Diving deeper into the canon has thus far been an interesting journey. In the past five weeks, I feel as though I’ve been able to better understand justifications for the canon, or more aptly, the inevitability of there being one – in film and other art forms. Paul Schrader’s article was definitely insightful in contextualising such arguments for the canon, and I was intrigued by the history of both the canon and cinema that he explored.
A particularly interesting justification for the canon’s existence was Schrader’s argument of how we might hope to define a canon because of the changing nature of cinema (2006). It’s undeniable that modern technology is working to change how and why movies are made and distributed, and Schrader’s idea that such technology will alter what movies even are definitely provides some food for thought. However, I don’t necessarily harbour as much concern as Schrader does regarding this (or at least, in my perception of his reluctant tone). If, as Schrader notes “the movies have never stopped morphing” and that “technology has defined the art of film” (2006, p.42), why is there a need to define this era of cinema before these technological changes? Nonetheless, I can recognise some merit behind contextualising the creation of a canon within this “transitional phase” (Schrader, 2006, p.42).
Moving forward, one of the main things that was quite revealing in week three was the interrogation of the canon’s primary focus on narrative feature length films. I thoroughly enjoyed exploring various short films and styles, many of which I hadn’t been accustomed with before. Moreover, these viewings certainly reinforced to me that you don’t need two and a half hours to convey a story and all its entailing ideas meaningfully (and spectacularly). Most clearly, I could recognise why ‘Sherlock Jr’ (dir. Buster Keaton, 1924) and ‘La Jetée’ (dir. Chris Marker, 1962)’ were both canonised films – each with their own incredible technical achievements and seamless narratives. But the remaining short films, each more experimental than the last (in various ways) piqued my reflection into why the canon is (mainly) limited to narrative feature films. I found ‘The Street’ (dir. Caroline Leaf, 1976) as narratively touching and visually impressive as I did the aforementioned two, yet it would not ever necessarily be considered for the canon. I definitely think such a limitation is not only an issue, but pointless – ‘the greatest films of all time’ surely cannot come in one exclusive form.
Week four’s viewing of the ‘most canonised film of all time’ was undoubtedly interesting. Although I had tried to watch ‘Citizen Kane’ (dir. Orson Welles, 1941) in the past, I had never really been all that interested. While I did enjoy the film this first viewing, I can’t say that I ended up finding that engagement. I appreciated the value of its various technical accomplishments, and its ambition to deeply explore a non-linear narrative. But I was left waiting for that moment of deep profoundness that would (for me), validate ‘Citizen Kane’s unmatched reputation. Nonetheless, I still enjoyed the viewing and I was glad I finally got around to watching it. Although I definitely found the discussion following the film much more insightful. Thomson’s article brought up some interesting points on whether ‘Citizen Kane’s relevance is slowly fading. Particularly, Thomson notes that “like life, cinema relies on the principle of ‘show me something I haven’t seen before’. So the habit of Citizen Kane can become dismaying” (2011, p.46). This rings true for me, as I know that subconsciously I group ‘Citizen Kane’ in with all the other wildly canonised films I haven’t seen as pretentious – simply because their claims to greatness are everywhere. This leads to another interesting issue of how canonical status can impact one’s viewing experience. Again, this was the case for my experience with the film – not only due to this class but of being aware of the film’s reputation in general. It led to a sort of ambivalent attitude towards watching the movie, and while I didn’t have too many expectations, they were certainly still there. In this way, I do think that such canonical status can be an issue as it can sometimes outlive the movies themselves. Therefore I can see Thomson’s anxieties about whether Kane’s “automatic authority”(2011, p.44) has deterred younger audiences from viewing as quite valid.
Lastly, looking at various manifestos in more depth has been both interesting and honestly, confusing. The confusing part, largely in relation to my ability to understand ‘Manifesto’ (dir. Julian Rosefeldt, 2015). Make no mistake, I loved watching Cate Blanchette play 13 characters (and yell at me in the process), and I loved the idea of threading these different manifestos into one more ‘accessible’ piece. Although, I’m not great at comprehending barrages of information and therefore felt like I was only truly understanding parts of each manifesto monologue. This may also have to do with the fact discussed that many manifestos comprise of 80% flowery jargon. That being said, I really enjoyed the experience of viewing ‘Manifesto’, and was struck by how determined and vigorous every statement was. The aftermath of this screening made moving into the readings really engaging. I found that the manifestos most recently released spoke to me the most, and some of them truly encapsulated my thoughts on the canon, and cinema as an institution.
I’ve said it before (and I’ll probably never stop saying it), but for me, the fundamental ‘straight male whiteness’ that permeates through cinema (and by extension things like ‘film bro culture’) is indefensible in today’s world. Thus, I feel the canon and the people who determine it (as it stands), exist as somewhat of an attempt at defending this. When those like Schrader claim that the canon shouldn’t have to be ‘politically correct’ because such ‘artistic’ lists transcend these factors (2006), it screams as merely protecting the stories, voices and power of those who have always had it. An “equal-opportunity canon” (Schrader, 2006, p.47) is but a pipe dream, because apparently, considering social and political factors as defining rather than additional is a hindrance to artistic purity.
As (J. Gates & Boyce Gillespie, 2019) critically note, black film “as a practice and a product [has] often been treated as additional or derivative rather than integral” (p.13). This is certainly my biggest problem with the canon, and as (Shambu, 2019) notes, this aversion to anything ‘PC’ (yikes) in cinema is only “mourned by the old cinephilia [for the] (tiny) loss of cultural authority and influence for its dominant identity groups” (p.34). Moreover, is it not questionable that critics like Schrader can reject these elements as integral (due to their ‘restrictiveness’), but in the same breath limit the canon to narrative feature films simply because “at some point one draws the line” (Schrader, 2006, p.47)?
Even so, I found a particular statement by Shambu particularly impactful and inspiring. That is that “for the new cinephilia, with its expansive notion of pleasure and value, films that center the lives, subjectivities, experiences, and worlds of marginalized people automatically become valuable” (Shambu, 2019, p.33). In 2020, such a statement gives me hope that we may eventually see the push to a new era of cinema. One that is truly diverse, free of Hollywood’s performative and tokentistic attempts. Cinema that celebrates different stories created and told by diverse people – because lived experience is not a burden, and shouldn’t be considered as one in discourse. Whether this celebration is through the formation of a canon (or the destruction of the current), we’ll have to wait and see.
Reference List:
J. Gates, R, & Boyce Gillespie, M 2019, ‘Reclaiming Black Film and Media Studies’, Film Quarterly, vol. 72, no. 3, pp. 13-15.
Schrader, P 2006, ‘Canon Fodder’, Film Comment, vol. 42, pp. 33-49.
Shambu, G 2019, ‘For a New Cinephilia’, Film Quarterly, vol. 72, no. 3, pp. 32-34.
Thomson ,D 2011, ‘The Mark of Kane’, Sight and Sound, pp. 44-48.