A word or two about "The Master" and 70mm

NOT Lawrence of Arabia.

I don't want to make too big a deal of this, as God forbid I should get another scolding from a commenter on account of writing too much about other critics, and also God knows I prefer to contemplate the critic I'm about to cite as little as possible. However. As the topic is becoming what some people like to call "a thing," I have one "thing" to say about it. Writing in the mysterious publication City Arts, Armond White grouses "All that ballyhoo about The Master being shot in 70mm means nothing in the digital cinema age (too many oppressive home-video close-ups waste technology specifically designed to give tactility to what might be lost in distant scope). Praising this shows ignorance about cinematography. Instead, the smart-about-movies crowd should be looking at Paul W.S. Anderson’s aesthetics." As is usual with White and, to be frank, everybody else, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing; the idea that the 70mm "format" was "specifically designed to give tactility to what might be lost in distant scope" sounds real nice and convincing (although copy editors and many other persons of literacy might find the specific use of the word "scope" in this case questionable, but that's Armond) but is not easily definitively provable. The cited "tactility" is obviously a feature of what the higher-resolution 65mm film frame can deliver but good luck with finding a quote from Herman Casler in which the word comes up. "Praising this shows ignorance about cinematography." Okay, Armond, if you say so. There certainly are a lot of film critics who are ignorant about cinematography, not to mention editing, and who judge films solely on what they hear and very rarely what they see, as some of the more vexing notices on Cosmopolis testify. Of course White himself, judging strictly by his copy, has barely a thimbleful of tech knowledge himself. He hates digital, except when one of his pets uses it. In his incredibly puerile "Battle of the Andersons" (anyone who isn't twelve will be no more than momentarily amused by the fact that two directors with similar names and polarized generic characteristics premiered films on the same day, but White's gotta make a thesis out of it) he praises Resident Evil: Retribution director Paul W.S. Anderson because his frame "activates the screen’s fields, planes, and composition quadrants." That happens a lot in Cronenberg and Fincher movies too, but those guys are unclean, because they're cynical. (Incidentally, I rather like Paul W.S. Anderson's movies, just in case you're wondering.)

But I'm losing the plot here and I said I'd be brief. It's true that if you measure the visual scheme of The Master against that of what is considered to be the 70mm film nonpareil—that is, The Sound of Music—oh wait, no, Lawrence of Arabia, or is it 2001: A Space Odyssey?—then The Master is, yes, a little different; not a lot in the way of "sweeping" action, and no one in it plots a raid on Akaba or kills an astronaut. And it's true, in The Master there ARE a lot of closeups. Are they, per White "home-video close-ups?" Hard to say. White evokes the "home-video close-up" as if its an item in the lingua franca. The more you think about the term, the less sense it makes.

But anyway, to complain that 70mm is not appropriate to Anderson's visual scheme is simple arbitrary dogma, nothing more. It makes as much sense as to say Richard Avedon ought not have taken large-format photos of those post-Okies 'cause as subjects they're not majestic enough. Why did they shoot The Buster Keaton Story in VistaVision, anyway? The reason this "matters" (oh dear how I don't like that word) or, to put it more palatably to myself, why it's a topic of particular pertinence at this point in time is because Anderson has chosen to use 70mm at a moment that many are defining as a turning point in the history of motion pictures, that is, in J. Hoberman's phrase (which serves as the title of his new and as always provocative and brilliant book) "film after film." As digital and its discontents seems to coat the world of cinema like some intractable virus (at least in the formulation of some), Anderson's use of 70mm strikes many as a "statement." I don't think it's as extreme a statement as some are taking it. As meticulous as he is, Anderson is a practical man. The Master is being projected digitally in most venues, in a 35mm print in other venues. In interviews he has discussed what attracted him to the format, which is, paraphrased briefly, the beauty of the image it produces. He acknowledges its impractical side. But never does he discuss his use of the format in terms of throwing down, as it were, against the digital tide. He investigated the format, liked what he saw, and took the opportunity to use it. What I think The Master points to from a practical angle in the bigger pictue of things, finally, is the future of celluloid as a kind of specialty format. 

I interviewed the musician Robert Fripp in 1992 about the challenges of getting the catalog of his legendary rock band King Crimson into the digital realm. Fripp is a punishingly intelligent and exacting man, but he, too, is a practical one, and after insisting that the "mechanics of reproducing music" did not interest him "at all" he displayed a staggering command of those mechanics. And at one point he mourned—provisionally—the death of vinyl. "I accept that people with real ears probably would prefer vinyl to CDs. However, if you use vinyl, you've got to have a superb pressing plant, you've got to have superb metal work. And you're not going to get it." Several things have happened since 1992. For one thing, digital reproduction of music has advanced to the point that (and I allow that this is in itself an arguable point but bear with me here) debates over whether analog remains a superior reproduction method tend to rely, invariably and insolubly, on intangibles that rely entirely on subjectivity. The other thing that has happened is that vinyl has improved also. It's such a niche format, what with the 180 gram vinyl and similar concerns, that it is now HIGHLY likely that if you opt for vinyl now you'll be getting something from a superb (albeit small-scale) pressing plant, with superb metal work.  If we're to take the glass-half-full approach with respect to movies, their making and their preservation, we should be able to anticipate a future where the digital realm continues to show improvement, and where celluloid reproduction is accomplished on a consistently high level. I allow that things probably will NOT pan out this way, but what are you going to do. 

Over a decade ago, my friend Harry Allen wrote a piece for Premiere about the various issues of digital technology that, unfortunately and for reasons that had nothing to do with the quality of the piece (it was superb) was never published. I may ask Harry for a copy, and for permission to run it here; I think his prophecies could stir up some interesting discussion.

Comments

[That Fuzzy Bastard]

Now everyone's making me sad that we'll never have an Altman adaptation of "Mason & Dixon", which could be packaged with MCCABE and NASHVILLE and INDIANS for eternal awesomeness.

[BLH]

Home-video close-ups? So I shouldn't feel too bad about never having seen a Sternberg film projected theatrically?

[Joel Bocko]

Oliver & co.,

Ozu's seems the odd man out in that trio because his films aren't really transcendent, and don't seek transcendence; they are about stoicism and graceful endurance. If they really 'hung out' I see Ozu getting along better with Dreyer who strikes me as more humble than Bresson, although maybe I'm wrong there.

[Joel Bocko]

A question for Glenn & his readers - what did you think of the dueling essays of David Thomson and David Denby in the New Republic? Both touch on the how-new-technology-is-changing-film-aesthetics with Denby striking an apocalyptic note and Thomson more cautiously optimistic. I seem to recall Glenn disdaining David D's angsty earnestness a few years back, but this piece contained so many right-on observations I felt myself literally cheering along while reading. But I think he kind of drops the ball in detecting the silver lining; meanwhile Thomson's observations about Man with a Movue Camera and its relevance today seemed on target in that regard.

[Joel Bocko]

Nuthin', folks?

I realize a Swanberg-Faraci fistfight speaks louder than words on the subject of cinematic decline but still, those articles are worth a read/comment. So self-bump and a couple links to make it easier (though hopefully they don't get the comment blocked):

http://www.tnr.com/article/books-and-arts/magazine/107212/has-hollywood-murdered-the-movies

http://www.tnr.com/article/books-and-arts/magazine/107218/not-dead-just-dying

[Zach]

@ Joel - I haven't finished Thomson's piece, but Denby's was a mixed bag, I thought. I agree that there is trouble in the American movie business, but I'm not sure that Denby diagnosis is as accurate as it could be (for instance, his deprecatory stance towards what he terms "fantasy" seems to be misguided; fantasy, if done with artfulness and imagination, is essential to art). I think Denby's right to cast aspersions on what he calls the "conglomerate aesthetic" but he then retreats from what I think the obvious critique is, which is that conglomerate, mass-scale entertainment is a natural byproduct of a conglomerate, mass-scale economy. And he also runs a little inconsistently around the idea of cinema being nuanced, rooted in a place, and "local," while at the same time longing for a kind of cinema that can appeal to "everybody" or, perhaps, the USA. So my first impression is that it's a bit confused, as a piece, but motivated by some good ideas. I think his comments regarding emotional engagement, and especially the way in which the depiction of space has become degraded, are pretty much right on the money.

[Joel Bocko]

I think that, while it is missing a few components (particularly how the cinema might be cured of its ailments) this is one of the best diagnoses of what ails contemporary film that I've ever read. I suspect that the mixed message about local vs. universal is down to Denby longing for the latter but feeling he has to pay lip service to the former; that if he's going to condemn the contemporary forest, he has to at least spare some of the trees. Denby himself kind of notes this when he mentions exceptions to the general trend but remarks, "not everything a great director wants to say can be said for $3 million" or something to the effect.

Although I share some of Denby's implicit frustration with excessive narrowness, I'd argue that vision and focus need not be dictated by budget, but that's where I think Thomson's last page comes in handy. Make sure you check that out; 3 pages in his tone changes course - up til then he seemed like he was playing 'I'm-so-over-cinephile' shtick but then he goes into an interesting, different direction.

[Cadavra]

For the record, I have absolutely no desire to be Paul Thomas Anderson.

I want to be Mel Brooks.