecting to come across when watching a film at home, probably due to an acclimation of watching things at home on streaming sites which contain neither of the two constraints. As for Neptune Frost itself, I found myself barely understanding the plot, or what semblance of a plot there was in this film. It felt like the film was trying to say something: I gathered a vague plot about digital realms and a hacker sending a message throughout to encourage revolution and to overthrow the corrupt powers, but everything else seemed like a wash to me. Characters would start dialogue and just get lost in it, to the point where I barely understood anything they were trying to get across. To my knowledge, the film was meant to be a time-travelling science fiction drama with LGBTQIA+ elements, but I only gathered science fiction and drama elements before the film just decided to stop.
To my shock, the film was highly regarded online, at least on Rotten Tomatoes, and, to me, is just another example of an artsy film that’s trying to convince people that it’s deeper than it actually is (although maybe I just didn’t understand or was too tired to fully comprehend the message).
Another large part of the last 3 weeks was getting ready to create our manifestos, and reading and watching some, I have a much clearer idea of what a film manifesto contains. Manifesto was a really interesting experience because it recontextualised so many in completely different contexts, allowing the audience to focus on the emotion and rhythm of what is being spoken rather than what is being spoken itself, which I think is arguably as important as the content of a manifesto. The vitriol and sheer acerbity contained in them helps get their point across, cutting into the hearts of the readers and forcing them to pay attention to what they have to say. However, parts of them do get so wrapped up in metaphor and emotion that they get obfuscated and, unless you are deeply invested in cinema and its culture, it becomes very hard to understand or make any sense of it. In Herzog’s manifesto specifically, it devolves into talks of nature and springtime to the point where I was completely lost by the end of it. It was also intriguing that Vertov’s manifesto was the only one that I could recall that contained an actual invitation to the audience to change the film sphere, rather than just talking of ‘we must…’ and ‘there shall be no…’. It highlighted that manifestos don’t really need to give a better alternative to what is, or even to provide explanation of why what is isn’t sufficient, but all they really need to do is just be a highly emotive metaphor-filled rejection of current cinema.
Overall, these last 3 weeks have been utterly enlightening in terms of what I think of the film canon. While I still believe that it needs to be radically changed from what it is generally accepted as, my experiences watching films at the top of it, such as Citizen Kane, films that have almost no chance of making the list, such as all the short films, as well as a spattering of MIFF ones in between really informed my opinions on why some films are in the canon and why others aren’t. What I also learned was the makeup of the manifesto, the general rejection of the current canon, and how, by watching and reading many of them, a clear blueprint of how to make one can be formed.
Begone Dull Care, dirs Evelyn Lambart & Norman McLaren, 1949, 8 mins
Dimensions of Dialogue, dir. Jan Švankmajer, 1982, 12
Fast Film, dir. Virgil Widrich, 2003, 13 mins
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.
Paul Schrader, “Canon Fodder” in Film Comment, vol. 42, no. 5, September-October 2006, pp. 33-49
Werner Herzog, “Minnesota Declaration”, 1999
Part II: Manifesto Statements
The Cult of Canon needs to drink the kool-aid.
The canon is
bloated
with incomprehensible food and drinks from the poisoned chalice of men, for the critics of the world
eat that shit up.
Films must be eliminated from the canon if they are approaching a mid-life crisis.