How you see it

While I am extremely eager to move ahead from the discussion of just how egregiously I have sinned against Nathan Rabin, there is within that quarrel what some attorneys might refer to as a "sidebar" which I think might be worth addressing. The commenter and blogger known as That Fuzzy Bastard has taken me to task for criticizing Rabin for reviewing Roman Polanski's What? from a bootleg DVD, displayed on his computer, whereas I myself assessed it using a legit Severin disc mastered from a "vault print." Now I've gone on record as having thoroughly mixed feelings about bootlegs and generally eschewing them. And I wrote my objections in a hyperbolic tone that I thought signified "look what a schmuck I am," but for the Fuzzy Bastard screamed "get off my lawn." And yes, that was in there too, but more self-consciously than the Bastard is willing to give me credit for. But I see I'm already getting away from my point.

The Bastard accuses me in one comment of confusing "meaning" with "visual competence," and expands on this notion in another comment by saying, "Should Rabin have shelled out for a more pristine version? It doesn't sound like the visual difference would have altered his impressions at all—the story didn't add up, and that's that."

It's a simple enough proposition on one level. But work with me for a minute. A panned-and-scanned, scratched-up print of L'avventura as seen on a 13-inch-screen on a UHF station is not going to come off anything like the masterpiece that its plays as on a big screen, or even on the Criterion DVD. 

No, I'm not comparing L'avventura to What?. Like I said, work with me for a minute. My first experience of Alphaville was an English-dubbed version shoehorned into a 90 minute slot on Channel 7's graveyard shift. I watched it on a 12-inch Sony with a half-broken antenna. Even then I knew it was something special, just as Martin Scorsese knew The Life And Death Of Colonel Blimp was special when he saw it, bowdlerized and in black and white, on Channel 9's Million Dollar Movie. And then we saw better versions of those films, and knew we were right. 

The Criterion DVD of Allan Baron's Blast of Silence is way better than the Betamax cassette recorded off of a Pittsburgh TV station was. The Image DVD of Franco's Female Vampire (in case you were wondering where the very refined screen grab above comes from) is way better than the Video Search Of Miami cassette of the film, even if the DVD does remove the hardcore inserts. Tati's Playtime is a different film in 70 mm than it is in 35 mm, than it is on DVD, than it is on Blu-ray disc.

My feeling is that if you intend to write seriously about a film you might want to take the trouble of finding the best version/presentation of the film available. And I do think that the visual difference between the boot and the Severin DVD would have altered Rabin's impressions. I believe it would have actually increased his dislike of the film, on the grounds so much wonderful scenery and cinematography was put in the service of such creative sludge. 

And I wouldn't much argue with such an assessment.

Comments

[frankbooth]

I agree and would take it even further -- presentation is so important to some films that you DON'T always know you're watching something special. The Passenger left me cold the first time I saw a crappy, cropped, panned-and-scanned cassette version of it. So did Performance. I later saw these films on the big screen and on DVD, respectively, and felt as if they were entirely new to me.

[willie]

my god get a life

[Nick]

"My feeling is that if you intend to write seriously about a film you might want to take the trouble of finding the best version/presentation of the film available."

Yes, but that entire series is not trying to do that. It's an often tongue-in-cheek, often personal and anecdotal journey through some of the most notorious failures in cinema. If you want to judge Rabin's prowess as a critic, read his actual reviews, both of film and music. He's a good writer but his strength lies in the personal essay, which he transforms most every subject into and obviously lead him to get a memior published. His key contributions to the A.V. Club are all guided tours through some terrain, whether it be flops, country music, hip-hop, etc.

I'm with you on the value of seeing the film in the best possible manner available, especially if you're reviewing it, but in this instance I think he was merely meeting a deadline and wanted to get it out while the Polanski news was still on people's minds. You're now a blogger, Glenn, and you can take all the time in the world (save for the Foreign DVD Report) to procure and view the best available copy of whatever films you feel like seeing or writing about (which I enjoy by the way). Rabin's generating tons of content daily, it's a different thing.

And if I may be the first to respond to "willie": Fuck off.

[Account Deleted]

I don't think you can ever appreciate the full majesty and glory of 2.35:1 unless you've seen a butchered pan and scan version.

[Jaime]

So, after all is said and done with appropriate/inappropriate presentation and sufficient/insufficient degrees of/approaches to not liking WHAT, what happens if you actually really like it? It's actually one of my favorite Polanski films. I have to sit in the corner, do 10 Our Fathers, what? For the record I saw it on one of Mondo Kim's questionable VHS copies, undoubtedly recorded from some Euro TV network, but it was on 'Scope.

[The Siren]

I am delicately sidestepping the other parts of this controversy, but the question of ideal viewing conditions is very interesting to me. As someone who loves the old stuff best I frequently find myself watching films in less than ideal circumstances. Last night I caught the pretty much unavailable Letty Lynton on Youtube and I can't say the format did the movie any favors, but I am still glad I watched. If something is hard enough to find I will catch it almost any way I can.

And naturally when the opportunity arises to see a "real" version I will take it. But you don't have to have a good print, good TV and correct aspect ratio to fall in love with a movie. You acknowledge that yourself when you describe Scorsese watching "Blimp" in b&W and yourself catching Alphaville on UHF. I saw a lot of movies on my parents' 13-inch B&W TV when I was sick. Like a lot of things experienced in childhood, those movies stayed with me more vividly than many I saw in reclining stadium-style seats with state-of-the-art projection and sound.

And years later, when I saw my first foreign film on a big screen, it was Les Enfants du Paradis. But I use the "big screen" term loosely because it was the small side theatre at the old Bleecker Street Cinema. "Don't Look Back" was playing the big venue and at certain moments during the Carne film the sound would bleed through the walls, so Barrault did one pantomime routine to the tune of (if memory serves, and it was pretty unforgettable) "Maggie's Farm."

I treasure those viewing experiences. Hacked up and stolen any way I could get them, they were all the more precious.

[Glenn Kenny]

@ Nick: Yes, I appreciate the personal/provisional nature of the "My Year In Flops" series and understand that Rabin's soliciting reader suggestions and such. Again, my purpose in writing the above was not to further pillory him—and again, let me point out that while he may not be a favorite of mine, I don't have anything against him, don't find him incompetent, and don't want a war with him, etc.—but to outline a general principle and point out a small irony that might have occurred had it been applied to a viewing of the Polanski film.

@ Jaime: You need not sit in a corner. The picture has its defenders, and while they're scant in number, they're all smart—see the great David Cairns' comment at the Auteurs' post.

[Jaime]

I'm with Siren, and don't want to restate too much. Some of you may have known the glorious Kim's Video, they had a lot of treasures not available elsewhere (some of which I provided, such as Jerry Lewis's THREE ON A COUCH, Gerd Oswald's BRAINWASHED, and Leo McCarey's MAKE WAY FOR TOMORROW...all amazing), so if they didn't look like 35mm Technicolor IB prints, it is what it is.

That said, while there's no "Platonic ideal" for film presentation, I have to say I assign certain degree of mistrust to my reactions to home viewings. This is as a result of a variety of Scorsese/"Blimp" experiences, only I didn't always know in my heart that the film was great. Best example is Altman's MCCABE & MRS MILLER, which I saw on pan & scan VHS back in the day, and I thought it was the worst movie ever made. When I saw it a few years ago in a good 35mm print, it was.....as if I had no clue, such beautiful construction, images, sound, etc.

Only one hard and fast rule for me that I'll NEVER break: 'Scope films in OAR, no compromises. Can't stress this enough.

[The Siren]

Jaime makes an excellent point. Some movies are not so hard to appreciate on a small scale in harsh conditions; others are just killed stone dead by it. "Lawrence of Arabia" for me was one such. On pan-and-scan VHS I liked it but thought it majorly overrated. At the Ziegfeld -- need I say more?

Still, I am also thinking of the scene in The Spirit of the Beehive where the children watch Frankenstein projected onto a sheet...and it changes their lives.

Then again, I did see Spirit of the Beehive on a big screen.

[The Chevalier]

I once tried watching Alphaville on VHS. Didn't make it past the first 10 minutes. Maybe it gets better on 35mm. But I'd make you pay for my ticket.

[Fuzzy Bastarrd]

I'd agree with Jamie---bootleg, YouTube, dissolving VHS, however you can see a movie is how you manage to see it, but there is a certain mistrust of one's reaction built into the imperfect home experience. Some movies are nearly unwatchable without proper presentation, like Antonion's, which are more painted than written, or Tarkovsky's, which really require the space and focus of a theater (although Stalker, for whatever reason, seems to work quite well on video). But those are the exception; like most cinephiles, I've fallen in love with plenty of films after seeing fuzzy, pan-and-scan VHS copies.

I think it's like the AM radio test that rock singles once had to live up to---lots of things sound good on a hi-fi, but if it sounds good over a cheap AM radio, then you've got a hit.

[Brian]

Siren, that story about LES ENFANTS and "Maggie's Farm" is incredible-- it almost makes me wish someone would do that as a mash-up and post it to YouTube.

I'm very much in sympathy with Glenn's general point about form and meaning, but have to admit that I also treasure the hiss and pop of the prints of early '30s films that TCM sometimes screens, or that I saw on VHS way back when. I don't know that it undercuts the idea of the "best available copy"-- those may indeed BE the best available of those films-- but I just like the grain and texture that it provides. It feels like history's coming to be through sound and vision.

[jbryant]

Siren: This won't help you over there in New York, but anyone in the L.A. area whose interested in LETTY LYNTON might check out Eddie Brandt's Saturday Matinee video store in North Hollywood. As of a couple of years ago anyway, they had LETTY LYNTON on a "loaner" video (they'll loan you a commercially unavailable rarity for every title you rent). It was quite a good print, and I enjoyed the film very much -- it's mildly shocking even today.

This is also how I saw the ultra-rare THE CONSTANT NYMPH and Leisen's KITTY. Great place.

[jbryant]

Jeez, did I really use "whose" for "who's"? Twenty lashes with a wet noodle.