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

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198 III. COMPOSITION the dramatic suspense inseparable from the actual event. And as with real crowds, a mixture of long shots and close-ups is used to capture the painted ones. Or to cite another example, remember that sequence in Moulin Rouge in which, in Parker Tyler's words, "Lautrec's dance-hall figures are run swiftly before the eye and intercut to produce the impression of real action in the famous cafe"8 Since altogether these technical procedures are instrumental in establishing physical reality itself on the screen, the spectator, accustomed to the use normally made of them, will all the more be disposed to take for granted what is insinuated in their application to paintings— that the objects he sees are "drawings brought to life" and therefore form part of unstaged reality. Art films in the manner of Goya have much in common with those historical films which, like Dreyer's Day of Wrath, are patterned on period paintings. Consequently, all that has been said about the cinematic qualities of the Dreyer film* also holds true of them: they make the spectator (who naturally knows that the whole real-life magic is derived from lifeless material) experience nascent movement; and they have the ring of authenticity. One might conceive of these art films as historical documentaries, in a sense. In about the same vein are such "montage" films as Mercanton's 1848, the biographical sequences of The Titan, or Lincoln Speaks at Gettysburg by Lewis Jacob and Paul Falkenberg: they resuscitate the spirit of a bygone era through an appropriate assemblage of its remains, artistic or otherwise, and thus profit by the camera's faculty of reproducing faithfully everything before the lens. Other experimental art films give the impression of resulting from two divergent pursuits. Their authors, it appears, not only aspire to free artistic compositions but go in for indoctrination as well. On the one hand, they indulge their creative urges, often fragmentizing the art work with little regard for its peculiar structure (which may be in a cinematic interest); on the other, they play the part of the art critic or historian of art, trying to arrange the material accordingly (which may serve an educational purpose). Storck-Haesaerts' Rubens, for instance, combines cinematically brilliant camera penetrations of the painter's world with an attempt to drive home his predilection for gyrational movements. Note that this film is neither pure cinema nor merely a teaching instrument. It is a glamorous hybrid. From an educational angle such hybrids are problematic, for they half-heartedly assume functions which the instructional film, with its straight exposition of all relevant data, is better equipped to fulfill. The experimental art film comes fully into its own when its creator, * See pp. 81-2.