Discussing books on movies … almost as good as watching them, and without the sticky floors!

This week I’m continuing my look at books released by the British Film Institute in their BFI FILM CLASSICS and BFI MODERN CLASSICS series. Proving that this series covers a wide range of genres, I’ll examine their studies of a once unfairly maligned horror classic from 1982, one of the best comedies of the 1970s and the most financially successful movie of all time.

BFI MODERN CLASSICS: THE THING by Anne Billson

There comes a point in the life of any young cineaste where he finds himself standing on the precipice of an obvious generation gap; the great divide resulting from either his own distaste for a near-universally heralded classic or his love of a critically maligned modern masterpiece. At this point, he must decide if he should deny his own tastes and only repeat the opinions of the old guard or rebel and defend his own heretical views.

In 1997, Anne Billson chose the latter when she wrote her 90+ page essay on John Carpenter’s THE THING. In her wonderful introduction, she takes note of the critical response the film was met with upon its release in 1982. Virtually all of the popular critics at that time dismissed the film as a dull science-fiction thriller, whose only notable aspect was its frequent examples of repulsive and off-putting gore. Many of them snidely put it down as “ALIEN on ice,” and took pains to note how inferior it was to the 1951 movie on which it was based.

Looking back on both films today, one can clearly see that these reviewers were either high, brain-dead or insane, and Billson is only too eager to prove it.

Adopting the same synoptic format used by Camille Paglia for her essay on THE BIRDS, Billson proves more than capable not only to defend the once-abhorred film, but effectively demonstrate that it is both an unusual and important cinematic achievement. Not surprisingly, in the 10 years that have followed the release of her essay, the general consensus amongst film buffs has turned in her direction. As fun as the 1951 original is, one cannot ignore how dated it has become or that – in the end – its titular monster turns out to be nothing more than GUNSMOKE’s Sheriff Dillon in a bald cap, while the 1982 remake is that rare film capable of invoking true terror in even the most jaded of modern movie audiences.

This book in many ways serves as the perfect example of everything that is good about the BFI project. While both series are filled with examples of books about the usual suspects everyone would expect – including, funny enough, THE USUAL SUSPECTS – they clearly weren’t afraid to publish a book about a nearly forgotten horror movie that was then revered by only a handful of dedicated genre fans. It turns out that their gamble paid off and Carpenter’s film has finally gotten the critical resurrection it deserved. Any true fan of the horror genre needs to own this book.

BFI FILM CLASSICS: ANNIE HALL by Peter Cowie

I always find myself annoyed whenever I read a review for one of Woody Allen’s less artistically successful pictures, where the reviewer seems to take a special delight in announcing to the world that the director has officially lost it and can no longer be considered a filmmaker of consequence. The reason for my annoyance is that anyone with an ounce of perspective and any knowledge of Allen’s filmography, knows full well that it’s only a matter of time before he releases another SWEET AND LOWDOWN or MATCH POINT and those very same critics who once pronounced him dead will bend over backwards to announce his artistic resurrection.

The truth is that Allen, like Steven Spielberg, is a cinematic workhorse, making at least one movie a year since he debuted with TAKE THE MONEY AND RUN in 1969. It is inevitable that any filmmaker as prolific as Allen will release as many failures as successes in the course of his career. To make an analogy that the famously sports-obsessed director would appreciate, even the greatest of present-day home-run hitters doesn’t average more than just over three hits out of ten at bats. And when one of your homeruns is 1977’s ANNIE HALL, you can be forgiven for strike-outs like THE CURSE OF THE JADE SCORPION, ANYTHING ELSE and SCOOP.

In interviews, Allen enjoys insisting that when ANNIE HALL won the Oscar for Best Picture (famously beating out STAR WARS for the honor), it was the lowest-grossing movie to have ever won the award. Author Peter Cowie wastes no time dismissing this piece of self-deprecating trivia, telling us that the movie’s worldwide gross in 1977 would be equivalent to $100,000,000 today. Unlike many critics, who would dismiss such information as unnecessary trivia, Cowie understands that for a work of this kind to be as entertaining as it is intellectually stimulating, an author has to fit in as much history as they do commentary.

In his 55-page essay on the film – which helpfully includes a three-page glossary of cultural references for those readers presumably raised by wolves – Cowie capably manages to inform us how the movie was made, what kind of impact it had on the medium and the culture at large and why it remains so important – and hilarious – today.

Cowie wisely spends time explaining how the film serves as a bridge between the slapstick/surreal comedies Allen began his career with and the more serious and intellectually ambitious – sometimes even pretentious – films that immediately followed it, with the result that HALL stands alone as his most singular achievement: the perfect Woody Allen film.

Unlike other filmmakers who are only too willing to provide insight and documentation on their work, Allen seems more than happy to forget about his films once he has finished with them, which means his fans have to look to works like Cowie’s slim book if they want any help going beyond what they can see onscreen. For that reason alone, I highly recommend this volume in the BFI CLASSICS series for both fans of the movie, the director and cinema in general.

BFI MODERN CLASSICS: TITANIC by David M. Lubin

I’ve always felt that one of the wonderful things about the arts is that is entirely possible for a work to achieve greatness despite the fact that it isn’t very good. Take the first STAR WARS, for example: The acting is awful, the dialogue frequently painful and the characters are paper-thin archetypes rather than human beings, yet despite these faults, it remains one of the truly great and important films of all time – a statement that unfortunately does not apply to its later, equally flawed prequels.

The same, I think, could be said about James Cameron’s TITANIC, a film that somehow rises above its very noticeable flaws and still manages to achieve its own special form of greatness.

Some folks, however, are either incapable or unwilling to ignore these flaws and cannot understand how the film managed to capture audiences’ imaginations to such a record-breaking degree when it was released in 1997. Many of them grumble that its success is a sign that the masses are either stupid, easily deceived or most likely both. These folks are assholes. Please feel free to throw things at them.

Even though I suspect that I’m the only BOOKGASM reviewer who’d admit to liking the movie, it is in many ways a perfect example of the kind of work this site prides itself in discussing: a popular piece of fiction whose success is derided by cultural elitists, who assume that anything that entertains on a mass scale must automatically be suspect.

Unfortunately, it is this suspicion that makes David M. Lubin’s 125-page essay on the film so disappointing. It is obvious reading it that the BFI felt that the film’s enormous success demanded that they devote a book to it, but they couldn’t find a critic willing to give it their full support. Instead they found one who doesn’t so much as argue that the film is worthy of critical attention as he does attempt to figure out why it struck such a powerful chord with the public at large. In essence, the book’s subtext reads like this: I know it sucks and you know it sucks, but a lot of people liked it, so we might as well try and figure out why.

Not surprisingly, this quickly becomes more than a bit tedious, especially since the reason for the film’s success can be summed up in one short sentence: It made people feel something.

Also it had Kate Winslet naked in it. That probably helped. I know it made me feel something.

Oh, and the part where it sinks and all those folks die was pretty awesome.

In all fairness, Lubin does his best to do right by the film, but it is obvious that his heart isn’t into it. The whole essay reads like a book report written over spring break out of obligation rather than any genuine passion for the material. Perhaps, given the subject matter, that kind of passion is too much to ask for, but without it the book ultimately seems pointless and easy to dismiss.

That’s it for this week. Next week, I’ll wrap things up with a look at the BFI takes on THE WIZARD OF OZ, THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS and BLADE RUNNER. –Allan Mott

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