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Archive for the ‘Film Criticism’ Category

“Isn’t it Bromantic?” – The Whole Damn Sony Mess, and What It Means

Monday, January 5th, 2015

I have a new article out today on The Interview (2014) in the Swedish film journal Film International.

As I note, “now that some time has elapsed between the Sony hack and the release of the film that apparently precipitated it, Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg’s The Interview (2014), there are more than a few lessons to take away from the entire affair not only in the areas of film production and distribution, but also in the areas of cybersecurity. I’m certainly no expert on the latter part of this equation, although I know, as I told The Los Angeles Times on December 13, 2014, that what happened with the Sony hack was ‘a wake-up call to the entire industry […] the studios have to realize there is really no such thing as privacy. The minute anything goes on the Web, it can be hacked.’

That’s true of any cybersystem, and one of the bleakest aspects of the new digital Dark Ages; the blind faith in cloud computing technology, encryption systems, and supposed digital storage as being some supposedly ’safe’ method of keeping scripts, internal e-mails, rough cuts of films, music files and other products of any entertainment company securely beyond the reach of piracy. It’s a joke. If you want a secure method of keeping a film safe, make a 35mm fine grain negative of the digital master and bury it in the vault.

As far as internal communication goes, don’t send e-mails; use face to face conversations – even phones, especially cellphones, aren’t reliably secure. Cellphones can track your every move, and routinely do, so the location, duration, and content of your conversations are a matter of nearly public record. Assume that everyone is audio or video taping you all the time. Don’t make stupid jokes about sensitive issues.

Realize that everything you say and do – even within the confines of your office or home – is as public as the back of a snail mail postcard – actually, much more public, since postcards seem to routinely go through the mail without the least bit of scrutiny. In short, the era of hypersurveillance is here, and the much vaunted concept of Jeremy Bentham’s panopticon with it: there is no such thing as cybersecurity. So-called experts who are brought in in such situations prescribe various fixes, but the entire digital universe is so inherently porous and unreliable – almost existing to be hacked – that any such effort is doomed to perpetual, Sisyphian failure.

In this new atmosphere of perpetual vulnerability, Sony decides to go ahead with the production of The Interview, an extremely poorly made film in which two down-market television ‘tabloid news’ journalists, producer Aaron Rapaport (Seth Rogen) and his anchorman Dave Skylark (James Franco) snag an interview with Kim Jong-un (Randall Park, utterly miscast and completely unconvincing), and are then asked by the CIA to assassinate the North Korean dictator during the course of their visit, using a strip of ricin-impregnated paper to poison him with a seemingly off-the-cuff handshake. Naturally, the whole thing goes desperately wrong, with supposedly ‘hilarious’ consequences, but fear not – by the end of the film (spoiler alert) Kim is eventually killed by a nuclear missile.

I don’t propose to discuss the film at any great length here – it’s long, poorly edited and badly scripted (by Dan Sterling, from a story by Rogen, Goldberg and Sterling) with numerous adlibs throughout, it would seem, from an examination of the B-roll footage readily available on the web, and desperately unfunny. Rogen and Goldberg’s idea of direction is to make sure that everyone is in the frame and that the set is evenly lit, and then shout ‘action’ and see what happens.

The fact that the film cost a reported $44 million to make, not counting Digital Cinema Packages (DCPs, essentially films on a hard drive) and advertising, seems shocking, because it looks both shoddy and cheap. The sets, the props, the lighting, the overall physical execution of the film is simply throwaway ‘documentation,’ nothing more. In short, it looks like a bad TV movie from the 1970s.”

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

J.K. Simmons on Whiplash (2014)

Wednesday, December 31st, 2014

Here’s a brief but excellent interview with J.K. Simmons on his new film Whiplash.

Whiplash is being praised as one of the best films of 2014, and while I think it’s a long way from that, what really does redeem the film – which is yet another version of The Red Shoes – is J.K. Simmons’ performance as a ruthless teacher driving a gifted student to the breaking point in the pursuit of “perfection.”  Simmons has been a deeply underrated actor for a long time now, working in numerous commercials, the Law & Order franchise, and many other supporting roles. Like any truly great actor, he makes all of this seem effortless – you instinctively believe him, whether he’s playing a police psychologist, or a rabid neo-Nazi, or the gentle pitchman in the Farmers Insurance advertisements. In Whiplash, he has his first chance to stretch out and tackle a really big part, and the shocker for me is that he’s being considered only as Best Supporting Actor in the upcoming Oscar derby; he’s really the star of the film.

Of course, as a journeyman professional, who’s seen and done so much work in his career, Simmons would modestly refute this, but it’s nevertheless true – the film simply would not work without him. Perhaps someone with the range of Stanley Tucci might be able to tackle it, but consider what would happen if someone specializing in traditional bombast had taken the role – it just wouldn’t be as effective. And yet in Simmons’ capable hands, a truly monstrous music teacher becomes both real and genuinely frightening, with depth and resonance, rather than delivering just a one-note performance. So this film is really worth seeing chiefly because Simmons is in it; and he should certainly win the Best Supporting Oscar, whatever that means, for his work in Whiplash – but mind you, he’s the star of the film, and not a supporting player.

Click here, or on the image above, to listen to Simmons’ thoughts on the film.

Reset! Check Out Frame by Frame from 2011 To The Present!

Monday, December 29th, 2014

Click on the button above to check out this blog from the first entry to the present!

Frame by Frame began more than three years ago with a post on Rebel Without A Cause – now, with more than 590 posts & much more to come, we’re listed on Amazon, in the New York Times blogroll,  the Film International blogroll and elsewhere on the net, as well as being referenced in Wikipedia and numerous other online journals and reference websites. With thousands of hits every day, we hope to keep posting new material on films and people in films that matter, as well as on related issues, commercial free, with truly open access, for the entire film community. So look back and see what we’ve been up to, and page through the past to the present.

There are also more than 70 videos on film history, theory and criticism to check out on the Frame by Frame video blog, arranged in carousel fashion to automatically play one after the other, on everything from Fritz Lang’s Metropolis to film aspect ratios, to discussions of pan and scan, Criterion video discs, and a whole lot more. So go back and see what you’ve been missing – you can always use the search box in the upper right hand corner to see if your favorite film or director is listed, but if not, drop me a line and we’ll see if we can’t do something about it. We’ve just updated our storage space on the blog, so there will be plenty more to come, so check it out – see you at the movies!

So click on the button & see what you can find!

Leonard Maltin’s 2015 Movie Guide – The Last Edition

Friday, December 26th, 2014

This is the last – the very last – edition of this iconic, essential movie guide.

Leonard Maltin’s Movie Guide has been a staple for film fans both serious and casual for decades – providing succinct summaries, reliable cast and director information, correct running times and aspect ratios, and w whole lot more. Maltin is a popular movie critic, so it’s not depth you get here, but encyclopedic grasp, much as with the late Ephraim Katz’s Film Encyclopedia, both pre-internet era staples. In recent times, the Internet Movie Data Base and to a lesser extent The All Movie Guide online have supplanted both these works, but with both these sources, you get facts, but not reliable opinions – it’s all fan stuff. The great thing about Maltin’s book is that it covers the classics, as well as more mainstream films, and Maltin knows what the films are trying to do – whether they’re aiming for something beyond mere entertainment, or just hoping for sheer escapism.

Thus, the news that Maltin is hanging it up after 45 years with this volume, because he simply can’t compete with the ubiquity of the web, is sad indeed. This newest edition omits silent films for the most part, and dropped some features that were useful in previous editions (lists of credits for actors and directors at the back of the book, for example), but what makes Maltin’s guide unique and extremely valuable is the even-handedness of his critical appraisal of each film, with entries written both by Maltin himself and his band of colleagues, especially Luke Sader. If you get this last edition – which right now is #1 on Amazon’s film book list – please get the oversize paperback edition, not the smaller pocket book size. The typeface is bigger, and the book is much easier to skim through, looking for your favorite titles.

And that’s a pleasure that you can’t replicate on IMDb. Just open Maltin’s book to any page, and start reading. Listed in strict alphabetical order, you’ll soon be careening from high to low art within just a few entries, browsing through cinema history in the company of someone who really does know the entire history of cinema. Not every film is listed here, of course- they couldn’t be, or the book would be several million pages long. And sometimes you’ll disagree with Maltin, whether you’re a serious academic or merely a recreational film viewer. But for an overview of film history available on both TV and DVD as well as streaming on the web, Maltin’s guide is hard to beat, and I for one am sorry to see it go.

As Pete Hammond wrote in Deadline of Maltin’s Movie Guide, “Director Noah Baumbach told Maltin he grew up with the book and actually referenced it in his 2010 film Greenberg. When someone asks the morose Ben Stiller how he’s doing, Stiller answers ‘okay’ and guesses ‘Leonard Maltin would give him two stars.’ Once Were Warriors director Lee Tamahori told Maltin, ‘I am thrilled to just be on the same page as Once Upon A Time In The West.’  Alexander Payne said a review in the Guide meant the most to him because it was ‘for the ages.’ Maltin says Billy Bob Thornton told him he spotted a copy for sale once in the Singapore Airport and it made him feel like there was a touch of home. In fact the Guide is sold around the world and has been translated into Italian and Swedish, among other languages.” For 45 years, Maltin’s Movie Guide was an essential film reference tool, and remains so today.

After 45 years, Maltin’s Movie Guide is no more – get a copy while you can.

New Book – Recovering 1940s Horror Cinema: Traces of a Lost Decade

Wednesday, December 24th, 2014

Here’s a new, groundbreaking book on the horror film in the 1940s.

As the editors, Mario DeGiglio-Bellemare, Charlie Ellbé and Kristopher Woofter note of this excellent collection of new essays, “the 1940s is a lost decade in horror cinema, undervalued and written out of most horror scholarship. This collection revises, reframes, and deconstructs persistent critical binaries that have been put in place by scholarly discourse to label 1940s horror as somehow inferior to a ‘classical’ period or ‘canonical’ mode of horror in the 1930s, especially as represented by the monster films of Universal Studios.

The book’s four sections re-evaluate the historical, political, economic, and cultural factors informing 1940s horror cinema to introduce new theoretical frameworks and to open up space for scholarly discussion of 1940s horror genre hybridity, periodization, and aesthetics. Chapters focused on Gothic and Grand Guignol traditions operating in forties horror cinema, 1940s proto-slasher films, the independent horrors of the Poverty Row studios, and critical reevaluations of neglected hybrid films such as The Vampire’s Ghost (1945) and ’slippery’ auteurs such as Robert Siodmak and Sam Newfield, work to recover a decade of horror that has been framed as having fallen victim to repetition, exhaustion, and decline.”

In essays by Paul Corupe, Blair Davis, Louise Fenton, Anne Golden, David Hanley, Karen Herland, Mark Jancovich, Kier-La Janisse, Cory Legassic, Peter Marra, Ian Olney, Dennis R. Perry, Selma Purac, Gary D. Rhodes and Rick Trembles, the authors examine a wide range of Gothic films from the era, including such long forgotten gems as Lew Landers’ Return of the Vampire (1944), Bela Lugosi’s last “straight” turn as a rapacious creature of the night; the long-neglected Universal Inner Sanctum series of films, starring Lon Chaney Jr.; and the above-mentioned The Vampire’s Ghost, directed by Lesley Selander from a script by the great Leigh Brackett, who would later go on to work on Howard Hawks’ The Big Sleep (1946), and a little film called Star Wars (1977). All of these films, and the other works discussed in this volume, deserve greater attention, and this superb group of essays by some of the most accomplished younger writers in the field is real contribution to the existing literature on the subject.

As critic L. Andrew Cooper says of the volume, “Recovering 1940s Horror Cinema: Traces of a Lost Decade surveys that touch on horror’s fate during the 1940s, and is a must-read for genre scholars and for anyone who teaches film history. Not only does this collection of essays offer an overwhelming amount of evidence—including accessible, teachable examples—of the genre’s vitality during the period, but it also shows Gothic horror’s presence in film noir’s monstrous gangsters, melodrama’s silenced women, and other cinematic traditions more often discussed as vital to the 1940s. The book’s diverse perspectives offer productive challenges to long-held assumptions about the boundaries and histories of film genres; it’s a great learning opportunity for experienced researchers or for educated readers coming to the subject for its inherently dark pleasures.”

Read more about this intriguing new book by clicking here, or on the image above.

Adrian Danks on Bruce Conner’s Report (1967)

Saturday, December 20th, 2014

Bruce Conner’s classic film Report is a masterpiece of montage, dealing with the death of JFK.

As Adrian Danks noted in his brilliantly detailed essay on the film in the journal Senses of Cinema, “completed over a three-year period, Bruce Conner’s Report [1967] is one of the key works of 1960s avant-garde cinema, a refinement and extension of the filmmaker-artist’s film work to that date. In some respects, it is a return to the montage, association and found footage driven preoccupations of his first cinematic opus, the truly seminal and massively influential A Movie (1958), and something of a condensation of Conner’s key interests in popular culture, mass media, the contemporary power of celebrity, recontextualization, and the constitutive significance of cataclysmic violence to both the United States and what we might call late modernity.

Although enmeshed in the nature of cinema itself, as well as our experience of it (it is in essence both a visceral and intellectual encounter), Report equally resonates with Conner’s significant work in sculptural assemblage and what would become known as conceptual art. Initially conceived in the immediate aftermath of Kennedy’s murder, Report is a deeply felt work, an often lacerating but emotionally draining attempt to deal with John F. Kennedy’s death and the ways it was exploited by the mass media, particularly television (in fact, its use of such material as the “cross-hairs” included in countdown leader suggest an even greater level of culpability). It is also, aesthetically, a prescient but undervalued work, prefiguring the structuralist turn in much avant-garde cinema in the late 1960s.

Report is a film that asks for an affective response from its viewer but also requires forensic attention to detail and structure. It is never an easy film to watch. Roughly divided into uneven halves, it relies upon the principles of association, repetition, variation, recognition, and the often-contrapuntal relationship between sound and image to try to capture the “feeling” of the event. Conner’s decision to only partially ‘illustrate’ Kennedy’s assassination and its aftermath is both pragmatically and intellectually apt. Initially, Conner wanted to make a more conventional and fully-formed documentary on Kennedy’s death (how conventional even this film would have ended up being is another matter).

Living in Kennedy’s birthplace, Brookline, Massachusetts, at the time of his death, Conner originally intended to draw heavily upon television archives and to film the burial he expected to occur in his own neighborhood (Kennedy was ultimately buried at Arlington National Cemetery in Pennsylvania). The ambitious nature of Conner’s project was partly driven by the Ford Foundation Grant he had received (one of ten given to experimental filmmakers in 1964), but was also an outcome of an uncommon obsession (though perhaps quite common at the time) with the assassination. In this regard, Report can be considered as something of a mourning work, an attempt to deal with and actually register Kennedy’s death (an aspect that Conner builds into the form and structure of the film itself).”

Another masterpiece of the cinema, which deserves a much wider audience.

The Horrifying Future of Movies – Nothing But Franchises

Thursday, December 18th, 2014

Here’s an absolutely brilliant and deeply impassioned piece by author Mark Harris.

Writing in the journal Grantland, Harris sees a future of nothing but utterly predictable franchise films, made by cost accountants and others with no real investment in film as an art form, which it most certainly is. As he writes, in part, “I believe that what studios see when they look at the bumper-to-bumper barricade of a 2015–20 lineup they’ve built is a sense of security — a feeling that they have gotten their ducks in a row. But these lists, with their tremulous certainty that there is safety in numbers, especially when numbers come at the end of a title, represent something else as well: rigidity and fear. If you asked a bunch of executives without a creative bone in their bodies to craft a movie lineup for which the primary goal is to prevent failure, this is exactly what the defensive result would look like. It’s a bulwark that has been constructed using only those tools with which they feel comfortable — spreadsheets, P&L statements, demographic studies, risk-avoidance principles, and a calendar. There is no evident love of movies in this lineup, or even just joy in creative risk. Only a dread of losing.”

You can see the entire article by clicking here, or on the image above; essential reading.

The Permanent Crisis of Film Criticism by Mattias Frey

Monday, December 15th, 2014

Here’s an interesting book on the current state of film criticism – a real concern of this blog.

Published by Amsterdam University Press, Frey’s book posits that “film criticism is in crisis. Dwelling on the many film journalists made redundant at newspapers, magazines, and other ‘old media’ in past years, commentators have voiced existential questions about the purpose and worth of the profession in the age of WordPress blogospheres and proclaimed the ‘death of the critic.’ Bemoaning the current anarchy of internet amateurs and the lack of authoritative critics, many journalists and academics claim that in the digital age, cultural commentary has become dumbed down and fragmented into niche markets. Mattias Frey, arguing against these claims, examines the history of film critical discourse in France, Germany, the United Kingdom, and the United States. He demonstrates that since its origins, film criticism has always found itself in crisis: the need to show critical authority and the anxieties over challenges to that authority have been longstanding concerns.”

It’s refreshing to see someone taking a level-headed, non-apocalyptic look at this issue; as Frey argues, “film criticism has always found itself in crisis,” from the earliest iterations of the cinema, and the rise of poplar “fan magazines” as opposed to the serious study of the cinema.The gap between pop culture “reviews” of the latest blockbuster – actually just opinion pieces with little real critical analysis, usually posted in daily newspapers or on the web, and considered by most readers not familiar with the study of film to be serious reviews, and work that actually takes the film apart, places it within a critical and historical context, measures it against similar films from the past, and operates from a detailed understanding of the medium as a whole – has been an ongoing issue in film criticism from the 1900s onward.

Frey’s book offers an excellent overview of the history of this contest between superficial, throwaway writing and actual critical analysis, and as he puts it, demonstrates that “the need to show critical authority and the anxieties over challenges to that authority have been longstanding concerns” in film history, theory and criticism. This is fascinating and important reading, demonstrating that the problem here isn’t so much the web – it’s the fact that many of the people writing on the web on film, as well as numerous other topics, substitute their own personal likes and dislikes for any real, informed analysis. In film as in all the arts, the audience is really an afterthought; it’s what the creators of any given work of art want to express that is paramount.

You can read a pdf of the introduction the book by clicking here, or on the image above.

Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook

Saturday, November 29th, 2014

Looking for a truly original, really scary horror film? Try Jennifer Kent’s debut feature, The Babadook.

As Wikipedia notes, “Kent studied at the National Institute of Dramatic Art [in Australia]—where she learned acting alongside Babadook’s lead actor, Essie Davis—and graduated in 1991. She then worked primarily as an actor in the film industry for over two decades. Kent eventually lost her passion for acting by the end of the 20th century and sent a written proposal to Danish filmmaker Lars von Trier, asking if she could assist on the film set of von Trier’s 2003 drama film, Dogville, to learn from the director. Kent’s proposal was accepted and she considers the experience her film school, citing the importance of stubbornness as the key lesson she learned.

Prior to Babadook, Kent’s first-ever feature film, she had completed a short film, titled Monster, and an episode of the television series Two Twisted. Kent explained in May 2014 that the origins of Babadook can be found in Monster, which she calls ‘baby Babadook.’ . . . Kent has stated that she sought to tell a story about facing up to the darkness with ourselves, the ‘fear of going mad’ and an exploration of parenting from a ‘real perspective’ . . .  In terms of the characters, Kent said that it was important that both characters are loving and lovable, so that “we [the audience] really feel for them” . . .

Kent drew from her experience on the set of Dogville for the assembling of her production team, as she observed that von Triers was surrounded by a well-known ‘family of people.’ Therefore, Kent sought her own ‘family of collaborators to work with for the long term.’ Unable to find all of the suitable people within the Australian film industry, Kent hired Polish director of photography Radek Ladczuk, for whom Babadook was his first-ever English-language film, and American illustrator Alexander Juhasz. In terms of film influences, Kent cited 1970s and ’80s horror—including [John Carpenter's version of] The Thing, Halloween, Les Yeux Sans Visage, Texas Chain Saw Massacre, The Shining and Let The Right One In—as well as Vampyr and Nosferatu.”

Partially crowd funded on Kickstarter, and completed for roughly $1.5 million US dollars, The Babadook has received numerous awards on the festival circuit, including a screening at the Sundance Film festival, and when it opened theatrically in the United States on November 28, 2014, the critical response was equally adulatory. But since it isn’t a mainstream release, and as yet is available only on Australian DVD – an all region version, however, so I bought it immediately – you can only see it on demand, if you’re lucky enough to have it on your cable system, or in a theater if you live in New York City or another major metropolis.

This, of course, is the real tragedy here – this is an intelligent, absolutely riveting and completely original film that will keep you guessing right up to the last frame, and at the same time scare you to death, as a horror film should, but without the requisite gore and misogyny that seems to mar the horror genre of late – and it deserves the widest possible audience. There are echoes of Henry James’ The Turn of the Screw here, at least for me, and traces of De Maupasssant’s The Horla, and the overall feel of the film is akin to Jack Clayton’s 1961 masterpiece The Innocents, but The Babadook is really a completely unique vision, immaculately photographed in CinemaScope and suitably subdued color.

As Anthony Lane wrote in his ecstatic review of the film in The New Yorker, “let a law be passed, requiring all horror films to be made by female directors. It would curb so many antiquated tropes: the use of young women, say, underdressed or not dressed at all, who are barely fleshed out as characters before that flesh is coveted, wounded, or worse. Beyond that, the law would restore horror to its rightful place as a chamber of secrets, ripe for emotional inquisition. Such thoughts are prompted by The Babadook, a fine new Australian film, written and directed by Jennifer Kent. This is about a woman in peril, yet it has no truck with the notion that she is a mere victim. At times, indeed, the peril seems to be, if not her fault, at least of her own making. Is she the sum of all fears, or the root of them?

Amelia (Essie Davis) is a widow, living in a small and ill-lit house with Samuel (Noah Wiseman), her only child. He is unmanageable, but, then, his origins were dire; his father was killed in a car crash, nearly seven years ago, as he drove Amelia, who was in labor with Samuel, to the hospital. Now it’s just the two of them, although they are soon joined by an unexpected third. The Babadook is towering and dark; he looms taller as you look at him, like an unhappy memory that swells in the traumatized mind. He wears a top hat, like the Artful Dodger, and his hands could be a child’s drawing of hands—a splay of simple spikes. He cleaves to what we ask of our monsters, that they be both amorphous and acute: oozily hard to pin down, but manifestly there, like a knife against the throat. His name has a nice Australian tang; Aboriginal legend tells of a frog called the Tiddalik, with an insatiable thirst.”

Watch the trailer by clicking here, or on the image above; then see the film as soon as you can – it’s that good.

Show Them No Mercy (1935)

Thursday, November 27th, 2014

Here’s a direct link to the Depression era crime film Show Them No Mercy – absolutely worth watching.

Kubec Glasmon, the almost forgotten co-author of the script for Public Enemy, the 1931 William Wellman film that shot James Cagney to stardom, had a real knack for hard-boiled crime drama, and though this film from 1935, Show Them No Mercy, has been unjustly neglected, it’s a stunning piece of work, and you can see it here, now, by simply clicking on the image above.

Produced by Nebraska native Darryl F. Zanuck for his Twentieth Century Film Company, just before he bought out the Fox Film Corporation to create 20th Century Fox, Show Them No Mercy tells the story of a young couple and their infant daughter who seek shelter from a rainstorm in a seemingly abandoned house, only to discover a bunch of gangsters holed up inside, with lots of hot money on their hands. They’ve just successfully pulled off a kidnapping, have $200,000 in ransom money, and want to get out of the country, but the question is, how?

Initially too innocent to realize the danger they’re in, the young couple soon figures out that the group will literally stop at nothing, especially the psychotic trigger man Pitch (Bruce Cabot, best known for his work in King Kong, and absolutely brilliant here in a role based on real-life gunman Vincent “Mad Dog” Coll) and the gang’s suave leader, Tobey (the always reliable Cesar Romero, turning in another top flight performance).

To tell you more about what happens next would be a mistake, but take my word for it – this is a film that has been unfairly overlooked, and at 75 minutes, moves along like a streak of lightning, with an ending that’s still shocking nearly a century after the film was made.

As TCM notes, “the film was inspired by the kidnapping in May 1935 of George Weyerhaeuser, scion of a wealthy lumber family, who was released after ransom money was paid. The ransom money, which the FBI arranged so that the serial numbers could be used as clues, was then traced, and the kidnappers were arrested and sentenced to long prison terms,” but that’s not what happens here. Glasmon’s script follows an entirely different trajectory, leading up to a satisfactorily brutal conclusion.

Suffice it to say that the film raised a number of eyebrows when it was first released, and barely managed to scrape through Code censorship, thanks largely to the adept machinations of producer Zanuck, who was an expert in telling the Code authorities what they wanted to hear, and then doing precisely as he pleased with the film itself. The result is astonishing.

Now you can see the film for yourself – this is a real find!

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. To contact Prof. Dixon for an interview, reach him at 402.472.6064 or wdixon1@unl.edu. Visit him at his website, wheelerwinstondixon.com

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