Take One (Jul-Aug 1971)

through which the legendary nine and a half hours of running time became the two and a half hours we know today. (This reconstruction is based on Stroheim’s second cut, which ran seven hours, and consisted of 42 reels.) The possible recovery of the deleted footage still haunts the imagination of all cinemaphiles, and Weinberg’s foreword chronicles a number of fantastic rumours and reports, all heralding the discovery of the “holy grail,” but all of which, when run to earth, prove sadly unverifiable. The foreword is, of Course, much more than that. It is Weinberg’s eloquent and luminous testament to Stroheim’s unique genius and achievement, written with his usual grace. Winston G. Potter’s design for this volume cannot be too highly praised. Each still is reproduced full-page, with the utmost clarity, while running captions quote excerpts from either the original source of the film, Frank Norris's McTeague, or Stroheim’s complete screenplay. All too often, alas, an ominous rectangle at the bottom of the page informs us this scene was GUT. But, of course, this is the unique opportunity Weinberg offers us: via his rare collection of original stills we can fill in the obvious gaps and truncations in the film as released. | was fortunate enough finally to see Greed shortly before receiving this book, and as great and powerful as | believe it still remains. The Complete Greed can only be a stunning revelation of what once was. | wish, though, that Weinberg had told us when, how and where he obtained these priceless treasures we now can all share with him. That, I’m sure, is a fascinating story in itself. Glen Hunter Creative Filmmaking by Kirk Smallman. Bantam Books. Paper: $1.65. A Primer for Filmmaking by Kenneth Roberts & Win Sharples Jr. Pegasus. Cloth: $18.75; Paper: $8.75. Handbook of Film Production by John Quick & Tom Labau. Macmillan. Cloth: $14.95. Five years ago, the only books on filmmaking available to the semi-professional came from Kodak, and consisted of tips on how to liven up your movies of baby’s birthday party. Now the boom is on, and there are many books to choose from — some expensive, some cheap, most saying much the same things. The basics of filmmaking — the physical steps which you must take in order to make a film — although frightening and mysterious to the beginner are, in fact, relatively simple and are adequately described in all three of the following books. Creative Filmmaking deals with low ta 2a ACE PLY. Pe EB Re oe ere Se Glen Hunter announces he is no longer under contract to To ronto’s Prince of Poverty Row, Sedore Studios, and welcomes any offers. 46 budget, dramatic film production, and it goes through the steps with plenty of examples. If one were to use this book as a creative model, however, one would probably come up with an arty student film complete with superimpositions, filtered coloured shots, and twenty angles of a women sitting in a room doing nothing. Examples aside, this book covers the ballpark and is relatively cheap. The sections on editing are excellent. We are given an imaginary script broken down in terms of audiences’ expectations, and are told not only how to edit it, but why. A Primer for Filmmaking is a sumptuous and expensive book with wide margins and many illustrations, and it goes into the steps of professional filmmaking in encyclopaedic detail. The problem is that it is not detailed enough for the professional to find out about his Mitchell 35mm BNC and the semiprofessional is still not going to find out how to thread his Bolex. In short, this is a book designed to catch the eye of someone browsing through a bookstore, but it is not a very helpful book to someone in the position of having to make films. The essential information is available in a much cheaper and more digestible format elsewhere. Handbook of Film Production differs from the above two books in that it completely avoids any discussion of the creative process of filmmaking. As such, it is probably the neatest book of the three. The making of a film is presented as a technical, organizational task — which, in fact, it is. The critical path from pre-production to final print is tersely described in detailed steps. The book does not give any shortcuts, and is clearly aimed at the professional, industrial or commercial filmmaker. (The best book on this subject remains Edward Pincus’s Guide to Filmmaking (reviewed in TAKE ONE Vol. 2, No. 4), recently issued in hardcover. Of all the ‘“‘how to” books on low-budget filmmaking, his is the only one which brings with it the smell of actual experience. As well as outlining the steps of filmmaking, he tells you what to do when things don’t work out exactly as planned — how to fight with the lab if they mess up your footage, how to light under less-than-ideal conditions, how to deal with a host of extra-curricular problems woefully familiar to those actually making films. Many an artistic inspiration has sizzled out with a blown fuse, and while other books are floating in the clouds with illustrations of the crane dolly used in Ben Hur, Pincus tells you what to do about it.) Ron Blumer Independent Filmmaking by Lenny Lipton. Straight Arrow, San Francisco. 432 pages, illustrated. Cloth: $12.95; Paper: $5.95. In Canada; $14,00; $6.50. The subtitle of Lenny Lipton’s excellent new book is: “A complete guide to 8mm, Super 8, Single 8 and 16mm Filmmaking’. It is, and about time, too. Lipton’s approach is remarkably free from preconceived notions of what you should or shouldn’t do with a movie camera. He tells you how to make proper exposures, but there’s not the slightest hint that you ought to. Similarly, focus, grain, and all the other aspects of “professional” filmmaking are dealt with in great detail, but if you want to know how to make a shot just so much out of focus, and no more, that’s in there too — as well as instructions for swamping the image with grain, scratches, splotches, or any other weirdness you might be looking for. The book’s basic assumption is that if it’s possible to do it, someone might want to. The book is utterly rigorous, both in terms of over-all coverage and expertise. If you don’t know anything about filmmaking and need somewhere to start, this is the book for you. If you know it all, except for that one, very technical point that’s been hanging you up for weeks, you'll probably find it in Independent Filmmaking. For an idea of the book’s encyclopaedic scope, examine, if you will, the following list of chapter headings: Format; Film; Camera; Lens; Camera Movement; Shooting; Splicing & Editing; Sound and Magnetic Recording; Preparing the Soundtrack; The Laboratory; Mixed Bag. Lenny’s writing is clear, interesting and very human — his personality comes through his book nearly as well as it does his films. You get the feeling, reading, that he’s looking over your shoulder, ready to step in if you need him. This may make you feel paranoid, but | liked it — a human guide is rare, and very pleasant to encounter in what is, essentially, a textbook. It’s as if Lenny were taking you by the hand past all the stuff he’s learned the hard way — pointing out an occasional treasure, or a badly muffed opportunity. Furthermore, the book is jam packed with superb illustrations (about 350 of ‘em) which make everything, or almost everything, crystal clear. Photographs, manufacturers’ material, graphs and diagrams are included wherever they might help. Shit, it’s just a super-fine job on every level. If you're a filmmaker, you've got to own this book. (Another reviewer beat me to the following idea, which | offer anyway: It’s a shame that they quit publishing the Whole Earth Catalogue, because Independent Filmmaking should be in there.) The whole package, from contents to illustration and index is simply a knockout. Furthermore, Independent Filmmaking makes great bathroom reading — which you can’t say for Spottiswoode. Michael Goodwin