“Finally, I would enjoin the reader—confiding in him utterly—to believe that the one thing mankind has ever created in a spirit of self-surrender is the artistic image. Perhaps the meaning of all human activity lies in artistic consciousness, in the pointless and selfless creative act?”—Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting In Time
Today, The Film Society of Lincoln Center opens a week-long retrospective of the films of Andrei Tarkovsky. I have been seeing quite a bit of interest in the series online the past few days, and it warms my heart to no end to see so many people, wrapped in the warmth of busy summer days in New York City, interested in seeing Tarkovsky’s work. It fills me with hope to see his name on Twitter and on blogs, written in magazines and newspapers. I don’t enjoy “ranking” artists or putting them into some sort of hierarchy; art is wonderful because it offers so many different and unique perspectives, a lens through which we can view the world in a new way. But having said that, in terms of images filmed by a movie camera and projected onto a screen, there has never been an image maker who delivers on the poetic promise of the cinema like Andrei Tarkovsky. His films will live forever, the great artist that allows cinema to be mentioned among the fine arts, the name that we cinephiles keep in our breast pockets to reveal when confronted with the degredation of the art of film. Anyone who believes, as I do, that film must be preserved, seen, discussed, curated and presented alongside painting, sculpture, music, dance and photography as a living, breathing artform will be heartened by the fact that Tarkovsky’s films exist in the world. They are our masterpieces, the most wonderous and beautifully made films in the form’s brief history.
That is high praise to be sure, and there are certainly other filmmakers who have made great and unbelievable films, but Tarkovsky’s stamp on the world is indelible; fighting contsantly against censorship and political threats, exiled late in his life, fighting cancer as he finished his final film, Tarkovsky’s experience of life was inseparable from his stories. It is no wonder he was interested in the life of the great Russian icon painter Andrei Rublev. Here was a character whose own faith and devotion to beauty and his craft in a violent, vulgar world lead to some of the most profound images in Russian history. So it was with Tarkovsky, whose death by lung cancer (considered by some to have been the result of radiation poisoning by the KGB, and others to be the result of having shot Stalker near a toxic chemical plant) at age 54 marked the end of his cinema, in a way. While a filmmaker like Robert Bresson lives on in the work of the dozens of artists who imitate his naturalism, Tarkovsky remains inimitable, a crystal voice that is as powerful today as it was during his lifetime, undiluted by the duplication and repitition of images and techniques. You simply do not see images like Tarkovsky’s in any other films, and that fact, that respect, allows the movies to retain their freshness and power over viewers today.
If you, like me, are interested in Tarkovsky’s work, I cannot recommend his book Sculpting In Time enough; it is the most important book ever written on the soul of the cinema, the synthesis of the artist’s aesthetic and professional concerns. It is essential for anyone who cares about film. As one of those people, I fear I live in a fantasy world sometimes, a place that values the things I care about enough that I would be allowed to spend my days and nights thinking about and immersing myself in the world of ideas, in images and sounds, in creating a bridge between history and my own life. Andrei Tarkovsky didn’t wait for permission and didn’t care about external value, he made that world for himself, and in a very short period of time, reimagined cinema.
Radio silence on this blog the past few weeks, but with the end of the Newport International Film Festival and a long overdue family trip to the midwest, I have been way out of the loop for the entire month of June. One of the highlights of the trip was visit to a newly refurbished Drive-in (yes, that’s right) in my hometown of Flint, MI. It was actually pretty funny as we learned two important lessons:
—Although Michigan is in the Eastern time zone, it is hundreds of miles west of New York City. Therefore, dusk comes much, MUCH later in Michigan. This is crucial information when planning to see a film that starts at “dusk” (as you will see).
—Never run the battery on your car (to listen to radio sound at a Drive-in) while charging an iPhone. That combination equals dead battery. We found out the hard way. Not surprisingly, it happens all the time and the theater had a portable battery charger on hand to jump the car. All fixed in less than 5 minutes, if rather embarrassing.
We arrived at 7:45 PM (gates at 7:30) and found ourselves one of about two or three cars in the place. We asked what time the film started, assuming dusk would come quickly, but no; nothing would begin until 9:30. In talking about it afterward, I guess it is true that Daylight Savings Time has made the Drive-in a very difficult prospect, even in a car crazy place like Michigan; the summer is the only time that works to show movies, and the days are incredibly long, pushing the start time to well past 9:00 PM.
With all of the extra time on our hands, we decided to take a few pictures of the place an do some exploring. By the time dusk finally arrived, the theater was crowded and we took in Up, which I thought was great. This was my son’s first moviegoing experience, and it was ideal; wrapped in a blanket, wearing his PJ’s and nursing a bottle, he watched the entire film. Not many kids can say their first film was the Opening Night film at Cannes, but Nico seems a natural movie fan (*ha*). As a father, I remember my own first trip to the Drive-in (to see Walt Disney’s Gus) and love the memory of it, so it was nice to be able to share a bygone moviegoing experience. Pictures below (note: we honored the theater’s request to not photograph the screen once the film started.)
I was recently reading Philip Gourevitch’s New Yorker article of May 4 (regsitration req’d), describing his recent return to Rwanda, more than a decade after the publication his incredible We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families. It was a powerful reminder of the trauma of the Rwandan genocide and it provides an excellent context for the film and the changes that have taken place since Munyurangabo was completed. A podcast with Gourevitch is up now at the New Yorker website. Give a listen; Rwanda continues to be an important story, one that is always changing as the people grow, develop and move forward as a nation.
This past autumn, I met my friend Nick Dawson in Manhattan for a press screening of Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York and a post-screening dinner. Nick was in the throes of completing his book Being Hal Ashby: Life Of A Hollywood Rebel and I learned not only about the book itself, but about Nick’s personal journey in writing it (a story I will save for Nick to convey on his own terms). As the conversation continued, I began thinking about how I might work with Nick to create an event around his book, around Hal Ashby’s work (which, to this day, remains widely underappreciated), and try to use the platform of the Sarasota Film Festival to do something special for one of my favorite filmmakers.
Nick Dawson’s Being Hal Ashby
On April 4, we’re hosting our festival’s annual Filmmaker’s Tribute at the Sarasota Opera House and this year, in addition to awarding our festival’s competition and audience awards, we’re hosting a salute to the life and work of Hal Ashby. We’ve put together a strong retrospective of Ashby’s films, we’re hosting an onstage conversation about Ashby’s life and work with Jon Voight, Burt Young and Illeana Douglas (among others) and we’re creating a Tribute film that draws from many different aspects of Ashby’s life and work. Hal’s daughter Leigh MacManus will be joining us to receive the festival’s Master of Cinema Award (our festival’s highest honor) on her late father’s behalf.
One of this things we’re most excited about? During his research on the book (as I understand it), Nick and Ms. MacManus uncovered a never-before-seen Director’s Cut of Ashby’s Lookin’ To Get Out. With Nick’s help, we contacted Warner Brothers, who had recently transfered the print for an upcoming DVD release of the film (later this spring), and we had an HDCam transfer made. The Director’s Cut of Lookin’ To Get Out screens Friday, April 3 at 7:15 PM and Jon Voight and Burt Young, who star in the film, will be attending the screening and doing a Q&A afterward.
Our good friends over at The Movie Geeks United podcast have already jumped all over this story, interviewing Voight, Young and Nick Dawson for a recent podcast. You can listen here and get ready for what should be a wonderful salute to a great filmmaker.
THE FILMS Harold and Maude, Saturday March 28, 2:00 PM Shampoo, Sunday, March 29th 12:00 PM The Last Detail, Tuesday, March 31st 1:00 PM The Slugger’s Wife, Wednesday, April 1 7:00 PM Bound For Glory, Thursday April 2, 1:00 PM The Landlord, Friday April 3, 5:30 PM Lookin’ To Get Out (The Director’s Cut) Friday, April 3rd, 7:15 PM Coming Home, Saturday April 4, 12:30 PM Being There, Sunday, April 5, 2:00 PM
TRIBUTE
Join us as we salute the life and work of Hal Ashby at the Filmmaker’s Tribute, Saturday April 4, 2009 at 7:00 PM at the Sarasota Opera House.
Jon Voight, Illeana Douglas Burt Young to attend, moderated by Nick Dawson.
BOOK SIGNING
Nick Dawson will be signing copies of his new book, Being Hal Ashby: Life of A Hollywood Rebel at Sarasota News and Books on Saturday, April 4, 2009 at 11:00 AM.
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