The Registry website provides a helpful list of potential nominees, recording thousands of "well-known" titles that have yet to receive official recognition.* It seems to me that, in some ways, this provisional list is just as valuable as the Registry's "official" list and archive. The Registry serves more than just an archival function; it also provokes conversation about films that warrant recognition. (As this recent blog exercise aptly demonstrates!) In short, the Registry helps to form a very public conception of film history. The continued omission of worthy films from the "first-round" of discussion threatens to erase these films from cultural memory.
The Women In Film & Video group's push for the inclusion of "women-made films" in the Registry seems well-intentioned. Sadly, it suffers from the same problem allegedly plaguing the NFPB: the exclusion of already-neglected films by incredibly talented female filmmakers makes it increasingly likely that these films will be left out of future discussion. The longer we go without talking about them, the easier it becomes to forget that they ever existed.**
Put simply, Penny Marshall's Big does not need to be a part of the discussion at this point in time. i suppose the film has some cultural resonance, but so do many other relatively recent "generational" films. (Is anyone seriously pushing for the selection of John Hughes' The Breakfast Club or Richard Linklater's Dazed and Confused, two wonderful films that have just as much cultural significance as Big?) And does Big really need recognition? The crowning achievement in Laverne DeFazio's oeuvre isn't in any danger of being forgotten. (This is probably true of most "safe" mainstream films.) On the other hand, the works of the great Elaine May have already been forgotten. Among the 500 films archived in the Registry, not one is directed by Elaine May. Among the thousands of films listed on the Registry website's provisional list, not one is an Elaine May directorial effort. How can this be? Mike Nichols, May's longtime writing partner, is represented in the Registry.*** John Cassavetes, who starred in perhaps May's finest film, Mikey and Nicky (1976), is represented in the Registry. Yet, judging by the nominees of the Washington D.C. chapter of Women In Film & Video, it appears that May does not even warrant consideration for inclusion.
As a much-needed corrective, i nominate the aforementioned Mikey and Nicky, May's off-the-cuff, unsettlingly humorous, and utterly unique riff on the gangster movie.****
ed
*"Some Films Not Yet Named to the National Film Registry," National Film Registry, www.loc.gov/film/NFRposs.html.
**One could argue that a film like Trinh T. Minh-ha's sumptuously shot A Tale of Love (1995) was always already excluded from the discussion by virtue of existing entirely outside the Hollywood system. It is precisely such a film that needs to be talked about in order to be remembered.
***The quiet erasure of May's contributions to film history extends even further than i initially feared. Earlier, i looked-up May's profile on the Internet Movie Database. The first name generated by my search -- i typed "Elaine May" into the search field -- was Mike Nichols!
****The incomparable film critic Jonathan Rosenbaum provides an (historically) informative anecdote about his experiences viewing Mikey and Nicky, which, given the nature of our final assignment for this course, is probably worth recounting in full:
The second time I saw the film was in 1980, when I programmed it for "Buried Treasures" at the Toronto Film Festival; this inadvertently became the world premiere of the film's final version. The film looked even stronger, but most of the continuity errors had magically vanished. It was only later that I discovered that the original release version wasn't May's final cut but a cobbled-together version put out by Paramount. It was released after a dispute between the studio and the writer-director about the two years she'd already spent editing the 1.4 million feet of footage she'd shot, which culminated in her psychoanalyst helping her to remove some of the reels and hiding them somewhere in Connecticut. According to Janet Coleman -- who reports these bizarre details in her history of improvisational comedy, The Compass (Alfred A, Knopf, 1990) -- one can start to appreciate the sheer mass of the footage involved if one considers that 475,000 feet were shot for Gone With the Wind.
See Rosenbaum, "Mikey and Nicky (liner notes)," Oct. 5, 2003, www.jonathanrosenbaum.com/?p=14636.
5 comments:
Yes, there are NFPB members pushing for The Breakfast Club to be put on the Registry. I wouldn't oppose it myself.
I suppose there a different ways to look at the National Film Registry. It seems you place the most importance on making sure we remember certain films or people. I wouldn't disagree with that sentiment.
I feel a greater importance to add films that are significant to the American culture. For example, Boyz in the Hood is already on the list. It's the first film to be directed for an African American and be nominated for Best Director. That's quite significant. It also has El Norte which was the first for a Hispanic director. Wouldn't The Piano be a better addition considering Campion is the first American woman to be nominated for Best Director?
Re: Prof. Streible:
i imagine that now might be a good time for NFPB members to really push for The Breakfast Club to be included in the Registry. Hughes' recent death seemed to ignite much discussion of the role of his films in defining the 1980s. (Of course, i wonder how many black people feel as if Hughes spoke for them and of their experiences during that decade.)
Re: Jerad:
i agree that Jane Campion is a wonderful, talented director. i also agree that The Piano is an astonishing, breathtaking film. But you are mistaken: Campion is not an "American woman" and The Piano is not an American film.
Even if the film was eligible for inclusion in the Registry, i strongly disagree with the assertion that it constitutes "a better addition" than Elaine May's Mikey and Nicky simply by virtue of having been nominated for an Academy Award. i think that it would be a mistake for the NFPB to turn the Registry into a reflection of the films lauded at the industry's annual self-congratulatory ceremony. Instead of the Academy Award-nominated Grease, why not include an audacious, formally inventive musical like Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, or an important, socially-conscious musical like Hallelujah, I'm a Bum? In addition to Academy-recognized Boyz n the Hood, why not also include Menace II Society or Charles Burnett's My Brother's Wedding?
Using public consciousness as a barometer of cultural significance is one thing, but limiting the discussion of which films to recognize and preserve in the National Film Registry solely to Academy Award-nominated and/or commercially successful films runs the risk of catering to the worst impulses among American filmgoers. Your chosen criteria would leave no room in the Registry for such wonderful, non-commercial feature films as Julie Dash's richly evocative Daughters of the Dust (an alternative African American history released the same year as Boyz n the Hood); Charles Burnett's historically resonant Killer of Sheep; Jim Jarmusch's indie-defining Stranger Than Paradise; Michael Roemer's equally important "indie," Nothing but a Man; Wayne Wang's intercultural search for meaning in a changing, transitional America, Chan Is Missing; John Cassavetes' improvisational, free-floating examination of race, Shadows; Budd Boetticher's splendid "B Western," The Tall T; Frank Tashlin's commercially-toxic critique of American marketing and big business, Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?; Douglas Sirk's long-misunderstood All That Heaven Allows; Herbert Biberman's daring political provocation, Salt of the Earth; Nicholas Ray's astonishing, proto-feminist Johnny Guitar; or Edgar Ulmer's confrontational "B movie," Detour.
The NFPB has seen fit to recognize all of the aforementioned films, in spite of their collective failure to garner a single Academy Award nomination. The NFPB has rightfully deemed these films "culturally" or "historically" or "aesthetically" important enough for recognition in spite of their limited commercial success. i don't believe that "cultural significance" is necessarily correlated with the number of Academy Award nominations that a film happened to receive. i do not believe that box office receipts and studio marketing campaigns ought to determine the course of film history, national or otherwise.
ed
Honestly Ed, I feel as if you are making many assumptions and stretching my words quite a bit. I never once stated that we should limit the discussion to Academy Award winning films or those that were commercially successful. Yes, I did list those as a reason why as possible backing evidence for its inclusion, but I never stated it as the only reason. Basing that entire argument due to my mention of two films? Give me some credit.
But I don't feel that just because a film is well-known or performed well commercially that it should automatically be excluded from the list. Choosing obscure movies is fine by me, but choosing obscure films simply because they're obscure is just as limiting (I realize I'm taking a lot of liberties here as well). And certainly there is nothing at all wrong with one person having a preference for the obscure and another being on the opposite spectrum. That is part of the reason why this selection process works so well.
I feel Grease has had a greater effect on culture than the other films that you listed. I gave my reasons for that. There are always more options, but I stand firmly by my choice. I also don't think it's wise to add Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Do we really need a seventh Howard Hawks film? He is a very influential director, but really? Lewis Milestone does have All Quiet on the Western Front as well. And I am fully aware that Randal Kleiser has a film on there too. It just came to my attention. Despite this, I think Grease captures many things about American popular culture that I deem important. However, I would be delighted to see Rosewood on there one day as well, but that has more to do with a personal bias/slight-fanboyism that I'd rather not elaborate on.
But I do have a hard time wrapping my head around your choice for Mikey and Nicky. You really didn't state why she stands out among other female filmmakers or why this particular film deserves inclusion more than her other three films. Certainly my own ignorance of the film plays a part, but it does seem there were some assumptions made that the reader should simply know why. It's a bit difficult for me to agree or disagree because there is simply no elaboration beyond a quote by Rosenbaum. The lack of defense for the film based on cultural influence, shot structure, themes, etc is partly what led me to feel as if it's chosen only because it's obscure to the majority of Americans. I would appreciate a more thorough argument.
You ask if we really need a seventh film from Howard Hawks in the Registry. Not only does the Registry need a seventh film directed by Hawks, it needs an eighth, a ninth, and a tenth as well. (Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Rio Bravo, To Have and Have Not, and The Big Sky demand inclusion in an archive that seeks to represent American film history.) According to Prof. Streible, the notion that a filmmaker is already "adequately represented" in the Registry is prevalent among NFPB members. It is a notion with which i strongly disagree. i am reminded of Paolo Cherchi Usai's apprehensive observation that curators often succumb to a mainstream desire to cover "all the main monuments" in film history. Once a particular filmmaker or genre is represented, there is no need for further recognition: "Been there, done that." (Usai, Silent Cinema, 69.) Could this explain why filmmakers as historically important as Sam Fuller, Anthony Mann, Fritz Lang, Douglas Sirk, Lewis Milestone, Budd Boetticher, Charles Burnett, Oscar Micheaux, George Romero, Jerry Lewis, and Frank Tashlin are each represented just once in the Registry?
You question the view that it is okay to choose obscure films simply because they are obscure. (Not quite what i said, but a point i'll address nonetheless.) Isn't that, in some ways, precisely what the Orphan film movement seeks to do -- highlight obscure films that need recognition and saving from the dustbin of film history? Why should the Registry not reserve a special place for films in dire need of attention and historical interest? "Obscurity" often lapses into "erasure."
You write that it is "difficult" for you to agree or disagree with my support of Mikey and Nicky because i offer little elaboration. First of all, i contend that it would be difficult for you to agree or disagree in any case because you have not seen the film. Until last year, i had not seen the film, either -- like many people, i was unaware of its existence. i think that speaks to the widespread neglect of the film and to the not-so-subtle erasure of May from American film history. My post was crafted not as a defense of May's unique aesthetic and inventive formal technique -- imagine a Cassavetes film that could be classified as a screwball comedy, with genuinely sweet humor and a rigorous attention to detail -- but rather as a response to the privileging of another mainstream film whose primary attribute seems to be that it was directed by a woman. (In any case, my blog post was already gratuitously long.) May deserves recognition because she is in danger of being forgotten. May warrants inclusion because her impact on American film is undeniable. (The trajectories of the careers of Mike Nichols, Warren Beatty, and Woody Allen are unthinkable without May's influence.) To ask why May deserves recognition already suggests an answer: because we really shouldn't have to ask the question.
You express uncertainty about May's place in film history, asking why she stands out among female filmmakers. i contend that May stands out among all filmmakers. Mike Nichols, May's comedic partner in crime, is widely considered a key part of American film history. John Cassavetes, who starred in Mikey and Nicky and who exerted a great deal of influence over May's realist aesthetic and improvisational production practices (theirs was a mutually beneficial relationship), is represented in the Registry. Any one of May's directorial efforts could rightly be included in the Registry. (Okay, maybe not Ishtar.) As an alternative to May's inclusion, you suggested Jane Campion's The Piano, a film that is probably not eligible. i think that speaks volumes about the dearth of worthy, viable candidates among American female filmmakers. If the "best" alternatives we can come up with are Penny Marshall and a New Zealand filmmaker (most of) whose films are not even eligible for inclusion in the Registry, perhaps the question we ought to be asking is, Why not Elaine May?
ed
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