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Archive for the ‘Criticism’ Category

New Video – Science Fiction Futurism

Friday, October 2nd, 2015

I have a new video out on Science Fiction Futurism and Ridley Scott’s The Martian.

Science fiction films have been predicting the future since Georges Méliès’s A Trip To The Moon in 1902, and as with that film, as much as they might get things right, they often err in describing what the future holds.

In this short video, edited and photographed by Curt Bright, I talk about some of the other films that have shaped our consciousness of the future, to mark the release today of Ridley Scott’s new film The Martian, such as Things To Come (1936), Metropolis (1927), Blade Runner (1982), 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), and Robinson Crusoe on Mars (1964).

While these visions of the future are often fanciful, sometimes they hit the mark, as with hologram projection, talking computers, two-way television and numerous other technological advances. So click here, or on the link above to take a quick trip into the cinematic future, and remember, as Criswell famously noted, “we are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I will spend the rest of our lives.”

Maybe some of these things will actually come to pass.

Forthcoming Book – Gwendolyn Audrey Foster’s “Disruptive Feminisms”

Monday, September 28th, 2015

Gwendolyn Audrey Foster has a forthcoming book entitled Disruptive Feminisms: Raced, Gendered, and Classed Bodies in Film

Disruptive Feminisms: Raced, Gendered, and Classed Bodies in Film offers a revolutionary approach to feminism as a disruptive force. By examining texts that do not necessarily announce themselves as “feminist,” or “Marxist,” Gwendolyn Audrey Foster brings a unique critical perspective to a wide variety of films, such as Post Tenebras Lux, Craig’s Wife, and Bright Days Ahead, to name just a few of the many films discussed in this text.

From the classical Hollywood films of Dorothy Arzner and Ida Lupino, to the subversive global films of Carlos Reygadas, Claire Denis, Michelangelo Antonioni, Luis Buñuel, Paul Thomas Anderson, Călin Peter Netzer and many others, Foster highlights these filmmaker’s abilities to openly challenge everything from class privilege and colonial racism, to sexism, ageism, homophobia and the pathologies of white privilege.

Disruptive Feminisms: Raced, Gendered, and Classed Bodies in Film thus fills a fresh and much­‐needed critical perspective, which Foster dubs “disruptive feminism” – an entirely new way of looking at these groundbreaking films, and brings to the center a number of marginalized and under-appreciated films, offering a truly global perspective on feminist cinema.

Forthcoming late Fall, 2015; something to look forward to.

“The Power of Pictures: Early Soviet Photography, Early Soviet Film”

Sunday, September 27th, 2015

A frame blowup from Mikhail Kalatozov’s Salt for Svanetia (1930), now screening at the Jewish Museum.

Here’s a great review by Holland Cotter of The New York Times of a new show at the Jewish Museum in New York City.  As Cotter writes, in part: “Revolutions sell utopias; that’s their job. Art, if it behaves itself and sticks to the right script, can be an important part of the promotional package. This is the basic tale told by ‘The Power of Pictures: Early Soviet Photography, Early Soviet Film’ at the Jewish Museum, but with a question added: What happens to art and its makers when the script is drastically revised?

In the years following the 1917 revolution, Russia was a social and political experiment in progress, and a wild, risky one. It had a stake in emphasizing its brand-newness, its difference from the rest of the world. Its young government made every effort to promote the idea that it was creating a liberated, radical Now to set against a repressive, conservative Then.

In this heady atmosphere, avant-garde art, chance-taking by definition, was officially embraced as a natural complement to progressive politics. Photography and film, modern forms as yet untainted by history, were considered particularly suitable for molding life in the present. And both had inventive practitioners.

Already, by the mid-1920s, Sergei Eisenstein, a Red Army veteran, was memorializing the revolution in movies. Utopia-minded painters like El Lissitzky and Alexander Rodchenko were proposing alternative modes of seeing by bringing abstraction into photography . . .

Like photography, film in this period was ideologically constrained but conceptually advanced. The symphonic brilliance of Eisenstein’s 1925 Battleship Potemkin and his 1927 October, or Ten Days That Shook the World transcends the official approved narratives. Mikhail Kalatozov’s far less familiar Salt for Svanetia from 1930, a quasi-ethnographic film shot in the remote Caucasus, is enchantingly strange even with its tacked-on Soviets-come-to-the-rescue ending.

Remarkably, the show presents these films complete, along with nine other beauties in a small, comfortable viewing theater built into one of the Jewish Museum’s galleries. They are all screened back-to-back, four a day, with a few, including Grigory Kozintsev’s fascinatingly operatic 1926 adaptation of Gogol’s The Overcoat, repeated twice in the rotation.”

If you’re in Manhattan, check it out – some beautiful and little known work here.

Ramin Bahrani’s 99 Homes (2015)

Saturday, September 26th, 2015

Michael Shannon as real estate predator Rick Carver in Ramin Bahrani’s new film 99 Homes.

Mixed in with the recent wave of ultraviolent films like Eli Roth’s Green Inferno, and feelgood Capraesque fantasies like Nancy Meyers’ The Intern, there are occasionally a few really good American films that get released, but they don’t get much of a theatrical run. That’s because they’re independent films, and so they have to compete with the majors for theater screens. So, now playing in just a few cities, and breaking a bit wider in October – but still not “in theaters everywhere” as it should be – Ramin Bahrani’s brutal drama 99 Homes brings the current US housing crisis into sharp focus, offering Americans a bleak landscape made up of winners or losers, with no ground inbetween.

Michael Shannon absolutely inhabits the role of Rick Carver, a real estate broker who makes a fortune repossessing homes and then flipping them, without even the slightest vestige of humanity, decency, or compassion. Indeed, he throws away his most threatening lines with such utter indifference that it almost seems as if the camera isn’t there – Shannon takes up the entire screen with his presence. Utterly cold and calculating, Shannon’s Carver is the bottom-line nightmare writ large, as people cease to matter, and all that counts are financial transactions, taking advantage of others’ misfortunes, and the ruthlessness to exploit and ultimately destroy those who can’t fight back.

As David Edelstein noted on NPR in an excellent review of 99 Homes, “the most powerful morality plays work like drama instead of melodrama, so you’re not just on the side of the victim, you also see the world through the eyes of the oppressor. Wall Street did that, although Oliver Stone made the devil-mentor of the wide-eyed protagonist, Gordon Gekko, so charismatic that a generation of moneymen adopted him as a role model. Ramin Bahrani’s 99 Homes works on the same principle, with one key difference. The villain is Rick Carver, a predatory Florida real estate agent played by Michael Shannon, but the guileless apprentice he corrupts begins as one of his victims.

That victim is Dennis Nash, played by Andrew Garfield. Nash is a skillful builder, but the market has fallen out of the construction business and he barely gets work. He takes out a loan he can’t repay on the house in which he lives with his mom, played by Laura Dern, and his young son. Early on, he fights foreclosure before a brusque judge. Then comes a knock at the door: the sheriff and, behind him, Carver. In the scene that follows, a hand-held camera swerves with the characters as the mother cries out in grief and Nash pleads and argues. Bahrani presents this as a primal violation. Owning a home in the U.S. is hugely freighted with issues of self-worth. I found the scene so excruciating I had to get up and walk around the back of the theater.”

In an America in which 1% of the populace control 99% of the nation’s wealth, and apartment sales in Manhattan routinely list in the high seven-figure bracket, the middle class is being increasing squeezed out, and only those who have the education, and the skills to survive will prevail – and as 99 Homes makes clear, at the same time navigate through a wilderness of payday loans, indifferent social systems, and an increasingly detached citizenry, who just sit by and watch these things happen – as long as they’re happening to someone else. Shannon, who was so remarkable in the offbeat drama Take Shelter does some of the finest work of his career here, and director Bahrani, whose earlier films – such as the much admired Chop Shop (2007) – always have a cutting edge, also delivers – at least in my opinion – his most unrelenting work to date.

This is one of the most powerful films of the year. See the trailer here.

Uncle John (2015)

Sunday, September 20th, 2015

Steven Piet, John Ashton and Erik Crary on the set of Uncle John.

As the film’s publicity materials succinctly note, “small town bully turned born again Christian, Dutch, has gone missing. Well-regarded member of the community, John, is not a suspect, but has everything to do with it. Dutch’s younger brother, Danny, has his own theory about the disappearance and it centers on John.

Meanwhile, John’s nephew, Ben, arrives in town with his new girlfriend Kate just as John finds himself confronted with threats from Danny.” And that’s just the beginning of one of the most beguiling and mesmeric films in recent memory, made by two young men in sixteen days on an absolutely minimal budget. But as David Lynch noted on his Twitter feed, “check out @UncleJohnMovie – it caught me up and held me for days!”

As Neil Genzlinger noted in a rave review in The New York Times, “the simmering mystery Uncle John is so subtle, so exquisitely paced and so determined not to go in any of the obvious directions that it’s hard to believe the film is Steven Piet’s first feature. Piet, who with Erik Crary also wrote the script, sketches some memorable characters while keeping his two-pronged story sparse, ominous and deliciously ambiguous.

John Ashton is just right as the inscrutable title character, an older fellow in a rural town where an unlikable man named Dutch has gone missing. Shortly before his disappearance, Dutch apparently found Jesus, and he had been visiting various townspeople, confessing to misdeeds and such. Dutch and John’s sister were an item long ago, but something murky happened to the sister, and perhaps now something murky has happened to Dutch.

While all of this is being slowly revealed, many miles away in Chicago a young man named Ben is becoming smitten with a new co-worker, Kate. Alex Moffat and Jenna Lyng are very watchable as this might-become-a-couple, but what do they have to do with the goings-on out in the country? Turns out Ben has a beloved uncle who raised him, a man by the name of John. And when the two young flirters head his way for an impromptu visit, all secrets will be revealed. Or will they? It’s tantalizing, sublimely creepy stuff that keeps you guessing even after the credits roll.”

Added Frank Scheck in The Hollywood Reporter, Uncle John’s “other virtue is reintroducing John Ashton to the screen in his first major role in decades. The character actor, memorable for his sardonic comic turns in Midnight Run and the Beverly Hills Cops movies, delivers an understated but career-defining performance as the title character.

Seen disposing of a body in the film’s opening moments, John is an unassuming widower who looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Whether engaging in small town gossip with his buddies at the coffee shop or politely ignoring the flirtations of one of his carpentry clients, he maintains a low-key demeanor that is only betrayed by the quiet intensity of his gaze . . .

The film is an impressive dual calling card for its tyro director who keeps the tension at a simmering boil throughout both genres. And the late-career performance by the veteran Ashton (sans his usual mustache) is a revelation. The now 67-year-old actor has been steadily employed over the years, but he’s rarely had a role as good as this one and it’s a pleasure to watch him run away with it.”

You can also read an excellent interview with the director and screenwriter in Indiewire, in which Piet and Crary note that “throughout the process, we tried very hard to keep from becoming precious about the whole project. Not that its easy — trying to get a micro-budget film together is all-encompassing because it requires your non-stop attention and a willingness to ask for endless favors.

However, keeping that framed inside the fact that the rest of the world is also doing its own thing was incredibly helpful. Without proper money, way more no’s than yes’s came in. But, by keeping things reasonable and honest, the yes’s we got were for the right reasons.

In terms of production specifically, micro-budget on this one meant there would be no room for indulgence, ego or indecision because it was all going to be over in 16 days anyway. By doing what we could in extensive prep to set that up for success, and by trying to maintain a collaborative, healthy vibe on set because you are all there making a movie together, the whole experience was the most difficult but satisfying thing attempted to date. For us, the goal now will just be respecting those lessons and trying to grow from it all as the next project gets set up.”

There’s one other person who really deserves mention here – cinematographer Mike Bove. Bove’s clean, CinemaScope-ish visuals, shot with an Alexa digital camera, really bring the film to life, and take full advantage of natural light and the sparse settings of the film, which was shot on location in Wisconsin, and briefly, in Chicago.

It seems that Piet and Crary had three different levels of budgeting to work with – the dream budget, the “B” level budget, and the bare bones budget, and what happened in the end is that they mostly used the “C” schedule, shooting only what they needed. And that’s good – it’s perfect the way it is.

This is a dazzling debut film - check out the trailer here.

New Article in Senses of Cinema 76 – “Being Elizabeth Bishop”

Saturday, September 19th, 2015

I have a new article on Barbara Hammer’s new feature film Welcome to This House in Senses of Cinema.

As I write, in part, “Barbara Hammer’s Welcome to This House: A Film on Elizabeth Bishop (2015) is that rarity among documentary films – rather than the usual succession of talking heads, shot in a utilitarian fashion, as befits its subject the film is a primarily poetic project, which inhabits the world of Bishop and her poetry, entranced by the beauty of life in all its forms.

As the film’s press materials note, ‘Welcome to This House is a feature documentary film on the homes and loves of poet Elizabeth Bishop (1911–1979), about life in the shadows, and the anxiety of art making without full self-disclosure, filmed in Bishop’s ‘best loved homes’ in the US, Canada, and Brazil.’ It is also much more than that; it is an act of love and resurrection, in which Bishop emerges from the shadows as a fully rounded personage, freed from the constraints of society which so often failed to accept her for who she truly was.

In the film’s opening sequence, for example, photos of Bishop and the covers of her books give way to a view from the front porch of her home in Nova Scotia, with flowers and the image of a young Elizabeth intertwined in a tapestry of memory and abstract wonder. As the scene progresses, there are equally dreamlike images of her typewriter, and then a child’s hand writing ‘Elizabeth’ on a chalk slate, as the soundtrack hums and whirs with the sounds of an indolent, mesmeric summer. This gives way to reminiscences of how Bishop was left with her grandparents as a child, deprived of a mother and father, and how she grew up in world of her own creation as a result.

There are, of course, numerous archival materials interwoven throughout the film, but more than anything, Welcome to This House is a film about being Elizabeth Bishop, about finding one’s self as an artist, something that Barbara Hammer has being doing for her entire life, over a body of work that covers more than 80 films and four decades of continuous artistic production. In many ways, Welcome to This House is the sort of film that could only be made by a director after years of patient dedication; effortlessly mixing the past, the present, the imaginary and the real to evoke the inner life of Elizabeth Bishop, all the while demonstrating Hammer’s absolutely assured grasp of the moving image.”

You can read the entire essay by clicking here, or on the image above.

New Book Published – Black & White Cinema: A Short History

Tuesday, September 15th, 2015

I have a new book out today from Rutgers University Press – Black & White Cinema: A Short History.

From the glossy monochrome of the classic Hollywood romance, to the gritty greyscale of the gangster picture, to film noir’s moody interplay of light and shadow, black-and-white cinematography has been used to create a remarkably wide array of tones. Yet today, with black-and-white film stock nearly impossible to find, these cinematographic techniques are virtually extinct, and filmgoers’ appreciation of them is similarly waning.

Black and White Cinema is the first study to consider the use of black-and-white as an art form in its own right, providing a comprehensive and global overview of the era when it flourished, from the 1900s to the 1960s. Acclaimed film scholar Wheeler Winston Dixon introduces us to the masters of this art, discussing the signature styles and technical innovations of award-winning cinematographers like James Wong Howe, Gregg Toland, Freddie Francis, and Sven Nykvist.

Giving us a unique glimpse behind the scenes, Dixon also reveals the creative teams—from lighting technicians to matte painters—whose work profoundly shaped the look of black-and-white cinema. More than just a study of film history, this book is a rallying cry, meant to inspire a love for the artistry of black-and-white film, so that we might work to preserve this important part of our cinematic heritage. Lavishly illustrated with more than forty on-the-set stills, Black and White Cinema provides a vivid and illuminating look at a creatively vital era.

Here are some early reviews:

“Dixon covers the entire history of black and white movies in one volume, and talks about the films and cinematographers who created these films, and often got little credit for their work. Fascinating and compelling, this is essential reading for anyone who loves movies.”—Robert Downey Sr., director, Putney Swope

“Dixon has an encyclopedic knowledge of film history, and a subtle and well-honed aesthetic sense. He rescues important films from oblivion, and finds fresh angles of approach to films that are already familiar.” —Steven Shaviro, Wayne State University

“Wheeler Winston Dixon’s colorful study of black-and-white cinema reaffirms yet again his unfailing expertise as a critic, historian, and dazzlingly fine writer. Indispensable for students, scholars, and movie buffs alike.”—David Sterritt, author of The Cinema of Clint Eastwood: Chronicles of America

“In his latest book, Black and White Cinema, Wheeler Winston Dixon rediscovers the art of cinematography in those glorious black-and-white movies from Hollywood’s classic age.” –Jan-Christopher Horak, Director, UCLA Film & Television Archive.

My thanks to all who helped with this very complex project.

Nicholas Ray’s The Lusty Men (1952)

Friday, September 11th, 2015

Robert Mitchum and director Nicholas Ray on the set of Ray’s film The Lusty Men.

Last night, unable to sleep, I switched on TCM and caught about 40 minutes of Nicholas Ray’s brilliant modern day western, The Lusty Men – sort of a forerunner to John Huston’s The Misfits – which deals with life on the rodeo circuit, and features one of Robert Mitchum’s best performances.

As Roger Fristoe writes on the TCM website, “Mitchum plays a banged-up former rodeo star forced into retirement after being gored by a bull. He’s hired by Arthur Kennedy to train him so he, too, can become a champion. Once the sparks fly between Mitchum and the headstrong Susan Hayward, Kennedy challenges his mentor to a showdown in the rodeo ring.

To give the film its gritty, semi-documentary feeling, Ray spent months shooting on the rodeo circuit. He reportedly had only the bare outline of a script when filming began, so that scenes were written one night and shot the following day. Despite the hectic pace, Ray took so much time with individual scenes that Mitchum nicknamed him ‘The Mystic’ because of his habit of staring silently at the actors as he led them to probe the complexities of their characters . . .

Mitchum, who usually pretended indifference to his own performances, responded well to Ray’s painstaking direction and requested to see the film when it was two-thirds complete. Ray later recalled that Mitchum was so proud of what he saw that the two went to a bar to celebrate. Ray’s final memory of a drunken evening was Mitchum encountering a pair of FBI agents, borrowing a gun from one of them and firing it into a stack of dirty dishes.”

Using a great deal of location footage, and enhanced by Hayward’s reluctant participation in the project – which fits her character perfectly – the film is sharp, brutal, and offers a glimpse into the hard edged world of 1950s Western America, where modern day cowboys travel from one rodeo to the next in broken down trailers, in endless pursuit of prize money, won for punishing rides on bucking broncos, while their wives and girlfriends suffer on the sidelines – grateful for a cup of coffee or a hot shower offered by a friend, drifting from one honky-tonk bar to the next in search of momentary escape.

Most people know Ray, of course, from his most famous film, the iconic teen drama Rebel Without A Cause, which is a brilliant film, but so is this, and In A Lonely Place – arguably the best and most acidic film ever made about the Hollywood dream factory – and in the end, Ray emerges as one of the most important, and influential filmmakers of the 1950s, who the saw truth of an era in every American social strata, and brought that truth to the screen.

The Lusty Men is now available on DVD, and well worth checking out.

Humanities on The Edge – New 2015 / 2016 Series

Thursday, September 10th, 2015

Here’s a free lecture series at UNL that explores some really challenging topics.

As the site for the series notes, “Humanities on the Edge is a speaker series co-founded by Dr. Marco Abel and Dr. Roland Végsö, who now co-ordinate the series together with Dr. Jeannette Jones (Department of History and Institute for Ethnic Studies), Dr. Damien Pfister (Department of Communication Studies), and Jonathan Walz (Curator of American Art at the Sheldon). Founded in 2010, the series is now in its sixth year, and its mission remains the same: to promote cross-disciplinary conversation and theoretical research in the Humanities.”

For 2015- 2016, the central theme is Posthuman Futures, and as the co-founders state in their guiding manifesto, “the metaphor of our [series] title evokes the ambiguity of liminal spaces and transitional periods. It locates its subject, the “humanities,” in a precarious position between its revered past and its vague future possibilities. It suggests that we have reached a historical turning point, and the hour has arrived when we must assume full responsibility for the direction of our futures.

Our title, thus, speaks of a precarious balance that might be disturbed by the slightest movement of the air, by the smallest trembling of the ground, and even by the barely perceptible tremors of the human body. It names a moment of risk, when the urgency of action tightens our muscles and confounds our minds with the unbearable burden of a decision.

So what is this edge that the humanities appear to be teetering on? Few things would be more self-evident today than to assume that it is the edge of an abyss that threatens to swallow up everything that we have held so dear for so long. For quite some time now, we have been conditioned to take for granted the rhetoric of crisis that has invaded every publicly available discourse.

This is the edge that we live on today: the perpetual state of mobilization that has become the very medium of our existence. In fact, this perpetual crisis is more than mere rhetoric: it is the very means of the active reorganization of both human and non-human life through the reconfiguration of the institutions that give shape to our worlds.

But if there is more to our lives than the melancholy resignation to this apocalyptic diagnosis, there is still hope that this edge is also the edge of a new beginning. For what else could be the inverse of this perpetual crisis if not the ‘perpetual revolution’ of a field that must assume the responsibility of constantly reinventing itself.

Since the term ‘the humanities’ names a particular form of knowledge that the human being uses to understand itself, the very indeterminacy and openness of the object (the human being) must be clearly reflected in the discourses that try to describe it. This is then the edge that our title refers to: it is the link that simultaneously separates and joins together the dystopia of perpetual crisis and the utopia of perpetual invention.

Our objective with the speaker series is to bring to UNL the kind of cutting edge research in the humanities that promises to define the future of critical thought for some time to come. We plan to invite speakers from across the Humanities disciplines whose works have repeatedly forced us to rethink some of the most basic terms that we use to understand ourselves.”

Click here, or above, to see some of the top theorists in contemporary cultural studies – don’t miss it!

Why Grow Up? by Susan Neiman

Saturday, September 5th, 2015

Susan Neiman’s new book is a brilliant inquiry into the current infantilization of culture.

I have been meaning to write about this book for a long time, which I originally overlooked because of the overly “pop” cover – one would think that this was a book about the perils of junk culture written in a simple, crowd-pleasing manner, but no – this is a text which seriously wrestles with the questions of why we value what we value, and what value this has for us as human beings. It’s a remarkable accomplishment in every respect.

It’s a dense text, but bears its scholarship lightly, and reminds me of nothing so much of Nietzsche’s Twilight of the Idols in its compactness and economy, even if Neiman’s views are markedly different on a number of topics that both texts examine.

Reviewing Why Grow Up?: Subversive Thoughts for an Infantie Age in The New York Times on June 15, 2015, A.O. Scott noted that “the ‘infantile age’ she has in mind goes back to the 18th century, and its most important figures are Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Immanuel Kant. ‘Coming of age is an Enlightenment problem,’ she writes, ‘and nothing shows so clearly that we are the Enlightenment’s heirs’ than that we understand it as a topic for argument and analysis, as opposed to something that happens to everyone in more or less the same way.

Before Kant and Rousseau, Neiman suggests, Western philosophy had little to say about the life cycle of individuals. As traditional religious and political modes of authority weakened, ‘the right form of human development became a philosophical problem, incorporating both psychological and political questions and giving them a normative thrust.’

How are we supposed to become free, happy and decent people? Rousseau’s Emile supplies Neiman with some plausible answers, and also with some cautionary lessons. A wonderfully problematic book — among other things a work of Utopian political thought, a manual for child-rearing, a foundational text of Romanticism and a sentimental novel — it serves here as a repository of ideas about the moral progress from infancy to adulthood. And also, more important, as a precursor and foil for Kant’s more systematic inquiries into human development . . .

In infancy, we have no choice but to accept the world as it is. In adolescence, we rebel against the discrepancy between the ‘is’ and the ‘ought.’ Adulthood, for Kant and for Neiman, ‘requires facing squarely the fact that you will never get the world you want, while refusing to talk yourself out of wanting it.’ It is a state of neither easy cynicism nor naïve idealism, but of engaged reasonableness.”

Neiman, who also is the director of the Einstein Forum in Berlin, has been working with many of these ideas before in her earlier texts, but this volume seems almost a distillation of all of her previous work into one spare, epigrammatic volume – easy to digest, but never suffering fools gladly – provided, of course, that one is also willing to engage fully with the many other philosophers she cites throughout the book.

In an era in which pop culture has become inescapably junk culture, Neiman finds much to value on the web and elsewhere, provided that one is willing to look for it, and then read and/or view it. The problem, of course, is the plethora of material available in the digital world, and the fact that so much of what is superficial and useless rises to the top in terms of popularity, while more thoughtful work is marginalized, with no real way to find it – unlike the analog era, in which one could still browse through the book stacks on any given topic, and harvest a range of critical voices.

This is an essential volume for anyone interested modern culture, and its numerous “discontents.”

About the Author

Wheeler Winston Dixon

Wheeler Winston Dixon, Ryan Professor of Film Studies at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, is an internationally recognized scholar and writer of film history, theory and criticism. He is the author of thirty books and more than 100 articles on film, and appears regularly in national media outlets discussing film and culture trends. Frame by Frame is a collection of his thoughts on a number of those topics. All comments by Dixon on this blog are his own opinions. To contact Prof. Dixon for an interview, reach him at or

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  • Frame by Frame: Science Fiction Futurism
    UNL Film Studies Professor Wheeler Winston Dixon discusses the 2015 Ridley Scott film "The Martian," and the accuracy (and often inaccuracy) of science-fiction films at predicting real advancements in science and technology. […]
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    UNL Film Studies Professor Wheeler Winston Dixon discusses the genre of comic book movies in the context of "Batman v Superman."  […]

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