Oh I agree (but of course the devil is in the detail!) Whatever issues I may have with the series (and hopefully just with the first episode) this is still a valuable series if just for the interviews that will be in there and the accompanying film season. I would never have gotten a chance to see Orphans of the Storm without this series, so I'll be grateful to it for giving me that opportunity at the very least!
To maybe refute the idea that this is the first halfway decent series on cinema in the last twenty years on British television (though they are
extremely few and far between) I actually rewatched Tom Sutcliffe's excellent six part series called
Watching made for the BBC in 2000, perhaps out of a desire to see something more substantial on the subject without having to wait a week and cross my fingers. This doesn't have the high ambition of redefining cinema of the Story of Film documentary but it doesn't shy away from talking about Hollywood cinema and mixing it together with silents and international cinema in what feels like a healthier combination (In the words of the introduction: "This is a series about cinema. But it is not about directors or actors, or movie genres. It is about some of the impulses and urges that unite all films, whether they are arthouse movies or Hollywood blockbusters").
In just those six half hour episodes it feels as if it gets to the heart of many of the techniques and philosophies of cinema that I felt Cousins was struggling with in that first episode, though of course there is still a lot of time left for Cousins to build a thesis. (Watching also has its own flaws of being a bit too beholden to discussing current British cinema hits of the time such as Trainspotting and The Full Monty, though that has a side benefit of illustrating some of the techniques discussed and showing that they were still in current practice)
Those six episodes were:
1. Beginnings - "the beginning is the point at which the film comes to terms with its viewers, drawing up the rules of engagement. A good beginning must make the audience feel that it does not know nearly enough yet, and at the same time make sure that they do not know too little"
The importance of the opening minutes of a film from title sequences, 'pedal-to-the-metal' openings compared to more subdued openings, the fact that "we are almost never virgins when we enter the cinema these days" due to the advertising and promotions that surround films (which I think could make a damning point of comparison with Cousins trip to Iraq for his last project, The First Movie, which felt a lot like an attempt to create a film community without having to deal with the fact that most of the rest of the world beyond Cousins's isolated film Shangri-la can never be a blank slate in their approach to the cinema screen), and the way that the way that the possibilities of those first minutes are magical (the moment when we may be about to see the best film in the world, perhaps) and that it is perhaps the most dangerous part of a film for a filmmaker as they have to try to build that audience anticipation of those first minutes into guiding the audience into the world and tone of a film.
Some of the films discussed include the masterful trailer for Psycho, the shock openings of Persona and Naked Kiss along with the way that Ridicule overturns some of the conventional notions of a period historical drama in its opening scene. Citizen Kane is talked about, of course, along with Janet Leigh talking about the opening of Touch of Evil. Bogdanovich does a mini-commentary over the first scenes of The Last Picture Show. The problematic explosive opening of Scorsese's Casino. The eerily menacing openings of The Shining and Don't Look Now.
2. Big "Hardly anything can strike the mind with its greatness that does not make some approach towards infinity" Edmund Burke
The use of size in cinema - i.e. blowing something tiny up to huge proportions or making something huge seem small. The opening of Star Wars is discussed (along with the problem that the impressiveness of the spaceship moving over and past the audience has to inevitably diminish once we can see the whole ship in the frame) and the first appearance of the alien ships in Independence Day (contrasting it nicely with the way Spielberg uses the ripples in the glass of water to introduce the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park) but these clips are also contrasted with the opening of The Crowd (move a camera towards an object and the sense of scale is reduced but that also leads to idea of focusing in and approaching a deeper truth of some kind - the logic of discovery) and Blow Up (which then explodes that idea of the logic of discovery by getting closer and closer to an image until all meaning is lost).
The idea of a close up bringing us closer into the inner life of a character itself gets somewhat dashed when Bogdanovich talks of the way that it is much easier to talk a non-professional actor through a scene in a close up to express the idea of profound emotion even when they might not be aware of having that impact by just looking down and then up again thoughtfully (he talks of directing Cher this way in Mask). Though then the programme shows Falconetti in Passion of Joan of Arc, a film all about the power of the close up.
The idea of the coffee cup is brought up, just as it was in Cousins' film, though Bogdanovich describes it as similar to an Ozu shot. He is also the person who describes the Taxi Driver scene as a profound way of conveying the feeling of schizophrenia, isolating details. Then the programme talks about the development from sub-contracting out inserts towards incorporating them and using them for conveying more than just basic plot details.
There is also a nice discussion of the huge sets of Intolerance which gets to the heart of this problem of size in cinema, in a profound statement: "Unfortunately artifice was sometimes exactly what it looked like. If you got close enough to see human faces then the sets effectively disappeared and if you pulled back far enough to see the sets then the people disappeared, and all secure sense of scale with it. Is this a real or just a model? The title cards for Intolerance boasting about the films dimensions betray a temor of nerves that the moviegoers will not be as impressed as they should...The paradox seemed intractable - give the audience the biggest thing they had ever seen and everything they truly cared about shrank until it was almost invisible. Griffith found one of the best solutions to the conundrum, using the camera itself to pace out the enormity of his set, from panorama to individual figures. Time measures out the distance that has to be travelled from the epic to the personal, and every second of this slow advance makes the scene swell in grandeur. And the technique works just as well in contemporary films [cuts to opening of Blade Runner]".
Lord of the Rings (but really any epic in scope film) was still struggling with these issues nine decades later.
3. Screens - the nervy relationship that cinema has had with television through analysis of the scene from All That Heaven Allows where Jane Wyman's children buy her a television as a substitute for her giving up the relationship with Rock Hudson's gardener. Of course Videodrome turns up. The way that the television can be seductive but blinding - the boy in Halloween has to turn away from the monster movie marathon on the television in order to see a glimpse of the true horror occurring across the street. The family gawking at the test card on their new television in Barry Levinson's Avalon. The way that Cinema Paradiso is mostly a (self comforting in the age of television) love letter to how the softer, warmer light of cinema can bring people together rather than isolate them in front of individual screens.
But Terry Gilliam also talks of the way that a screen is a great way of bringing a world inside a room, of inundating a character with information, and the way that it can create fascinating juxtapositions within a scene.
And then the move into the post-television age of user generated content from the home movie opening of Mean Streets to Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer through to a discussion of Atom Egoyan's films.
4. Punch - the use of the fist fight in film. From the moral fables of Rocky to the male bonding of Red River (where a slap at the beginning turns into a punch in the final scene to show the boy has become a man and can be treated as such) taken to queasy extremes with The Quiet Man. The falling out of favour of the punch with the escalating violence of the 1960s.
5. Unseen - the episode about what lies beyond the bounaries of the frame and how to create tension. From the
train arriving at the station at Ciotat, the Méliès trick films, through Val Lewton and his 'bus' and Murnau. The power of the use of implication (the gunning down of Boris Karloff in Scarface; the murder at the beginning of M; the sketching in of sets in a stylised manner in Citizen Kane to suggest a bank vault or an opera house; the camera at water level in Jaws; the final chase sequence in Eyes of Laura Mars; the honking of the horn in Postman Always Rings Twice; the refusal to show Anna Karina at the opening of Vivre Sa Vie; the 'embarrassed' pan away from Travis Bickle making the telephone call in Taxi Driver).
6. Freeze "It is surprising how often the flash of a bulb in film marks the moment that a lie has been told" [cut to clip from North By Northwest of Cary Grant photographed standing over a body]
The episode tackles the still image and the way it has more power than the moving one. Documentary footage set against a still photograph of a scene - which medium tells the 'best truth'? Do the staged family photographs created in Timothy Spall's photography studio in Secrets and Lies tell a profound inner truth, or are they attempts at creating a fictitionalised moment of harmony, hampered by commercial demands of his clients? Is a photograph revealing a captured moment of reality in People on Sunday or in the still frames of Jules and Jim? The fakeness of a still, perfect moment, but also the yearning for it illustrated by clips from Jocelyn Moorhouse's Proof. But when cinema uses a photograph it is as a signifier of 'reality' - as in the crime scene photographs at the opening of Silence of the Lambs.
Does a slow shot, rather than a true freeze frame give us the chance for contemplation, if only of the beauty of Greta Garbo at the end of Queen Christina? Can it be used in a problematic manner, such as the 'triumphant' ending of Thelma & Louise?
The use of stills as punctuation and emphasis of a particular moment by a the filmmaker - or as in La Jetee reversed so the barely perceptible flicker of movement becomes the most impactful moment. Like the close up it can be used as a way of wresting back control and guiding the audience's gaze to what is considered the most important element but it can also raise questions as well - most famously what lies ahead of Antoine Doinel in The 400 Blows?