A couple of nights ago, I was opening Kent Jones’ terrific (at least what I’ve read of it so far) book Physical Evidence: Selected Film Criticism when I stumbled upon this paragraph in the Introduction:
“The pietistic strain in movie appreciation that makes a fetish out of moviegoing itself (and that consequently gets movies and the experience of watching them on big screens hopelessly confused) is doomed to a bittersweet finale, judging from the decreasing attendance figures and relative disinterest in the intellectual currents around cinema. Many writers are desperate for movies to mean something in the ‘national conversation’ that they simply don’t anymore and probably never will again.”
Reading that last night was a “holy shit” wake-up call to me; I am guilty as charged and Kent is 100% right. It’s strange, I always walk a tightrope on this blog, not writing much if at all about the films I do not like, reluctant to say what I think about certain movies for fear that it might conflict with my work in programming. In that way, I am constantly feeling constrained here, not free to express my true opinions. That, and the pressure to update the blog in a semi-regular (*ha*) fashion, have lead to a kind of sloppiness here that I wish I could overcome.
Instead of personal triumph, what I have done is turn my sense of these complicated constraints into a romantic narrative for myself, bringing the experience of seeing films, or as Kent says “making a fetish out of moviegoing itself”, into my own personal story. My understanding of cinema is, in many ways, as a dominant strain of my life’s narrative, from the smell of theaters to the walk to and from the red ticket taker’s ropes to the music on my iPod on the subway ride home, and this idea has become an impediment to my development as a thinker. I watch movies to feel, to contemplate, to get to know the world, to get lost in the dark. This romantic idea has grown, I fear, into an incomplete system for writing about movies. I want that to change.
I was looking back over this blog’s first five years (anniversary coming in June…!), and I realized how much of what has been written here has been impatient, a series of emotional responses that have the misfortune of being inhibited by my personal fears of whatever audience may be reading. It is not for a lack of want or an editor that this detachment happens, rather that I seem to be in love with film at any cost. And while that romance may never die, I think it is time to act the responsible partner. Reading Kent’s thoughts felt like a finger pointed directly toward me, one I should only hope to continue to point at myself from this moment forward. I want to be a better writer. I want to be a better thinker. A promise to myself, then, to do what is required to make it so.
Last month, a good friend offered me the opportunity to fill in and write an article for Hamptons Magazine on Stuart Townsend’s Battle In Seattle. I jumped at the opportunity and had a great time writing something that is pretty much the polar opposite of what I usually do on the blog (and that is a good thing, I think.) The result? A writing gig in print, no less, and the experience of having my work edited for maybe the first time ever (weird feeling.) Then again, I got the cover! Ok, let’s be honest, Charlize Theron got the cover… but hey, I’ll take it.
I am really hopeful that I can do more of this in the future… it was very enjoyable. In the meantime, you can find the article here (it’s online for a limited time) or better yet, get to your newsstand and grab a hard copy of the magazine in preparation for your upcoming trip to The Hamptons International Film Festival. And don’t forget to tell them The Back Row Manifesto sent ya!
(photograph by Jeff Vespa)
(Thanks again, Rabbi…)
Just a quick note to say Happy Birthday to the blog...It’s our 4th anniversary! Today marks the start of the 5th year of The Back Row Manifesto. This blog has been a really great way to keep my thinking about films organized, a place to respond to the ideas of others and to feel part of a community of individuals passionate about cinema. A huge thanks to Eugene, James, Brian and Brian at indieWIRE for allowing me to participate and for building this network of thinkers and writers who keep us all informed and inspired.
It has been an incredibly hectic few weeks for me; The Sarasota Film Festival lost our Executive Director, and I’ve been traveling from Michigan to Ohio To Brooklyn To Florida to Brooklyn to Massachusetts and back home again, all the while trying to stay in touch with what is going on in Sarasota. Needless to say, the Film Festival will continue on, and we’re just now recovering from the change, enough so to begin the process of analyzing the festival, recommending some changes here and there, and getting started on planning. It has been a ridiculously busy time, and so I haven’t been able to see a film, let alone concentrate enough to write about movies. That should change in the coming weeks, as there are some very exciting movies coming to NYC, most notably a week-long run of Jacques Rivette’s Celine and Julie Go Boating at BAM (Florence Almozini has such great taste), which kicks off a 40th Anniversary retrospective of the Cannes Directors’ Fortnight and Jake Perlin’s second Film Desk release, Charlie Chaplin’s Monsieur Verdoux at Film Forum. In the meantime, it’s nice to celebrate a little on-line longevity and say thank you again to everyone for reading and making this (very) little blog worth writing. I’ll be back in the swing of things soon.
There is a plague sweeping its way across the face of film writing, an anxious, foot-tapping idea that squirms and writhes its way into the sentences and paragraphs of some of our best minds; The length of a movie has become an international critical obsession.
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