In a long and varied career, Lindsay Anderson made training films, documentaries, searing family dramas and blistering satires, including This Sporting Life, O Lucky Man! and Britannia Hospital. This book is about a director whose work came to public attention with Free Cinema but who, unlike many of his peers in that movement did not take the Hollywood route to success. What emerges is a strong feeling for the character of the man as well as for a remarkable career in British cinema. Making use of hitherto unseen original materials from Anderson's extensive personal and professional records, this book is valuable as a study of how the films came about: the production problems involved, the collaborative input of others, as well as the completed films' promotion and reception. It also offers a finely argued take on the whole issue of film authorship. It prompts renewed respect for the man and the artist and a desire to watch the films all over again.
Beyond Observation offers a historical analysis of ethnographic film from
the birth of cinema in 1895 until 2015. It covers a large number of films made
in a broad range of styles, in many different parts of the world, from the
Arctic to Africa, from urban China to rural Vermont. It is the first extensive
historical account of its kind and will be accessible to students and lecturers
in visual anthropology as well as to those previously unfamiliar with
ethnographic film. Among the early genres that Paul Henley discusses are
French reportage films, the Soviet kulturfilm, the US travelogue, the classic
documentaries of Robert Flaherty and Basil Wright, as well as the more academic
films of Margaret Mead and Gregory Bateson. Among the leading film-makers of the
post-war period, he discusses Jean Rouch, John Marshall and Robert Gardner, as
well as the emergence of Observational Cinema in the 1970s. He also considers
‘indigenous media’ projects of the 1980s, and the ethnographic films that
flourished on British television until the 1990s. In the final part, he
examines the recent films of David and Judith MacDougall, the Harvard Sensory
Media Lab, and a range of films authored in a participatory manner, as possible
models for the future.
For a decade from 1955, Alfred Hitchcock worked almost exclusively with one composer: Bernard Herrmann. From The Trouble with Harry to the bitter spat surrounding Torn Curtain, the partnership gave us some of cinema’s most memorable musical moments, taught us to stay out of the shower, away from heights and never to spend time in corn fields. Consequently, fascination with their work and relationship endures fifty years later. This volume of new, spellbinding essays explores their tense working relationship as well as their legacy, from crashing cymbals to the sound of The Birds. The volume brings together new work and new perspectives on the relationship between Hitchcock and Herrmann. Featuring new essays by leading scholars of Hitchcock’s work, including Richard Allen, Charles Barr, Murray Pomerance, Sidney Gottlieb, and Jack Sullivan, the volume examines the working relationship between the pair and the contribution that Herrmann’s work brings to Hitchcock’s idiom. Examining key works, including The Man Who Knew Too Much, Psycho, Marnie and Vertigo, the collection explores approaches to sound, music, collaborative authorship and the distinctive contribution that Herrmann’s work with Hitchcock brought to this body of films. Partners in Suspense examines the significance, meanings, histories and enduring legacies of one of film history’s most important partnerships. By engaging with the collaborative work of Hitchcock and Herrmann, the essays in the collection examine the ways in which film directors and composers collaborate, how this collaboration is experienced in the film text, and the ways such a partnership inspires later work.
Genre criticism represents film studies at perhaps its least personalised, dealing with substantial bodies of films (musicals, epics and so on) and tending in the process to suspend, or at least downplay, interest in the creative contributions made by individuals. Such concern, however, returns with a vengeance in debates over filmauthorship. Yet, as we will uncover in this chapter, identifying the authors of films is an area of inquiry that has proved both conceptually challenging and historically mutable. Can a film even be said to have an author in
, Bazin’s objection is with the refusal of certain kinds of
criticism. He offered a summary, to the young critics at the magazine, and their
detractors: ‘we all have something in common in spite of our disputes; not “love
of the cinema” –that goes without saying –but a vigilant refusal under all circumstances to reduce the cinema to the sum of what it expresses’ (1996: 33; emphasis
in original). In adopting a version of Bazin’s title, this chapter wants to emphasise
a different type of reductionism in popular approaches to filmauthorship. To be
the course on the history of ethnographic film that I taught at the University of Manchester for many years, and it retains a tone of address aimed, if not at students exactly, at least at those who are relatively new both to non-fiction film-making and to ethnography. Although it is a substantial book, I make no claim that it is comprehensive: it is a history rather than the history of ethnographic filmauthorship. Indeed, it is only a very partial history in that it is primarily concerned with English-language films, supplemented by a few forays elsewhere
awareness of the dense contexts of production and consumption in which it is enmeshed.
If the book’s first three chapters focus closely on film stylistics, Chapters 4 – 8 move outwards, while continuing to promote detailed engagement with the film text itself. They are concerned respectively with film narrative, film genre, filmauthorship, film stars and the ideologies – class, gender, sexual and racial – of film representation. In each of these chapters, the text is less a self-enclosed, impermeable thing than a prism reflective of a host of real
describe in Chapters 5 and 6 , one response to the new climate was the idea that ethnographic filmauthorship, while clearly unavoidable, could be controlled by means of a ‘reflexive’ declaration on the part of the film-maker about the subjective elements that they brought to the making of their film. Another was the development of more ‘participatory’ praxes that entailed, at least to some degree, the sharing of authorship with the subjects of the film. In the 1980s (see Chapter 7 ), some ethnographic film-makers took this process one logical step further and either
around filmauthorship and stardom. The Beckett on Film project, too, crosses national borders and was dependent on economic relationships between different national broadcasters and production companies, as well as cast and production staff whose nationality sometimes impacted on the realization, marketing and reception of the dramas. Beckett is an international figure, and further study of this spatial context could not only illuminate the variant ways in which his persona and work have gained (or failed to gain) cultural visibility but also contribute to the