zedz wrote:These are interesting and important questions, but I'm afraid I'm one of those demented optimists who thinks that the 'rejection' of a lot of great subtitled / arthouse cinema by audiences is more a problem of the international distribution network and the media that supports it than a problem of the films themselves. The decline of serious criticism is one factor here, but so too is the widespread co-option of all media by the Hollywood publicity machine, which stipulates that for a certain internationally synchronised period, everybody is supposed to care about the Green Lantern movie. Non-Hollywood cinema is muscled out of multiplexes by the studios, and alternative venues collapse with alarming regularity; marginal films get further marginalised.
Sorry to come late to this discussion, which I somehow managed to miss until today, but this is absolutely bang on. The tastes of the public are overwhelmingly shaped by the tastes of a very small number of distributors, and in most cases there's a very strong inverse correlation between willingness to take risks and size of operating budget - and the lower that budget, the less influence you have in a fiercely competitive marketplace.
I'm not in the habit of writing letters of complaint to newspapers, but I did so in 1993 or thereabouts to the editor of the
Guardian about his frankly terrifying decision to employ the wilfully ignorant and aggressively philistine Toby Young as the paper's chief film critic.
This wasn't remotely a matter of personal distaste for his work: my problem with Young's promotion to a role that he was patently not qualified to hold was that it upset a very delicate balance between small independent film distributors and sympathetic broadsheet newspapers, chiefly the
Guardian and
Independent. A good review from them could mean the difference between breaking even and a thumping loss, so by hiring a reviewer who stated from the outset his intention to aggressively champion mainstream entertainment, the paper was potentially doing incalculable damage to a sector already in serious decline (1992-4 was perhaps the most disastrous period for the independent film sector in my adult lifetime - everyone bangs on about the Scala closing because of
A Clockwork Orange, but in fact that cinema would have closed more or less when it did even if its programming had been legally impeccable).
Thankfully, Young didn't last long: I've no idea whether my letter had any effect, but the fact that he was replaced by the infinitely more knowledgeable and serious-minded Jonathan Romney spoke volumes.
But personally, I don't see that a film like Certified Copy is any less user-friendly than any number of supposedly 'middlebrow' Europuddings, even if it does have a lot more to think about under the surface, just as I don't see why the people who used to enthuse about L'Avventura or Last Year at Marienbad couldn't be just as intrigued by What Time Is It There? or Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting.
I totally agree: it's all a matter of good distribution and intelligent marketing (the latter including the participation of knowledgeable and accessible critics). In fact, in many ways a better comparison might be between
Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting and
The Draughtsman's Contract - the latter was as close to a blockbuster as arthouse films get, yet it's pretty much inconceivable that a fan of the latter, or of Greenaway in general, wouldn't be able to see where Raul Ruiz was coming from.
Sure, there are the deliberately confrontational and aesthetically challenging 'tough films' - which have always been around (not even the Golden Age of Arthouse could make a hit out of Gertrud) - but there are plenty of great films that are perfectly accessible to moderately adventurous audiences. But those audiences have probably never heard of them, and they're getting out of the habit of seeking out interesting, challenging films.
And distributors are getting out of the habit of supplying them. It's a vicious circle that's very hard to break.
Of course, part of the problem is that people like me who spent the 80s and 90s going to at least one independent cinema several times a week have cut back their cinemagoing to once a month (if that), and are getting everything via DVD, Blu-ray and downloads. I actually have far better access to an infinitely greater range of titles now than I did a quarter of a century ago, but I'm also very conscious of the fact that my cinephilia was nurtured through media that largely no longer exist - namely, repertory cinemas and much more adventurous programming on mainstream television (especially Channel 4 in its early days).
And I have to say that my conception of the canon and knives' seem to be completely incompatible. For my money, you don't get to enter it after one well-reviewed film and a smattering of festival screenings. If it's a canon that's only acknowledged by a miniscule community of scattered cinephiles, it's not really a canon at all.
Again, I completely agree. The 1962 poll result that voted
L'Avventura the second greatest film of all time when it was still almost wet from the lab is hugely anomalous in terms of the history of the S&S polls as a whole, and in general there seems to be a tendency to wait at least a decade to see if a film's reputation holds up. I suspect I'll be asked to contribute to next year's poll, and I'd be very surprised if I considered anything made in the 21st century - and gobsmacked if it was made in the last few years.
For me, a film like Satantango, which has only ever enjoyed a handful of screenings in English-speaking territories, is way too obscure to be considered canonical. Before it came out on DVD, how many people had even seen the film in the US or UK? A thousand? And if you're being extraordinarily charitable you might be able to add another thousand viewers as a consequence of the DVD releases.
I'd be astounded if the number was any more than that with regard to the UK. As far as I'm aware, the film had between two and three complete screenings in Britain between 1994 and the emergence of the DVD more than fifteen years later. So even if all of them sold out (wildly unlikely, I'd have thought), and everyone was watching the film for the first time, I reckon that's mid triple figures at most. Which is vanishingly minuscule compared to the audiences that the 1960s big hitters could attract - and indeed more recent auteurs with crossover appeal like Krzysztof Kieslowski and Wong Kar-wai. I suspect even Michael Haneke is more "popular" than Béla Tarr by several orders of magnitude.
Pasolini, on the other hand, was an arthouse star in the 60s and 70s, or near as dammit. Almost all of his features were in commercial distribution in America and Britain, and he had at least one hugely influential arthouse blockbuster under his belt (The Decameron).
And not just "in commercial distribution" - he was picked up by United Artists, who also handled other big 1960s/70s auteurs. Similarly, Warner Bros handled such titles as
Day for Night and
Death in Venice in the UK - I can't imagine them picking up the equivalents now (at least not through their main distribution arm).
Pasolini is a good example of a filmmaker who slipped off the international radar to a large extent after his death, however (partly because there were no more films, partly because the existing films became harder to see, and partly because he was so sui generis that he didn't have a particularly widespread influence with subsequent generations of Italian filmmakers, and even if he did, Italian cinema itself receded from view to a large extent in the 80s and 90s), which probably accounts for why you'd only heard of his most notorious film - the one which retained the most critical currency because of its extremity.
Distributors are horribly prone to fashion - the decline of interest in Italian cinema was paralleled by the rise of Spanish cinema (spearheaded by the Almodóvar juggernaut), to the extent that by the early 1990s we were getting entertaining but ho-hum Spanish fare like
The Fencing Master while the work of outstanding younger directors like Nanni Moretti was largely ignored (I think the gap between his debut and his first film to get a UK release was something like fifteen years). And then Danish film and Iranian film became fashionable in the late 1990s, and more recently we've had the so-called Romanian new wave - which has produced several very interesting films and a couple of outstanding, but I don't think the likes of, say,
Boogie or
The Happiest Girl in the World would have been picked up ten years ago: there's nothing wrong with them, but their nationality almost certainly was a significant reason for them getting distribution now.