Theory of film : the redemption of physical reality (1960)

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viii PREFACE movies are able to produce. The wide screen too raises many a question which requires special treatment. On the one hand, these subsidiary matters undoubtedly "belong"; on the other, they invite inquiries which, perhaps, are too heavy a burden for a book centering on the basic characteristics of film. Evidently, I am caught in a dilemma. Or rather, I would be caught in it did I not feel strongly against rushing through places which ought to be dwelt in. It is my considered opinion that color and other related subjects had better be discussed separately. Why indeed should one say everything at the same time? At this point I might as well anticipate another possible objection. Perhaps the reader will wonder why, in substantiating my views, I do not limit myself to the testimony of current films which still stand out in his memory, but refer him so often to movies he has long since forgotten or never heard of. This old stuff, he may maintain, is very difficult to check, not to mention that it is probably outmoded in various ways. In consequence, he is likely to question the validity, or the range of validity, of many of my arguments and conclusions. Would they not offer greater interest, I hear him ask, if they were mainly derived from contemporary achievements? I believe this line of reasoning to be fallacious. Even had I kept my material completely up to date, yet I would still be accused of relying on outdated examples within a few years. What is the talk of the town today will have sunk into oblivion tomorrow; the cinema voraciously devours its own children. Nor can it be said that the most recent films always represent the last word of film making. We know, alas, that technical innovations need not involve advances in design and execution; and the battle scenes in D. W. Griffith's The Birth of a Nation— a film dating as far back as 1915— have never been matched, let alone surpassed. In addition, too strong an emphasis on modern practices would have been incompatible with my objectives. Since I aim at tracing the peculiar properties of the medium, I naturally depend, for supporting evidence, on a sample selected from among films of all periods. Hence my constant recourse to a random mixture of old and new instances. Frequently the seeming new is nothing but a variation of old models. All meaningful close-ups originate with After Many Years (1908), in which D. W. Griffith initiated their use for dramatic effect. Similarly, present-day experimental films contain little that cannot be found in the French avantgarde films of the 'twenties. In any such case I preferred to stick to the prototypes which, more vividly than all that follows, still vibrate with the intentions engendering them. For the rest, these old pictures have by no means disappeared. Regular access to them is had in the film libraries of New York, Paris, London,