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Rating: 
Summary: Essential Book
Review: A inexhaustible book, that truly deserves its title. Jonathan Rosenbaum is a sparkling writer, an absolute master in film criticism and analysis, and his brilliant fight in favor of the diversity and quality of cinema is historical.
Rating: 
Summary: Welcome to a new world of cinema
Review: Jonathan Rosenbaum's new volume of film criticism is somewhat different from his earlier collections. Long critical of the hegemony of Hollywood and the way commerical hype has overshadowed criticism, Rosenbaum's new book pays strikingly little attention to movies the average American is likely to have heard of, let alone seen. Whereas past volumes contained notable polemics against Woody Allen, "Mississipi Burning," and "Forrest Gump," Hollywood pictures are rather rare here. There are Rosenbaum's vigorous defences of "Eyes Wide Shut," and "A.I.", as well as a unsurpringly contemptuous article on "Pretty Woman." There is a cold dissection of the evasions of "Taxi Driver" that is especially acute about how Travis Bickle's racism is whitewashed, so to speak. "Fargo" is compared to Krzysztof Kieslowski's "Decalogue" and does not come off well in the bargain. There are unsurprisingly respectful articles in praise of "Greed", "M", "Rear Window," and Orson Welles. Somewhat on the edge of the average American moviegoer's consciousness, there are articles in praise of "Ghost Dog," and "Waking Life." But overall this is a book that is decidedly internationalist and highbrow in its choice, although Rosenbaum's reasoning can lead to the most surprising choices. One should look at the appendix where Rosenbaum lists his one thousand favorite movies, with his favorite one hundred starred with an asterix. Rather strikingly, only six Oscar winners for best picture make the list, and only one, "The Best Years of Our Lives," makes his top one hundred. Only one nominee for Best Picture since 1988, 1998's "The Thin Red Line," makes the list. Yet almost every major film-maker appears on this list at least once. Although James Cameron is one of the few exceptions, Blake Edwards appears with "The Party," while Brian de Palma appears twice, including 2002's underrated "Femme Fatale." This is a list where Steven Spielberg is represented by his two biggest commercial disappointments. This is a list where "Bram Stoker's Dracula," trumps "The Godfather" movies, where "Bitter Moon" outraces "Chinatown" and "Tess," where "King of Comedy," beats "Taxi Driver," "Raging Bull," and "Goodfellas," and where "The Young Girls of Rochefort" and "Guys and Dolls," are Rosenbaum's favorite musicals. At the same time "Ishtar" is one of Rosenbaum's favorite Hollywood films from the eighties. Meanwhile Chaplin, Welles, Hitchcock, Godard, Bresson, and Kiarostami take pride of place. Looking from this list back to the book proper we see many articles which help explain the many movies on the list that American readers are unlikely to have heard of. The choices are almost defiantly internationalist, highbrow and experimental, and with the exception of J. Hoberman, it is hard to think of any comparable critic sharing the same values and willing to ignore the middlebrow consensus. Who would have thought, before looking at this book, that the most important filmakers in the world today came from Iran and Taiwan? Who would remind its readers that French cinema is not dead but in fact making major works deserving of our attention? Who, on the other hand, would object to the inaccurate sneer that the French are overly fond of Jerry Lewis, but devote an article to one of his directors, Frank Tashlin? In reminding us of Hollywood directors who need to be remembered, who would choose Otto Preminger? And so we get praise of Communist documentarian Jorge Iven's final film. We also read about the perestroika experiment "The Asthenic Syndrome," and the 7 hour Hungarian film "Satantango." Although he praises experimental films from Guy Maddin and Raul Ruiz, he can also praise Jacques Rivette's "Up Down Fragile," as a subtly utopian unprofessional musical. He can devote an article on Bunuel to one of his least known works "The Young One." And he can praise him, Anthony Mann, Charles Burnett, Bela Tarr and other film makers for their moral subtlety and their generous sympathy in the way they eschew simple moralism and simple heroes and villians. How does one praise a critic when one hasn't seen, or even heard of most of the movies he reviews? Looking more closely I might wish that he expanded his criticism of Robert Warshow and his comments in praise of "My Son John," an anti-communist thriller that Warshow argued was an attack on rational thought. And comparisons between the post-war Soviet film scene and cold war Hollywood strike me as a bit glib. On the other hand, Rosenbaum possesses striking virtues, such as independence of mind, a strong appreciation of the formal qualities of a film, and an intense curiosity about other cultures. Anyone reading this book will learn about hordes of filmmakers who have not received their due. These are invaluable qualities, especially in a world where many critics are simply bought and paid for, while others are just not very bright, and others still are so numbed by trivial Hollywood blockbusters they're suckers for the fall and winter Oscarbait.
Rating:
Summary: Welcome to a new world of cinema
Review: Jonathan Rosenbaum's new volume of film criticism is somewhat different from his earlier collections. Long critical of the hegemony of Hollywood and the way commerical hype has overshadowed criticism, Rosenbaum's new book pays strikingly little attention to movies the average American is likely to have heard of, let alone seen. Whereas past volumes contained notable polemics against Woody Allen, "Mississipi Burning," and "Forrest Gump," Hollywood pictures are rather rare here. There are Rosenbaum's vigorous defences of "Eyes Wide Shut," and "A.I.", as well as a unsurpringly contemptuous article on "Pretty Woman." There is a cold dissection of the evasions of "Taxi Driver" that is especially acute about how Travis Bickle's racism is whitewashed, so to speak. "Fargo" is compared to Krzysztof Kieslowski's "Decalogue" and does not come off well in the bargain. There are unsurprisingly respectful articles in praise of "Greed", "M", "Rear Window," and Orson Welles. Somewhat on the edge of the average American moviegoer's consciousness, there are articles in praise of "Ghost Dog," and "Waking Life." But overall this is a book that is decidedly internationalist and highbrow in its choice, although Rosenbaum's reasoning can lead to the most surprising choices. One should look at the appendix where Rosenbaum lists his one thousand favorite movies, with his favorite one hundred starred with an asterix. Rather strikingly, only six Oscar winners for best picture make the list, and only one, "The Best Years of Our Lives," makes his top one hundred. Only one nominee for Best Picture since 1988, 1998's "The Thin Red Line," makes the list. Yet almost every major film-maker appears on this list at least once. Although James Cameron is one of the few exceptions, Blake Edwards appears with "The Party," while Brian de Palma appears twice, including 2002's underrated "Femme Fatale." This is a list where Steven Spielberg is represented by his two biggest commercial disappointments. This is a list where "Bram Stoker's Dracula," trumps "The Godfather" movies, where "Bitter Moon" outraces "Chinatown" and "Tess," where "King of Comedy," beats "Taxi Driver," "Raging Bull," and "Goodfellas," and where "The Young Girls of Rochefort" and "Guys and Dolls," are Rosenbaum's favorite musicals. At the same time "Ishtar" is one of Rosenbaum's favorite Hollywood films from the eighties. Meanwhile Chaplin, Welles, Hitchcock, Godard, Bresson, and Kiarostami take pride of place. Looking from this list back to the book proper we see many articles which help explain the many movies on the list that American readers are unlikely to have heard of. The choices are almost defiantly internationalist, highbrow and experimental, and with the exception of J. Hoberman, it is hard to think of any comparable critic sharing the same values and willing to ignore the middlebrow consensus. Who would have thought, before looking at this book, that the most important filmakers in the world today came from Iran and Taiwan? Who would remind its readers that French cinema is not dead but in fact making major works deserving of our attention? Who, on the other hand, would object to the inaccurate sneer that the French are overly fond of Jerry Lewis, but devote an article to one of his directors, Frank Tashlin? In reminding us of Hollywood directors who need to be remembered, who would choose Otto Preminger? And so we get praise of Communist documentarian Jorge Iven's final film. We also read about the perestroika experiment "The Asthenic Syndrome," and the 7 hour Hungarian film "Satantango." Although he praises experimental films from Guy Maddin and Raul Ruiz, he can also praise Jacques Rivette's "Up Down Fragile," as a subtly utopian unprofessional musical. He can devote an article on Bunuel to one of his least known works "The Young One." And he can praise him, Anthony Mann, Charles Burnett, Bela Tarr and other film makers for their moral subtlety and their generous sympathy in the way they eschew simple moralism and simple heroes and villians. How does one praise a critic when one hasn't seen, or even heard of most of the movies he reviews? Looking more closely I might wish that he expanded his criticism of Robert Warshow and his comments in praise of "My Son John," an anti-communist thriller that Warshow argued was an attack on rational thought. And comparisons between the post-war Soviet film scene and cold war Hollywood strike me as a bit glib. On the other hand, Rosenbaum possesses striking virtues, such as independence of mind, a strong appreciation of the formal qualities of a film, and an intense curiosity about other cultures. Anyone reading this book will learn about hordes of filmmakers who have not received their due. These are invaluable qualities, especially in a world where many critics are simply bought and paid for, while others are just not very bright, and others still are so numbed by trivial Hollywood blockbusters they're suckers for the fall and winter Oscarbait.
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