Movie Makers (Jan-Dec 1952)

21 Should "difficulties" decide? The League's Ten Best judges analyze an important aspect of contest judging JAMES W. MOORE, ACL IN December, in the Closeups column, we stated that our Ten Best judges feel it fair to evaluate only what you, the competing movie makers, set before them. In support of this statement, we cited several pictures which, either through inadequate print quality or unsuitable sound accompaniment, had missed placing in the honors. At that time this attitude on our part seemed so obvious and so understandable that we did not think to explain it further. The job of film judges, it seemed to us, was to judge films. And print quality, clearly, was part and parcel of the filming process; while sound — if an amateur elected to employ it — became equally integrated with the production as a whole. In both cases it seemed obvious that we must judge these qualities as they were set before us — not as they ideally might have been. AN IMPORTANT ASPECT There have been no arguments on this stand, and we do not reasonably expect any. However, since our Ten Best selections were announced, discussion of them has brought to light an additional aspect of this "judging what's set before us" matter. And, to us, it seems an infinitely important aspect as well. It came to light in this way. . . . Looking over the Ten Best list, an able filming friend of ACL said: "What! You gave a Ten Best rating to B's film, and only an Honorable Mention to A's!" Clearly, that's what the listing said we had done; and we still thought we were correct in doing so. "That's right," we replied. "B's film was a better and a more finished production than A's." Our friend shook his head, as if this did not wholly answer his objection. "But." he insisted, "A's picture was infinitely more difficult to make. Even if he failed partially to achieve it, / think you should take these filming difficulties into account." STATING THE PROBLEM The italics are ours, for they serve well in pointing up this imporant problem in the ethics of film evaluation. It is, clearly, another aspect of the "judging what's set before us" standard. For the problem is simply this: How much — if indeed at all — should a film judge modify his evaluation of a given movie because of the difficulties he may know were involved in its production? That, we believe, states the problem accurately. But it is of necessity a relatively wordy statement. So let's consider a hypothetical example to make sure we are all thinking about the same thing. AN EXAMPLE FOR CLARITY Suppose, for example, that Filmer A sets out to record the mystery and majesty, the trials and final triumph of scaling a dangerous Alaskan glacier. In the process he finds both his physical and his filming way beset with difficulties and danger. The icy slopes make using his tripod a heavy hazard. His companions, threatened by an oncoming storm, hurry him through each hard-won scene. His camera (he discovers later) gets balky from the extreme cold. And finally, as they scale the summit in triumph, a blinding snow storm closes in. Both the progressive continuity and the dramatic climax of his film have proved impossible of achievement. Filmer B, on the other hand, has been less adventurous in his holiday horizons, less ambitious in his production plans. He has driven, let us say, to Provincetown^ on Cape Cod, or Carmel-By-The-Sea in California. The place is picturesque, colorful, blessed with sunlight and full of lively human interest. In an easy two weeks of vacation he records these qualities on film. Production A and Production B ultimately clash in competition before our Ten Best judges. We are likely to know by then at least something of the circumstances of their making — how the one was a heroic effort at a great epic, the other an unassuming but imaginative study of a seaside holiday. MOVIE OR MOTIVES? It is almost with reluctance therefore that we turn on the projector. For we see that Production A has fallen short of its great goal. There are gaps in the continuity, rough edges where transitions have been forced, and a final, distressing lack of dramatic climax. Judged solely as a movie, it simply doesn't make the Ten Best grade. Production B, on the other hand, is a lively, perceptive and wholly satisfying study of an attractive place. Judging it solely as a movie, one finds it hard (if not impossible) to fault it. But should we judge each film solely as a movie? There, in a single sentence, is our problem. What would you do? Would you weight your decision with the production difficulties involved? Or would you put on the scales only those values which each picture presents? These are not rhetorical questions only. We'd sincerely like to know. In the meantime, here's how our thinking goes at ACL. . . . AIM vs. ACCOMPLISHMENT In the first place, it seems to us that there are two distinct values involved in the discussion. One is Aim and the other is Accomplishment — and we have an attitude about each. Aim we regard as the ultimate goal set by an amateur as he undertakes the production of a picture. We recognize, of course, that aim varies in importance and in stature from picture to picture — and especially from producer to producer. One amateur may inevitably aim high, while another with equal sincerity may aim more modestly. And, just as inevitably, we believe that the higher goal will have more standing than the lesser with any film judge. It has this standing always with us at ACL. However, aim in its ultimate evaluation is inextricably bound up with accomplishment. For accomplishment we regard as the measure of success with which each movie maker achieves his goal. And this measure of success is primarily what any film judge will see on a contest screen. If the producer's accomplishment is complete and his aim high, a truly great picture is likely to result. But if his aim was too high — perhaps only [Continued on page 29]