To continue where last month's post, Poll Position, left off . . .
But what about the latest list? Here are the Top Ten Films on the 2012 Critic's Poll:
1. Vertigo
2. Citizen Kane
3. La Règle du Jeu
4. Tokyo Story
5. 2001: A Space Odyssey
6. The Man With a Movie Camera
7. Sunrise
8. The Searchers
9. The Passion of Joan of Arc
10. 8½
Getting the nuts and bolts out of the way, seven films in 2002's Top Ten survived the decade since. In 2002's poll, six remained from 1992's. Only five remained in the 1992 poll from 1982. If nothing else, this trend reveals a kind of homogenization of taste over the intervening 30 years. If I don't find the trend all that comforting, it's because of my conviction that five of the films on the latest list have no business being there.
But there are enough winners and losers to provoke discussion, some big and some incremental. The biggest loser by far is The Godfather(s), falling precipitously in a decade from number 4 to numbers 21 (Part I) and 31 (Part II). Both films first appeared in the Top Ten in 2002. The only notable fact about their sudden - and inexplicable - appearance was that they were made in the 1970s - the first, and perhaps the last, time films more recent than the 1960s, which would seem to be regarded as the last great era of filmmaking, would appear in the polls .
Singin' in the Rain must be suffering from whiplash, having first appeared at #4 in 1982, dropping off the '92 poll, returning at #10 in 2002, and sinking to #20 on the latest poll. Like a monumental yo-yo, Dreyer's The Passion of Joan of Arc was #7 in '92, dropped to #14 in '02, and returns to #9 this year. Eisenstein's daunting cinematic achievement Battleship Potemkin was recognized in every Top Ten poll for fifty years as a model of great filmmaking. Another Russian film, this year's newcomer, Dziga Vertov's Man With a Movie Camera, has displaced Potemkin (it fell to #11).(1)
Antonioni's L'Avventura, which sprang to #2 just two years after its release, fell to #5 in '72, to #7 in '82, has vanished from the precincts of the Top Ten ever since. It was #20 in '02 and tied (with The Godfather and Le mépris) for #21 in the latest poll. Its neglect in favor of trash like Vertigo, 2001, and The Searchers is indefensible.
As I pointed out last month, survival is the only real test of a work of art's greatness, even when, with film, we're talking only about mere decades. The Top Ten polls are intended, I suppose, to be Canonical. Yet where is there a consensus among critics brave enough to include a film newer than 1968 in their choices? Is the art of film actually receding further into the past at an accelerating speed, as these polls suggest?
Four of the films in the poll are genre films, Vertigo, 2001: A Space Odyssey, The Man with a Movie Camera, and The Searchers. The American Film Institute, which has its own Top Ten Lists, segregates these films into genre categories: Vertigo is the number 1 "mystery", The Searchers is the number 1 western, 2001: A Space Odyssey the number 1 "sci-fi". This is a somewhat clumsy, but much more practical approach to a genre-driven industry. AFI doesn't have a category for mainstream films, whose subjects are recognizable human beings living in the real world, like Citizen Kane, La Règle du Jeu, Tokyo Story, etc. But at least they recognize, which Sight and Sound doesn't, the quite simple critical idea that calling Citizen Kane a great film and calling Vertigo a great mystery makes mincemeat of the word "great".
2001 is, as John Simon called it, a "shaggy god story". A few years ago, I counted it among the many "films I love to hate". Its director, Stanley Kubrick, made his masterpiece five years before it. Dr Strangelove is far more inventive and memorable. Since the end of the Cold War, however, a growing number of critics who never had to live under the threat of imminent nuclear annihilation, apparently no longer understand it. Too bad for them.
Thanks to the law of averages, there are five worthy films in Sight and Sound's Top Ten: Citizen Kane, La Règle du Jeu, Tokyo Story (2), The Passion of Joan of Arc, and 8½. The odd man out is Sunrise. F.W. Murnau was one of the most revered directors of the silent era who developed his own extremely rigorous style in Germany. He answered the siren call of Hollywood in 1926 and was, predictably, killed there in a car crash. But not before he could make one last silent film, Sunrise: A Poem of Two Humans. The film was lovingly restored (a new negative had to be created from an existing print), and amazed many audiences, finding for Murnau a new generation of admirers. I find the film stultifying because it is made in what I would call a dead language, a silent language, of film. Watching another silent film, The Passion of Joan of Arc, moved Vernon Young to write: "a silent movie (this, one hour after you've watched it, seems hard to believe)". Murnau would have insisted that the silence of his films was much more than just the absence of sound. But whereas the absence of sound is barely noticeable in Passion of Joan of Arc, so that emotions and ideas come across clearly and powerfully after 84 years years, in Sunrise I felt trapped in an old movie trying to make purity out of an impediment.
Now to the Poll's most controversial revelation, the awarding of the #1 position to Hitchcock's Vertigo. When the results of this new poll were announced by BFI, I was amazed at the amount of coverage it received from every news channel and news website, and at how the news that Hitchcock's film was now the greatest film of all time provoked puzzlement or amusement. There are any number of ways of proving in practical, dispassionate language that Citizen Kane, which held the position for forty years, is not only superior to Vertigo but that one is a work of art and the other does not even qualify as pseudo-art. But such proof would involve invoking standards that too few critics bother to recognize any more. (3)
My predictions for 2022 are ominous. Andrei Tarkovsky has three titles in the top fifty: Mirror at #19, Andrei Rublev tied for #26, and Stalker tied for #29. They combine qualities - obscurity and pretentiousness - that are irresistible to film buffs. I won't be surprised if one of them breaks into the Top Ten. Apocalypse Now, which is #6 on the Director's List is at #14 on the Critic's poll. Since poor old Coppola has lived to see his vastly overrated Godfather(s) decline, the critics may just throw him a bone in 2022. Dzigo Vertov will sink back into obscurity, I'm certain.
What will be #1 in 2022? I feel confident that Vertigo is a passing craze, like any number of turkeys in past polls (Louisiana Story in 1952, La terra trema in 1962, The Magnificent Ambersons in 1972 and 1982). However much I may wish to see Sunrise, 2001, and The Searchers vanish from the list in ten years, it's merely wishful thinking. BFI has published a list of every film that received a vote in its poll. Along with great films like The Battle of Algiers (3 votes), Viridiana (3 votes), and Miracle in Milan (1 vote), there is enough trash to warrant scrapping the silly poll altogether.
(1) Vertov's film owes its place in the Top Ten to the people who got it out of a vault, restored it and re-released it to theaters and DVDs. This is a capricious trend that can only get worse. If you ask me, the restorers are digging in the wrong vaults.
(2) Tokyo Story is moving and beautiful but also, I think, tendentious and inferior Ozu. Late Spring is a much finer example of his rarefied art, but less "accessible". Enough of the voters in the Critic's Poll were aware of this, and so ranked Late Spring at #15
(3) And Vertigo is not even Old Tubby's best effort. The 39 Steps or The Wrong Man are vastly superior.
What do you think will be the survival likelihood of silent films?
ReplyDeleteOkay, too broad a question ...but surely they can’t just be dismissed with Charles Thomas Samuels’s (THAT book was in my town’s library, too) crushing dismissal word, “Therefore”(!)
Well, some of us (snobs) agree that there’s no more affecting close to a movie than in “City Lights,” but if Michigan Theatre was still allowing non-vaxxed (i.e., let’s go back years) and I was a young hotshot, the only date movie I could see taking a girl to (Sherlock Jr is too short) would Murnau’s Sunrise. When I first saw it written about in a film book (Thomson?) some auteurist PRAISED it as a presager of the Women’s Film, so I wasn’t actually that incredulous, nothing in more sentimental than your average old Our Gang comedy. (The scene with photographer is straight Hal Roach stuff.) (I gotta say, George O’Brien’s resemblance to the rotten modern actor Nicolas Cage was my only
point of distraction watching Sunrise.) (As for CT Samuels, he’s kind of right, perhaps “one need not study the medium,” although I don’t know whether this could truly apply to such powerfully dramatic examples as the Last Laugh, Passion de Jeanne D’Arc, Dovzhenko’s Earth... or even Sunrise.)
Obviously, it bodes well for silent films if they can bring back lots of emotions, as few who’ve seen them at their best would argue ain’t possible with Chaplin, Keaton & Lloyd. And as for latter day movies affecting the viewing of oldies, another problem I’ve had is that I truly CANNOT recall the actor John Barrymore’s presence in the couple of his movies I seen, not at all, so much does he look just like Gene Wilder. But as further praise for Sunrise (see it again, pal), this: Besides two very briefly observed, nameless flapper girls in party scenes in “City Lights” (the laugher) and “The Freshman” (you’ll know who), I gotta say that Margaret Livingston in a few of her scenes gives the most vitally alive (in all caps sense) performance from a woman I’ve ever seen in the silents - her dance and a brief scene of her with lit cigarette. That the music creeps along with her movements in the outer night scene, making it seem like it’s not a silent at all, could be said to help. And the composed-for-the-film music is almost(ital.) as good as that in City Lights, some dramatic moments emphasized in what (along with any “Woman film” cliches) would soon be standard Hollywood fashion, I only half-forgot of orchestral flare-up as Janet Gaynor’s character observes something on either the canoe or table. I also praise Livingston such while remembering films I’ve seen with Garbo and Brooks (and Lillian Gish in “The Wind”). But I write this in the middle of catching Bresson’s first film, “Les Anges du Peche,” where I can find it, sans subtitling and with some ridiculous lady appearing on screen in some head-ribbon it’d take Rita Hayworth to pull off, must’ve been the height of fashion in Vichy France....
-Phil Roche
Offhand, the survival of silent film looks grim. The very best silent films didn't need sound. When I got the Criterion DVD of Dreyer's Joan of Arc, I had the option of watching it with a specially composed choral soundtrack or watching it with no sound. I opted for the latter and the film's impact was crushing. One of the half-dozen truly great films "of all time." Otherwise, Chaplin and Keaton remain utterly fresh viewing experiences. I've seen their films in theaters with live organists and chamber orchestras. I watched Eisenstein's October in 2017. It looked like an experimental film, though it was made "for the masses." Cinéma concrète. Audiences that call black-and-white films "gray movies" are beyond reach. Artists faced with the medium's technical limitations (even George Lucas got so frustrated he quit directing for a long time) found a way to triumph over them. I listened to Keaton talking (!) to Studs Terkel in 1960 and he made a good point. He and Chaplin and Lloyd spoke all the time in their films. Tati almost never speaks. Nor does Atkinson's Mr. Bean. And it comes off, I think, as unnatural. Whereas Chaplin, etc. were natural elements of the worlds they represented. I'll put Sunrise on my list, but I make no promises. Thanks for your comment.
DeleteAnd in Sunrise... I've remembered that the distinctive "orchestral score"-utilizing scene (there's at least a string quartet on this part) is of George O'Brien guiltily being reminded of how he's planned to kill his wife, seeing some "rushes" laid out somewhere (the cottontail thingums). What a cad!
DeleteI also can't forget Janet (so brutally upstaged as an actress here by Livingston) doing a Hungarian(?) waltz dance in a scene at the carnival right after her husband has captured and saved the drunken pig(!) Cuter than it sounds. A rustic kinda sexy she has, I guess. But the movie definitely needs to be seen at night, and with a lot of patience at hand. If you see that again, maybe I'll finally see La Strada! (I loved I Vitelloni.)
I agree that some don't need sound-or title cards. But tell that to Eisenstein! (I gotta say, the scene of him dressed as Christ in Potemkin will make that film a cornerstone historical moment if Europe ever goes truly Pagan!) I believe that the first time I saw JOA, it was some video cassette (Liberty St Video) where the speed may've not been right - definitely the case first time I saw Caligari. Criterion found some budding classical genius (Einhorn?) to do a choir-heavy score that really did work pretty well with it. But, in most cases, yes, even the pristine silent comedies, it really is having the right music that I think will ultimately ensure survival for these... pieces of history. (Chaplin understood as much, and while the narrated version of the Gold Rush may not be the one, it is very commendable what he did for the re-issue of "The Circus".)
ReplyDeleteAnd Lloyd's voice, I recall, sounded about as you'd expect... after 1971 he couldn't go after the film societies anymore (I've heard stories). I actually saw his granddaughter speak before a showing of "The Freshman" at a mini-cinefestival -
+I had meant to mention, as well, Jobyna Ralston as among the very powerful (none of the girls in Keaton's films compare despite their prettiness) silent actresses I've seen; the card in "Freshman" introduces her as "the kind of girl your mother must've been"(a capsule biography I read has her as anything but, although this midwestern broad, once arrested for lewd behavior, whatever that means, did manage to survive until 1969).
However, Keaton is someone whose magic dissipated with sound, at least until he got old enough to be a "veteran"-you see him in Sunset Boulevard and Limelight and can't help but love that he's there... you're right about Chaplin and Lloyd speaking, Keaton's character always has to be forced to explain himself ("well... uh... I")!
I have been some kinda film buff since about 2002 (the year I also saw Gene Kelly and Betsy Blair's daughter introduce "Singin in the Rain" for charity), and it was re-ignited during all the lockdowns. I had meant to ask, not facetiously either, if you've ever noticed that Filipina women like silent movies, or old movies in general, somewhat better potentially in a dating context. (I can't even imagine nowadays getting a girl off her phone to see something she WOULD like, such as "Rear Window" or even "Sunrise"!) I had missed "Gone With the Wind" until recently. I watched it with ma, who hadn't seen it in years, we each took the 3 hours out of our schedule, and it was very powerfully streamed with no commercials. The ending's almost as bad as "The Red Shoes," but I'll acknowledge, at least thru the first half, we're talking about a film of more emotional power (Macdonald called it the "slide trombone" of the film orchestra) than you think you'll ever again see anywhere... but then, so that's also true of a lot of soap operas. (I have a theory that Vivien Leigh's performance is where the dread "method acting" actually begins.) I've missed "The Searchers" too- I read a review of something where Simon dismissed anyone who loved it as being "beyond the critical pale" -yet I just read that Buddy Holly was inspired by that movie to write a song, "That'll Be The Day," that with its natural mystique (and Harold Lloyd-looking singer) became an important benchmark of what a group of a few guys with bass-guitar-'n-drums could do in the '50s as they helped create rock'n'roll -another now fading art:o- which, unfortunately, means I'll have to see the darn movie someday. At least it has the always-lovely Natalie Wood.... -phil
Betsy Blair! I listened to Marc Maron interview Javier Bardem recently and I learned that Juan Antonio Bardem was his uncle! Death of a Cyclist and 2 or 3 other great Spanish films. It reminded me of a YouTube interview in which Betsy Blair spoke about being in Bardem's Calle Mayor (a worthy reflection of I Vitelloni) when shooting was interrupted by his arrest. They held up production, losing money all the way, until he was released and they could finish the film. I wrote about it - about how impossible it was to imagine a Hollywood production being suspended while the producers waited for the director to, say, recover from an accident. It would never happen. An assistant would finish the film and no one would be the wiser. But they waited for Bardem (an outspoken conmunist in Franco's Spain - that took cajones) to get out of jail.
Delete"That'll Be the Day" - ha! Didn't know the Buddy Holly connection. The day the music died. They made a whole movie - documentary - about a Don McLean song. He's been coasting on those laurels for 50 years. I heard the song - a scratchy old record - once played in a cathouse in South Korea full of sailors and marines. The song brought back memories - memories of trying to figure out what the hell the lyrics were supposed to mean.
The Searchers. A film I cheeted to as a boy, when killing injuns wasn't a bad thing. Now I find it insulting - even to my ignorance.
I've shown Keaton and Chaplin films to appreciative Filipino audiences. Filipino comedies are so primitive! Mack Sennett would scream. They're lately using a horrid "laugh track" in their comedies that's nothing but the same guy laughing himself hoarse repeatedly. Dolphy had talent. He also had an unbelievably overactive libido - at last count he had 19 kids by 6 different women. And the Philippines is a Catholic country. When I look at Filipino films from the 60s it makes me wonder at what a lost paradise it was. Pre-Marcos!