Formerly known as the Philadelphia International Gay & Lesbian Film Festival.

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Johnson, William. Orson Wells: Of Time and Loss. "Film Quarterly" Vol. 21, No. 1 (1967) pp. 13-24

In this article William Johnson refutes the notion that all of Orson Welles’ films are inferior to Citizen Kane.  Johnson begins by discussing the characteristic features of Welles’s films, which share common stylistic and thematic elements. He then goes on to note Kane’s cinematic achievements are due to its stylistic innovations—wide angle perspective, unusually long takes, abrupt cuts—and notes that Kane actually appears more modern then many films of 1967.  He then goes on to note that while Welles films are often showy, this is only one aspect of them and that some of the most powerful scenes in Kane are void of special effects.  Moreover, Johnson concludes by noting the risk that Welles has taken in all of his films which all carry Kane’s central theme of lost innocence.

This article is relevant to my thesis in that Johnson uses Citizen Kane as a model to which he compares Welles’s other films against. While other critics usually do this in order to highlight the deficiencies in Welles’s films following Kane, Johnson does this in order to point out stylistic and thematic elements that are common throughout Welles’s films. In effect Johnson systematically bolsters both Kane’s status while at the same time giving merit to many of Welles’s films that are often seen as inferior. Moreover, Johnson addresses the extreme passing and jumps in time throughout Citizen Kane, an aspect of the film that Welles addresses on multiple levels. Through his brilliant use of mise-en-scene and editing, Welles juxtaposes images that not only feature Kane at different ages, but also those who know him, giving time a tangible quality.  The extreme lapse and jump in time is an integral and innovative part of Kane’s narrative which as previously stated, hinges upon the use of flashbacks to provide insight into Kane’s life and discover the meaning behind his dying words.

Carlson, Shear and Carringer. "Citizen Kane." PMLA, Vol. 91, No. 5 (Oct., 1976), pp. 918-920

In his letter to the editor of PALMA, Jerry W. Carlson asserts that Robert L. Carringer's article “Rosebud, Dead or Alive: Narrative and Symbolic Structure in Citizen Kane” fails to account for the important rhetorical function of Rosebud in both the opening and closing shots of the film. Carlson argues that the complexity of the film’s ending is implicit throughout the film’s narrative and while the closing scene may appear excessive and stylized, it reiterates many themes that are set up in the opening sequence. Moreover, Carlson writes that Rosebud’s revelation in the final scene does not only reiterate previously established motifs, but also works in conjunction with beginning shots to provide the film with a sense of closure, without undermining its deliberate ambiguity. When viewed rhetorically Carlson believes Citizen Kane’s ending is much more complex then what Carringer’s analysis suggests.

This article relates to my thesis in that it addresses Citizen Kane’s narrative complexities, which simultaneously provides both closure and ambiguity. Throughout the film we follow Thompson as meets with 5 people who were close to Kane.  Throughout each interview Thompson, like the viewer expects to learn more about the newspaper tycoon, but with each succeeding flashback, Kane’s depiction becomes more and more elusive. Thus, Welles subverts viewer expectation by suggesting a conclusion about Kane will be reached through access to the past, preserving both the film and Kane’s ambiguity.  Similarly, the beginning and opening sequences frame the film in such a way—relating the snow globe and Kane’s last words in the beginning sequence to the burning sled in the last shot— to suggest closure, yet at the same time ultimately providing an ambiguous image.  The narrative complexities behind Citizen Kane are just one of the many reasons it is hailed as on of the greatest films of all time.

Carringer, Robert L. "Citizen Kane." Journal of Aesthetic Education, Vol. 9, No. 2, Special Issue: Film IV: Eight Study Guides (Apr., 1975), pp. 32-49

In his essay on Citizen Kane Robert Carringer describes the history behind Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane, both of which have been labeled by prominent film critics as the greatest of their kind. While he made about a dozen films, Citizen Kane is regarded as Welles’s one undisputed masterpiece. According to Carringer, Welles’s approach to film was innovative and resembled that of experimental filmmakers as his primary objective was always to find new ways to work within the cinematic medium. Welles often starred in his own films and his narratives typically portray the downfall of a powerful figure. Moreover, Carringer writes of how Welles eschewed the traditional Hollywood style of editing and cinematography in favor of more obtrusive camera and editing devices that draw attention to the medium. Welles’s background in theater earned him a reputation that granted him entry into Hollywood and allowed him to sign an unprecedented contract with RKO that granted him full control over Citizen Kane. Carringer notes that Kane was an extremely collaborative project and that its cinematic achievements are in large part due to the screenwriter, musical score composer, and cinematographer who were some of Hollywood’s best talents. Moreover, Carringer asserts that while Citizen Kane is revolutionary, this is largely due to its fusion of previously established techniques and materials that when combined, produce a film that is completely unique. After Kane, Welles worked on a number of films that achieved little to modest success and thus Citizen Kane remains Welles’s greatest cinematic achievement.

    This article pertains to my thesis as it addresses the innovative cinematic techniques used in Citizen Kane, and specifically Welles’s extensive use of deep focus shots.  Such shots were rare at the time due to limited technology and their effects proved to be extremely dramatic.  These shots require a small camera opening and thus necessitate an enormous amount of light. In order to achieve this Welles had to use special lights, lenses, and superfast film stock.  The results however, constituted an innovation in filmmaking as deep focus shots eliminated the reliance upon editing to break down a dramatic space, as was standard practice before Kane. With extreme depth of field, all objects appear in sharp focus and thus allowing the dramatic center to shift within a continuous shot. The deep focus shots used throughout Kane are not only innovative, but also serve many different functions.  Consider for example the flashback sequence when Walter Thatcher officially becomes Kane’s financial and personal guardian.  The sequence begins with a young Kane playing in the snow. Mrs. Kane  is placed in the foreground signing Charles away, while Mr. Thatcher and Charles’s father occupy the middle ground, and Kane remains in the background playing in the snow.  Not only is the shot beautifully composed, but the depth of focus allows the viewer to attend to all aspects of the shot, which foreshadows Kane’s loss of innocence. The deep focus shots used throughout Citizen Kane are an aspect of the film that is highly regarded one of the reasons this film often labeled as the greatest of all time.

Monahan, Mark. "Music that makes a man a killer" The Daily Telegraph 1 July 2006. 1 December 2008.

In this article Mark Monahan pays homage to Bernard Herrmann, without whose contributions Monahan feels cinema would be unimaginable. Born in New York to Russian Jewish Immigrants, Herrmann studied at NYU and made his conducting debut on Broadway at only 20 years old.  In 1934 he began composing and conducting for CBS radio where he met Orson Welles who helped launch his career as a musical score artist in 1941 with Citizen Kane. Hermann has a wide range of film credits including The Magnificent Ambersons, Cape Fear, Jason and the Argonauts. After working on Kane, Herrmann worked on Hangover Square (1941), The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951), and On Dangerous Ground (1952), before teaming up with Alfred Hitchcock, creating what Monahan calls “one of the most fruitful collaborations in the history of cinema”. One of Herrmann’s most famous musical scores is the one he created for Psycho, where employed a strings-only orchestra and solidified his legacy with the powerful and unforgettable musical shrieks of the shower scene. In 1966 Herrmann and Hitchcock parted ways after a disagreeing over the musical score for Hitchock’s next project, and their collaboration ended. After that Herrmann worked in both the French and American new waves, and ended his career in 1976 with Martin Scorsase’s Taxi Driver (1976).

The musical score is an integral part of any film.  Just as editing guides the viewer’s attention, the musical score sets the tone of a scene or sequence and gives the audience privileged access to the narrative based on the musical foreshadowing. In this article Monahan recognizes the power and brilliance behind Herrmann’s scores, as they not only complement the action but also are the action, and allow the viewer entry and insight into the inner lives of the characters.  Herrmann’s scores permeate characters psyches and surroundings, and as Monahan points out, when combined with Kane’s images, the effect is nothing short of brilliant. The opening scene, which Monahan discusses, is perhaps where Herrmann’s score is most powerful, as it works in conjunction with Welles’s visuals and sets up the film’s themes of Rosebud (and loss of innocence) and ambition (Kane’s ultimate downfall). Herrmann uses these concepts and creates leitmotifs, which are heard throughout the film.  In the opening sequence for example, as the camera ascends upon Xanadu, Kane’s estate, Herrmann uses low brass and woodwind to create an effect that is both eerie and ominous, giving insight into the private life behind Kane’s sacred fortress and setting up the film’s musical theme. Herrmann’s powerful score is one of the most psychologically defining aspects of the film and constitutes a powerful and lends support to its claim as one of the greatest films of all time.

Damico, James. News Marches in Place: Kane's Newsreal as a Cutting Critique. Cinema Journal, Vol. 16, No. 2 Spring 1977 pp51-58

In this article author James Damico argues that the newsreel in Citizen Kane serves a variety of functions, and when juxtaposed with the rest of the film, actually provides a critique on newsreels themselves. The News on the March sequence is often seen as demonstrating the inability of simple biographical facts to account for the entirety of a man’s life, and provides a counterpart to the rest of the film, which gives a more ambiguous and less reductive understanding of existence. This inability is actually what drives the narrative, as Thompson, the reporter, sets out to find truths about Kane that are unaddressed in the newsreel. Moreover, Damico asserts that the criticism of the newsreel not only exists on a narrative level, but also in many aspects of the film, and is especially evident in the film’s camerawork and editing. Moreover, the author goes on to suggest that the ubiquity of still photographs present throughout the News on the March and the rest of the film proper provides evidence to suggest Welles’s questioning of the general concept montage. Damico concludes that the concept of montage is completely at odds with Welles’s own concept of filmmaking, and that while he sometimes utilizes montage, his films consist more so of discrete and coherent sequences.   

The newsreel in Citizen Kane speaks to the film’s innovative narrative structure and fits in with many of the films reoccurring motifs. The film begins with an end—the death of Charles Foster Kane—and the narrative that follows takes us through a retrospective investigation of his life. The film’s structure, like Thompson’s investigation and Kane’s life, is extremely fragmented. This is apparent not only through the films non-linear narration, but also through its stylistic fusion of multiple genres, which is clearly evident through the use of the newsreel.  Moreover, the newsreel itself is fragmented and incomplete and presents the puzzle with a missing piece that is the reason behind the investigation that drives the narrative. Additionally, in noting that the newsreel is at odds with Welles’s traditional style of filmmaking, Domino highlights the fact that the newsreel is used deliberately to serve a larger function within the film. Thus, this article pertains to my thesis because it addresses Citizen Kane’s stylistic innovations and demonstrates how many aspects of the film operate on multiple levels—the newsreel in this case— creating the depiction of Kane as an elusive and contradictory persona.

Street, Sarah. Citizen Kane. History Today 1996 Mar; 46 (3): 48-52.

    In this article Sarah Street discusses Citizen Kane with respect to its iconic status, making note of the importance of Welles’ politics in understanding both its contemporary context, as well as publisher William R. Hearst’s reaction against the film. Street highlights the similarities between Hearst and Kane, and feels that Welles uses Kane to criticize Hearst, citing Welles’s opposing political ideology as evidence. Street makes note of film’s role in the late 1930s which was beginning to exert a great deal of influence on public opinion, and suggests that Welles uses Citizen Kane to make a larger statement about the status of newspapers and journalism of the time. Despite the Hearst controversy surrounding the film, the author goes on to acknowledge Kane’s cinematic achievements, many of which were achieved through the use of special effects.  Street concludes her article by acknowledging Welles as the clear visionary behind Kane, and notes that the film uncovers “universal truths” which will make its legacy long lasting. 
    This article relates to my thesis in that it demonstrates the influence and impact of Citizen Kane and to a larger extent the power of film in general. Despite the political and social controversy surrounding the film and Hearst’s initial attempts to stop its release, Citizen Kane’s legacy proves that a great film will always be recognized and acknowledged as a great film. Moreover, Street recognizes Kane’s cinematic achievements and cites the films formal and stylistic cinematic aspects as reason behind the film’s venerable status, rather then its narrative that may or may not allude the life of Hearst.

     Chapter two of Terry Christensen and Peter Haas’ book Projecting Politics, “The Making of a Message” explores how political messages can be most effectively projected through film production and techniques. The authors state the most common way films send political messages is through the screenplay, which entails the subject matter, characters and plotting. In political films, dialogue is of the utmost importance; more words are spoken and what is said is given greater weight. Dialogue is a precarious aspect of the film because if too much is said then the movie is deemed inactive and boring; if the political implications are too obvious, the effectiveness of the messages can be subverted; and if the film is too understated, the political messages might be overlooked. Therefore, the authors argue that political films are most effective when they allow audiences to infer their own conclusions, or at least let them think that they have.
     This notion is relevant to my thesis, as the political messages in Casablanca are not verbally broadcasted throughout the film; but rather, they are embedded in dialogue that is relevant to the narrative of the story. A perfect example of this is when Rick says, “Louis, this is a start of a beautiful friendship”- words that allow us to reach our own conclusions. We may interpret the words on a surface level, as simply reconciliation between friends within a story; or we may look beneath the surface and infer the political implications of the words – the start of a great friendship between an American and a Frenchmen to signify supporting an American alliance with European countries to fight against the Nazi regime.
     The authors also discuss movie conventions that can be used in a political film to minimize the risk of controversy. The most relevant to my thesis is personalization, when movies with a political subject matter focus on the personal drama of politically active characters, making them more acceptable and accessible to mass audiences. This is in direct accordance with my thesis, as it supports the notion that because Casablanca works so well as a character drama, it is such an effective form of propaganda.
     Another important element of the film that the chapter touches upon is the importance of casting. The casting of movie stars influences the effectives of the political messages on the public. “Stars are the creation of the public: political and psychological models who demonstrate some quality we admire" (33). This notion of the star system and the affect it has on viewers is pertinent to my thesis because it shows the profound capacity of the character Rick Blaine, and the actor Humphrey Bogart, to sway public opinion. The book states, “the so-called star system frequently cues the audience to political values transmitted by a movie" (33). Thus the casting of an actor who is renowned as an American icon, like Humphrey Bogart, reassures audiences that the movie they are seeing supports National (American) values and serves to enhance the legitimacy of the political messages being sent.

In Black City Cinema, Paula Massood shows how popular films reflected the massive social changes that resulted from the Great Migration of African Americans from the rural South to cities in the North, West, and Mid-West during the first three decades of the twentieth century. Paula Massood demonstrates how the urban has functioned as a central organizing trope in the articulation of Black culture, progress, protest and subjectivity. Massood probes into the relationship of place and time, showing how urban settings became an intrinsic element of African American film as Black people became more firmly rooted in urban spaces and more visible as historical and political subjects. Illuminating the intersections of film, history, politics, and urban discourse, she considers the chief genres of African American and Hollywood narrative film: the black cast musicals of the 1920s and the "race" films of the early sound era to blaxploitation and hood films, as well as the work of Spike Lee toward the end of the century.

The most relevant chapter would be the second, which discusses city motifs in race films from the early sound era. Her two main examples of race films are The Scar of Shame and Within Our Gates as the illustrations for African American urbanscapes. She also goes on the discuss how the film upheld ideals of individualism and ambition, but was still targeted by both whites and blacks. She also states that the film’s message is, “racially motivated violence directed at African Americans was often caused by economic jealousy or lust rather than any actual illegal acts perpetrated by its victims.” This goes against Birth of a Nation clearly and she also mentions the race riots that occurred in Chicago during the time.

Gaines, Jane. “Fire and Desire: Race, Melodrama and Oscar Micheaux”. Black American Cinema. Ed. Manthia Diawara. New York: Routledge, 1993, 49-70.

The work of early Black filmmakers is given serious attention for the first time in “Black American Cinema”. Individual essays consider such topics as what a Black film tradition might be, the relation between Black American Filmmakers and filmmakers from the Diaspora, the nature of Black film aesthetics, the artist's place within the community, and the representation of Black imaginary.

Both movies, Within Our Gates and The Birth of a Nation, have caused a lot of protest because of their racially brutal images. However the protests had different focuses. People did not want to see Micheaux ‘s film because it was too much of the truth, and people did not want to see Griffith’s film because it did not have enough. Gaines argues that the main issue was the idea of truth. The biggest difference between the two films is the fact that Micheaux has his film focus on black life and the middle class. Another interesting point that Gaines makes is that, “while the White supremacist version of the Civil War survived, Micheaux’s African American history lesson disappeared and was classified by film scholars as lost.” She discusses how the Spanish version, La Negra, that was found 70 years later is just a skeleton of the original. The lynching scene seems tangential to the story line, and yet it is the most important scene it seems for Micheaux. By turning this scene into such an important spectacle, he was trying to encourage indignation in the Black audiences, according to Gaines. Going along with many other articles on the subject, she discusses the cross-cutting in this sequence and how Micheaux displayed his unconventional style in his films.

In a feat of historical investigation and vivid storytelling, this film biographer takes on one of the greatest and most complex figures in American entertainment, Oscar Micheaux, the son of freed slaves who formed his own film production company after Hollywood failed to bid high enough for film rights to his stories. Paced like a novel, the book is sprinkled liberally with Micheaux's own words. Micheaux's career began to fizzle, along with race films, in the late 1930s, and he died in obscurity in 1951. Rediscovered decades later, he is now considered, as McGilligan puts it, the Jackie Robinson of American film.

The book overall is a wonderful resource on background knowledge regarding aspects of Micheaux's life that others cannot find easily. The most important chapter would be Chapter 9, focusing on the years between 1919 and 1921. Since Within Our Gates came out in 1920, it gives a timeline of the events that were going on right before the movie and while filming was taking place. You can also learn some really interesting facts about the movie and how Micheaux was able to get this film out to the masses and how the original version has been lost. We also learn that he likes to always have some sort of message in his films, despite having them just be entertaining. The author also considers the flashback of the lynching to be “one of the most powerful sequences in Micheaux's body of work”.

Siomopoulos, Anna. "The Birth of a Black Cinema: Race, Reception, and Oscar Micheaux's Within Our Gates," The Moving Image: The Journal of the Association of Moving Image Archivists, vol. 6.2 (Fall), 111-118, 2006.

This article talks about Oscar Micheaux's film and how it provided a rebuttal to Griffith's depiction of black violence and corruption with a story of the injustices faced by African Americans in a racist society. Siomopoulos primarily talks about the style of editing that were in both films.  Siomopoulos states, “The complicated style of Micheaux's editing works to constitute a spectator who is more politically critical than the spectator constructed by the classical Hollywood style of Griffith's film” It compares the editing of the two films and talks about how live music plays a part in the spectatorship of the film.

This article helps to show the similarities and differences between the two films, but it uses Birth of A Nation as the main comparison piece. This helps to answer the question about how the films incorporate their views in opposite ways, by explaining the cutting. It also breaks down and explains the narrative juxtapositions in the films. Birth of a Nation uses crosscutting to present a very simple opposition between white virtue and black villainy; in contrast, Micheaux's film uses a complex editing pattern to present a larger social vision of many different, competing political positions within both white and African American society. so this article helps greatly to answer the questions about how these two film relate to each other, in style and content.

Baldwin, Davarian L. Chicago's New Negroes: Modernity, the Great Migration, and Black Urban Life. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 2007.

While the book follows the stories and innovations of Madame CJ Walker, Thomas A. Dorsey, Oscar Micheaux and baseball's Rube Foster, it also provides a space in which we get to hear the thoughts and words of everyday people, those who sat in beauty parlors, enjoyed the early years of cinema, and made a way despite the racial, social and economic limitations. While the book is a scholarly monograph, Baldwin's expedition into social and cultural theory is so nuanced as to make the book accessible to a wider audience. Davarian Baldwin argues overall that this mass consumer marketplace generated a vibrant intellectual life and planted seeds of political dissent against the dehumanizing effects of white capitalism.

This book overall is great wonderful if you want to learn about black innovators in Chicago. But if you are interested in Oscar Micheaux in particular, then the best chapter would be the fourth entitled, “The Birth of Two Nations: White fears, black jeers, and the rise of a race film consciousness”.  The chapter begins by discussing the history and impact of Birth of a Nation. It was an escape in which the traditional white power structure of the South was asserted and black migrants had never come north. But Baldwin proves this point invalid in his historical evidence and he also shows that Griffith’s film created two nations because people like Micheaux had to respond to the story that was told in Birth of Nation. A really interesting point that he mentions is that fact that films like Within Our Gates had to constantly battle with showing the truth of the South to the masses, but also still keeping the traditional black amusement forms. He calls this “sensational realism”. He then goes on the mention Micheaux’s life and Baldwin notes the significance of Oscar Micheaux's five silent and nine sound films in constructing a New Negro racial consciousness. He gives plenty of historical evidence and reviews from the time, which helps to put the films in a clear cultural perspective.

Green, Ronald J. "Oscar Micheaux's Interrogation of Caricature as Entertainment." Film Quarterly vol. 51 no. 3 pp: 16-31.

In this article by J. Ronald Green he first gives a brief overview of Micheaux’s upbringing and then his early films. He mentions Within our Gates, but does not talk about the film specifically. However, there are a lot of interesting points in the article, which can relate to understanding the portrayals of African-Americans in his early films. Green talks about how caricature was perceived by Micheaux as a prime obstacle for black advancement and its removal was an early rhetorical objective necessary to his goal. Blacks in the performing arts desperately needed to shed the caricature being used as a shelter. One of Micheaux's principal missions was to show that a black man could be anything he wanted. The ABAB structure is used repeatedly by Micheaux as a narrative form for his cinematic, class-based critique. Micheaux presented a simple configuration of shot and edit that implies the "cutting" of the B figure by the A figure. When the minstrel and vaudeville performers, or B figures, are introduced in the same shot with the chorus members, or A figures, the B figures are gazed upon by the A figures in a way that implies reprobation. A/upper-class, B/lower-class structure of the cutting gaze manifested in its purist form in “The Darktown Revue”. In “Murder in Harlem”, the ABAB paradigm is integrated into a more complex narrative, and the idea of the entertainment stereotype as inhabiting the class relations of daily life is elaborated. The author breaks down these two Micheaux's films that include music and performance as subjects.

 Micheaux interrogated entertainment as a function of class in a direct way that takes entertainment to be a literal, not just representational, sociopolitical condition inherent in the films. This tools helps to show another way that he is able to educate his audience about racism and the uplift of a people. Caricatures are just another form of blackface and other demeaning portrayals that Micheaux did not like. I also found Green’s ABAB structure very interesting overall because it brings a new dimension to Micheaux’s work.

Citation:

"'Casablanca' and United States Foreign Policy." Raskin, Richard. Film History. Vol. 4. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990. 2 vols. 153-164.

The following excerpt from a film history book by Rishard Raskin of the University of Indiana places Casablanca as a film in the grander scheme of historical context.  Raskin gives the valuable background of the war effort at the time and demonstrates the direct correlation with the historical events in French North Africa, Europe, and the plot and motifs of the film.  Raskin explains the significance of the Casablanca Conference and the exterior significance of the city as an important meeting place that changed the course of World War II.  Raskin demonstrates that the film had an impact on the decisions of Roosevelt and that the film was a classic example of using a romantic plotline to cast meaning over strong political undertones.  Raskin further discusses the political development of the region both before and after the film’s release and how it changed many of the policies of the region.  Ultimately, Raskin demonstrates how Casablanca was influenced by the political, economic, and wartime climate to create an influential World War II propaganda film.  Additionally, Rakin shows how Casablanca played an important role in the development of U.S. foreign policy and domestic attitudes towards both the small city and towards the United States involvement in the war as well.

Fleming’s 1939 American film The Wizard of Oz is an early pioneer of the use of innovative techniques in camera work, music, visual and special effects in modern day movie production.  The musical-fantasy classic has also become a firm favorite among the American public and coupled with its influence in the film industry, it should be regarded as the most significant American film of all time.

Today’s moviegoers revel in the thrill of highspeed car chases and high octane explosions. It is for this reason that engineers, designers and expert cameramen work continuously to bring us closer to the action. One new development by the Adventure Equipment group is the use of “a gyrostabilized, camera-mounted, remote-controlled crane system attached to an SUV” –  affectionately referred to as the Ultimate Arm. The pan/tilt/rotation capabilities of the camera coupled with the motor’s ability to reduce turbulence and wind resistance enable the camera crew to capture steady footage from a variety of angles during even the most intense chases. The audience is transported “directly into the flow of traffic.” Much has changed since the day Dorothy first rode a tornado into Munchkin City. In 1939, audiences were stunned by the sweeping camera movements as they followed Dorothy and company along the Yellow Brick Road. It is clear that today’s techniques are a bit more complex but with so much progress constantly being made over the years, we can only imagine what lies ahead in the world of filmmaking.

NASA Tech Briefs. "Motor Used to Stabilize Remote-Controlled Camera Crane." NASA Tech Briefs.
       (Aug. 2006). NASA Tech Briefs. Findarticles.com, 1 Dec. 2008. .

Fleming’s 1939 American film The Wizard of Oz is an early pioneer of the use of innovative techniques in camera work, music, visual and special effects in modern day movie production.  The musical-fantasy classic has also become a firm favorite among the American public and coupled with its influence in the film industry, it should be regarded as the most significant American film of all time.

Such is the high esteem in which Fleming’s 1939 classic The Wizard of Oz is held that curators have taken precautions to preserve this and other historically significant films from the deteriorating effects of age. Movies made before 1951 were recorded on nitrate film. Of course films are expected to fade and shrink as they get older, but nitrate paper adds an extra twist to the situation in that it is also extremely volatile. In fact, ignited nitrate paper produces its own oxygen – meaning that once ignited it is virtually impossible to extinguish the fire with water. History is rife with accounts of uncontrollable fires which have ravaged vast collections of movies recorded on nitrate paper. Exposure to heat, moisture or sharp fluctuations in temperature are also extremely damaging to these films. Thankfully though, proper steps are being taken to preserve these valuable pieces by storing them in specially designed frigid, low humidity vaults such as those in the Library of Congress and the George Eastman museum.

Dobbin, Ben. "Vaults protecting pre-1951 movies." Associated Press.(May 17, 2008).Associated Press. Findarticles.com, 1 Dec. 2008 .

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Fleming’s 1939 American film The Wizard of Oz is an early pioneer of the use of innovative techniques in camera work, music, visual and special effects in modern day movie production.  The musical-fantasy classic has also become a firm favorite among the American public and coupled with its influence in the film industry, it should be regarded as the most significant American film of all time.

Despite only modest box office success after its initial release in 1939, MGM’s The Wizard of Oz received many favorable reviews and was warmly embraced by the movie-going public. This positive response prompted London Films to produce The Thief of Baghdad one year later. The plot centered on the life of a young man who, with the help of circumstance and a djinni (genie), rises from being a lowly thief to being offered the position of Grand Vizier to the sultan. The film was a great success with “its colourful fantasy offering audiences a welcome escape from the grim daily reality of war, at a time when both colour film stock and genuine fantasy were a rarity in Britain.”

Duguid, Mark. "Thief of Bagdad, The (1940)." Screen Online Website. 1 Dec. 2008 .

Fleming’s 1939 American film The Wizard of Oz is an early pioneer of the use of innovative techniques in camera work, music, visual and special effects in modern day movie production.  The musical-fantasy classic has also become a firm favorite among the American public and coupled with its influence in the film industry, it should be regarded as the most significant American film of all time.

It appears that the classic American film The Wizard of Oz is not a direct adaption of the literary works of Oz creator L. Frank Baum. While it is true that audiences have fallen in love with Fleming’s interpretation of the literature, it is noteworthy that there have been numerous alterations. Entire scenes have either been changed or completely ignored and the film also rearranges selected elements from numerous Oz books in order to facilitate movie production. Nevertheless, there is no questioning the fact that Baum has left an indelible impression upon the entertainment world. From books to plays to films, cartoons and comics, it is easy to see that his creations have gradually infiltrated and strengthened the bloodstream of American culture.

Tysad Koupla, Nancy. "Critique on Before the Rainbow." Children's Literature Association Quarterly.
(30 April 2006). Muse.jhu.edu, 1 Dec. 2008.

Fleming’s 1939 American film The Wizard of Oz is an early pioneer of the use of innovative techniques in camera work, music, visual and special effects in modern day movie production.  The musical-fantasy classic has also become a firm favorite among the American public and coupled with its influence in the film industry, it should be regarded as the most significant American film of all time.

Such is the popularity of Baum’s The Wizard of Oz that some critics have suggested that it and other forms of popular culture have replaced biblical teaching and mythology’s position in society’s collective imagination. So thorough is the permeation of the Oz fantasy that a mere mention of any of the popular quotes from the movie will instantly evoke the full comprehension and application of said quote to the context in question. So complete is our exposure to the fantasy that even the act of thinking about certain related issues is reduced to mere reflex. Hastings posits that while the Bible was once the “source of our verbal and visual shorthand” any reference to Biblical characters or quotations in today’s world had best be accompanied by a footnote. Can a fictitious girl and her dog really replace usurp religion’s role in the western world? The issue is definitely up for debate. One thing is for certain though, “Toto, we're not in Kansas any more."

Hastings, A. Waller. "Worshiping at the Altar of Oz ." The Lion and the Unicorn.
(21 Feb. 1997). Muse.jhu.edu, 1 Dec. 2008.

Fleming’s 1939 American film The Wizard of Oz is an early pioneer of the use of innovative techniques in camera work, music, visual and special effects in modern day movie production.  The musical-fantasy classic has also become a firm favorite among the American public and coupled with its influence in the film industry, it should be regarded as the most significant American film of all time.

In his article Kansas, Oz and the Function of Art , Conlon describes Fleming’s 1939 classic The Wizard of Oz as an expression of art using the film medium. He proposes the idea that the land of Oz is itself the artistic interpretation of the reality of Kansas. While art is generally mimetic, Oz is not just a mere reflection of Kansas. Nor is Oz a conflict-free version of the real world. This much is clear as Dorothy faces arguably more dire perils in Oz than in Kansas. It is true that the characters in Oz resemble their Kansas counterparts in physique and psyche, however the relationships that Dorothy forges with the Tin Man, Lion and Scarecrow are more indicative of her desire to be treated as an equal rather than the meddlesome child she is depicted as while on the farm. Oz also empowers Dorothy with the ability to evoke change in the status quo, in Kansas her opinion is often ignored or dismissed. The article is truly a unique interpretation of the film and shows that this beloved fantasy has a lot more substance than we might realize at first glance.

Conlon, James. "Kansas, Oz and the Function of Art." Journal of Aesthetic Education Vol. 24, No. 3 (Autumn, 1990), pp. 99-106. University of Illinois Press. JSTOR, 1 Dec. 2008.

Fleming’s 1939 American film The Wizard of Oz is an early pioneer of the use of innovative techniques in camera work, music, visual and special effects in modern day movie production.  The musical-fantasy classic has also become a firm favorite among the American public and coupled with its influence in the film industry, it should be regarded as the most significant American film of all time.

How do you produce a film that appeals to people of all ages, becomes more cherished as time passes, will forever influence the American lifestyle and continues to inspire the world? In 1939 MGM spent an estimated $2.5 million to finance the production of The Wizard of Oz. The company clearly spared no expense in incorporating the talents of the industry’s best actors, film crew, technical experts and the most advanced technology of the day (Technicolor). A similar project in today’s economy would cost about $50 million. While initial box office numbers might not have rewarded their adventurous (and somewhat risky) approach, time has proven the project to be a resounding success. “The Wizard of Oz has witnessed more than 20 years of revival on both television and in theaters, remaining widely popular. Internationally, the film has enjoyed wider distribution than any other American film in history—fantasy, musical or otherwise.” How do you produce a film to change the world? MGM might have a “vague idea.”

Winning, Robert. "The Wizard of Oz." Film Reference Website. 1 Dec. 2008 .

        The article is a review of Dracula, also known as Bram Stoker's Dracula, a 1992 horror/romance film produced and directed by Francis Ford Coppola, by Roger Ebert. This film was based on the actual novel Dracula by Bram Stoker and stars Gary Oldman as Count Dracula. In his three-star review of the film Ebert talks about in depth both the plot and the quality of the film. Although it is mostly a positive review, Ebert reflects on the fact that Coppola “seems more concerned with spectacle and set-pieces than with storytelling.” He additionally states that at times the narrative is confusing and has many dead ends. Nevertheless, he says that he enjoyed the movie simply because the way it looked and felt. At the end of the article, he states that cinematographer Michael Ballhaus and Production designers Dante Ferreti and Thomas Sanders had "outdone themselves.'

        The origin of this film is precisely how Universal's Dracula, and many of its other horror films, came to be. For many of the films during the “Universal Horror” years, their inspiration came from gothic novels, legends and stage plays. Mystery plays, where individuals travel to a house only to be spooked and scared by a supernatural (or not) being is another commonly adapted type of media. The concept presented in these films usually evolve from one telling to the next, refining and reshaping the narrative to suit the needs of the culture it resides in. Films like the Bram Stoker's Dracula are supremely important as they help to reinvigorate old ideas and stories. This director used modern cinematic techniques and effects to excite the audience about an old story they believed they knew well. Just like Universal did with Dracula in 1931, Coppola changes his story slightly to appeal to his contemporary audience. This is a commonplace occurrence within the horror genre and it serves as a method to keep it fresh as time goes on.

       This article is actually extremely interesting as it talks about the effects of Universal’s Dracula in the narratives native country of origin, Romania. Although the film was created in 1931, it was not until the collapse of Soviet rule that the film finally made it way to the Transylvanian countryside. Apparently, after this discovery, much of the Romanian economy was transformed as tourist attractions based on the figure sprung up to capitalize (literally) on their country’s infamy. Hotels converted themselves into castle like bed and breakfasts, ordinary coffins became stage props for midnight performances, and ordinary roads became dark and scary paths for haunted hayrides. Additionally, besides a growth in tourism, the commercial exploitation of Dracula and Transylvania received an extra boost through the increase in academic tourism – several  international meetings of scholars specializing in the horror genres began to take place there as well.
    It’s an intriguing idea that a simple novel written Bram Stoker could inspire a film that later spawns a small scale cultural and economic revolution for a little, seemingly ordinary nation. This fact proves that Dracula’s influence reached far past the borders of our own nation and affected cultures around the world. A simple search on Google images with terms like “Dracula Japan” shows that the iconic imagery contained within the 1931 film is still found in popular culture even on the other side of the world. The Universal version of Dracula served as the basis for all future retellings in popular culture. Perhaps it was Bela Lugosi’s eerie voice acting or Jack Pierce’s masterful make-up work, whatever the reason, the 1931 account of Bram Stoker’s Dracula established itself as the most recognizable version of the tale to date and possibly forever.

Published in a 1990 volume of The Journal of Political Economy, Hugh Rockoff asserts that Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz “is a cautionary tale, recounting “the first battle” of 1896 (the title of Bryan’s [1896] immensely popular account of that election) and warning of the dangers that lay ahead” (745). Thus Rockoff ties the events in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz to the major issue of the 1896 Presidential campaign – the economy. Whereas William McKinley and the Republican party advocated the gold standard, William Jennings Bryan represented the Democratic and Populist factions in fighting for bimetallism and free silver. Agreeing with Henry Littlefield’s assessment about Baum’s political leanings, Rockoff sees Baum’s fairytale as a Populist interpretation of the 1890’s, though less deliberate in intention (756). Aside from disagreeing about the degree to which Baum intended for his story to be viewed as a political commentary, Rockoff agrees with all of Littlefield’s interpretations about the story as a Populist allegory. Rockoff’s article attempts to build upon the ideas presented by Littlefield to introduce the notion of Baum’s story as a monetary allegory as well.

Rockoff’s interpretation of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz provides sound reasoning for his view of the book as supportive of bimetallism. His interpretation of the cyclone that brings Dorothy to Oz at the beginning of the story is an apt metaphor for the Free Silver movement since times were especially hard in the plains states like Kansas in the 1890’s (745). It isn’t surprising that impoverished people would be “swept up” in a movement promising to inject more currency into the system. That she happens to fall upon a land called “Oz” isn’t lost on Rockoff either. He notes, “This is Baum’s fantasy counterpart to America, a land in which, especially in the East, the gold standard reigns supreme and in which and ounce (Oz) of gold has almost mystical significance” (745). Rockoff then mentions that Dorothy and her companions follow the yellow brick road (a metaphor for the gold standard) to the Emerald City to find the way home to Kansas, but in the end, all she had to do was click her silver shoes together three times. Rockoff explains, “the power to solve her problems (by adding silver to the money stock) was there all the time” (756). Though Rockoff’s reasoning is sound, I feel this sequence of events in the story work to support my thesis about The Wonderful Wizard of Oz as well. Though I am focusing on the film version for my project, I will use the book in this instance to compare fairly. While I agree with Rockoff that the cyclone could represent the free silver movement, it’s purpose in the story is different for each of us. Rockoff believes that it is designed to transport Dorothy (a representation of America) to a land where gold reigns so that she might find a compromise (bimetallism), which Rockoff argues that she does by clicking her silver shoes to take her back to Kansas (745). I believe, however, that the cyclone’s purpose is to remind Dorothy, and by extension Americans looking to Populism, that the free silver movement may seem enticing, but it will sweep them up, leave them in an unknown land away from everything they know, so the best course of action is to remain on the marked trail (the yellow brick road or the gold standard which was already in use) and they will be assisted in their journey home. After all, without the guidance of the Good Witch (or perhaps government officials with more knowledge than ordinary Americans) Dorothy would have never been instructed to click her heels in the first place.

In a unique review of The Wizard of Oz published on August 28, 1939 in The Los Angeles Times, art critic Arthur Milliers includes his family of five (plus one guest) in his critique of Victor Fleming's The Wizard of Oz. Because the book, and by most accounts the film, was made for younger viewers, it is brilliant that a review of the film should seek imput from children. Milliers, however, "admits that the idea of doing a family review of "The Wizard of Oz" came to him as he was wondering how to wrangle six passes for his numerous brood" (A14). Nevertheless, the opinions of his young companions, as well as his wife, all offer interesting insight into the varied audience reception of the film. Understandably, the younger children were more convinced that Oz was a real place. According to Mojave's (a 13 year old) description of the film, "it was all so oddly real that I felt I was living the story with Dorothy" (qtd. in Milliers, A14). The 15 year olds took a somewhat disinterested view of the film, with Arthur Jr. noting that the film "is a pleasant change from our standardized movie of today, not being an involved picture requiring mental effort to follow" (qtd. in Milliers, A14). I found the Mother's perspective on the film to be the most interesting, as her husband notes that she felt the movie was like "what childhood dreams used to be made of before 'Gang Busters' and 'oomph' became household words" (qtd. in Milliers, A14). The Mother's statement indicates that, for her, viewing The Wizard of Oz brought her back to happier times and provided a means of escapism.

While Milliers family review of The Wizard of Oz may seem like nothing more than the opinions of a few children and adults strewn together, to me, each of their reviews of the film have meaning. Although some patterns exist among similar age groups, each of the six individuals mentioned above has a distinct opinion of the film. This is important because it demonstrates the vast expanse of opinions about The Wizard of Oz that has yet to be uncovered. While a plethora of academic research exists linking Baum's book, and to some extent, Fleming's film, to Populism and bimetallism, Milliers review reminds us that these are not the only working theories about The Wizard of Oz currently circulating.

Milliers, Arthur. "Arthur Milliers View 'Oz' With Varied Reactions." Los Angeles Times. 28 Aug. 1939: A14. ProQuest. U. of. Penn. Lib., Philadelphia. 1 Dec. 2008 <http://proquest.umi.com>.

In an article appearing in an issue of Public Relations Quarterly, Tim Ziaukas posits "Baum's parable is a potent piece of Gilded Age propaganda, a masterpiece of early public relations writing, and part of the progressive surge that would result in the formal emergence of public relations in the generation after Oz" (3). He later concludes that The Wizard of Oz's foray into the field of Public Relations was lost in the transition from the Gilded Age to the 20th century, but he spends very little time developing either of his arguments. Instead, Ziaukas offers readers a short-sighted summary of the debate between the gold standard and bimetallism, L. Frank Baum's life, and the plot of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Despite the article's shortcomings, it is notable because it is one of the few articles I found exploring The Wizard of Oz from a different discipline -- in this case, Public Relations.

That the notion of The Wizard of Oz as a Populist or monetary allegory has spread to disciplines as far removed as Public Relations indicates an intense fascination with the idea among both ordinary Americans and academics alike. I do not believe that this is a problem. However, when academics make claims with very little or no evidence to back them up, I feel it is time to move on. Such is the case of The Wizard of Oz as a Populist or monetary allegory. While a strong case can be made for a vareity of scenarios relating to The Wizard of Oz and the notion of the yellow brick road representing the gold standard, for example, there just isn't enough evidence to support any of these claims.

Ziaukas, Tim. "Baum's Wizard of Oz as Gilded Age Public Relations." Public Relations Quarterly 43.3 (Fall, 1998): 7-11. EBSCO MegaFile. U. of Penn. Lib., Philadelphia. 1 Dec. 2008 <http://web.ebscohost.com>.

Whereas Ranjit S. Dighe’s book was notable for presenting the reader with the arguments both for and against The Wizard of Oz as a political or monetary allegory, Bradley A. Hansen’s The Fable of the Allegory: The Wizard of Oz in Economics takes a more one-sided approach. Unlike most Oz scholars, Hansen believes that “Baum’s writings, as well as his life history, provide considerable evidence that he did not have Populist sympathies and did not intend the book to be anything more than a delightful story” (255). To support these claims, he cites the fact that there “have not been multiple independent discoveries of the allegorical interpretation,” as all relate back to Littlefield or those who cited Littlefield (256). Next, Hansen cites editorials from Baum’s newspaper in South Dakota which indicate that he was a Republican. Finally, Hansen provides alternate interpretations of aspects of the book that are often used for monetary or political allegory by contemporary scholars.

Having been presented with Hansen’s arguments as to why The Wizard of Oz cannot function as a feasible political or monetary allegory, I have become more aware of the effect that the research of others can have on your own. Just as virtually every Oz scholar has read Littlefield’s article or has read an article by someone else who has read Littlefield, certain ideas or theories become accepted into the mainstream of academia, even when the evidence should suggest otherwise. These ideas are then assumed to be correct and are often treated as fact and are thus rarely challenged. Hansen questioned the reigning allegorical interpretations of colors in the book and brought up the point that if colors are a cornerstone of the allegorical interpretation of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, why are certain colors left unexplained? Until someone can provide a rational explanation as to why the Munchkins are blue, Glinda the Good Witch of the North is white, and the Wicked Witch of the West is green, it is difficult for me to assert that the yellow brick road is a symbol of the gold standard.

Hansen, Bradley A. "The Fable of the Allegory: The Wizard of Oz in Economics." The Journal of Economic Education 33.3 (Summer, 2002): 254-264. Heldref Publications. JSTOR. U. of Penn. Lib., Philadelphia. 1 Dec. 2008 <http://www.jstor.org>.

Marshall. L. "A Nazi Piece of Work," Herald Sun 06 May 1995. LexisNexis. 1 Dec 2008

     While Kolberg, has been criticized for being such an extravagant film that was filmed very late in the war and so close to Germany's defeat, there was another film that was being produced after Kolberg.  The production of this film went on almost until Germany’s defeat.  With shortages, bombings, and death only twenty miles away, Goebbels ordered the making of another extrazagant film, Das Leben geht weiter or Life Goes On. The set designer of this last film of the Nazi era, was instructed to “spare no expense to recreate the aftermath of the devastating Berlin air raids in November 1943”(Marshall).  This film was meant to be an updated version of Kolberg that just as extravagant.  The idea of the film was Goebbels', who definitely became obsessed with film.   This last film had mostly been forgotten in history.  This is in part because those involved were embarrassed they were part of the film , so they did not talk about the film.  The other reason is that the footage was completely lost.
    Most film historians view Kolberg as Goebbels' last production and biggest folly, but Das Leben geht weiter apparently takes its place.  This last film shows how illogical Goebbels was.  Germany did not have the resources to endure in World War II, but Goebbels felt that it had the resources to make a 2.5 million marks budget film.  Goebbels' priorities were very misguided.  He definitely should have had someone checking his power.  Goebbels wasted so many of Germany’s resources on useless film production.  Kolberg was barely viewed by audiences and Das Leben geht weiter was never finished and the footage was completely lost.  Even if these films had been viewed, they still would have been wasteful because the resources were needed so much more for the war effort.  Goebbels definitely overvalued film to the point where he was willing to sacrifice the war.  While this wasteful film production was not the cause of Germany’s loss, it definitely did nothing to help Germany endure with so many resources were being diverted away from the war.

Kracauer, Siegfried. From Caligari to Hitler, a psychological history of the German Film. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1947.

“Nazi Views And Measures”

    All films in Nazi Germany were propaganda films.  Newsreels and features were the two forms of propaganda.  Newsreels were a means of propaganda not information.  The purpose of newsreels was to give the German people skewed world views.  The production of newsreels greatly increased at the onset of WWII. While newsreels portrayed falsified messages, the scenes shown were never faked—they were always actual footage taken on site.  This element made these propaganda newsreels more believable.  The Nazis prided themselves on the fact that the cameramen for newsreels were like “regular soldiers, doing a soldier’s full duty, always in the first lines…” (Kracauer 276).  The deaths of these cameramen and reporters at the front lines were emphasized to the public to reiterate the fact that the reporters were, indeed, amongst the soldiers on the war front. These newsreels were considerably long, so that the propaganda techniques could be repeated for increased effectiveness.  While newsreels were long, unlike feature films, newsreels were produced rapidly so that the information was timely and viewed as actual news. 
    While in my thesis I use the broad term film, I only consider the term to describe feature films.  This chapter highlights the importance of the newsreel.  The newsreel is a form of film propaganda that I really should not have ignored.  Because of the newsreel’s entirely different nature, its inclusion would have given my thesis more depth.  The newsreel did not have the same production costs or length of time needed for production because all the footage is filmed live at the scene.  Considering these facts, newsreels as film propaganda were much more cost effective than feature films.  While newsreels directly told Germans what to believe, newsreels still were subtle forms of propaganda because they were being portrayed in documentary style as fact.  In my thesis I argued that film was overvalued by the Nazis at times because of its great cost when resources were needed badly for the war effort.  Newsreels, though, would have served as a good compromise. Still, though, when the situation with the war became very dire, resources should never have been diverted from the war effort.

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This review of various feminist film theory discusses the contradictions and similarities between five of the most well known feminist film theorists Tania Modleski, Teresa de Lauretis, Mary Ann Doane, and Christine Gledhill. Theories include discussions of the women's film as genre and a feminist view of subjectivity. One question raised in the review is the contradiction between how women appear in film and how they appear and operate in reality. This dichotomy is partially explained by the absence of women, on screen and during the process, and the resulting loss of identification with women on screen. The images of women in film becomes oppressive. Hitchcock manages to close the gap between women in reality and women in film by portraying them less like objects and more like subjects.

Any analysis of The Wizard of Oz as something other than a beautiful fairy tale for children must begin with a look at Henry M. Littlefield’s The Wizard of Oz: Parable on Populism. According to Ranjit S. Dighe, editor of The Historian’s Wizard of Oz, “Baum left behind no concrete evidence that he wrote the book as a political allegory, and, as far as we can tell, virtually nobody read it as one until more than sixty years later, when Henry Littlefield’s “The Wizard of Oz: Parable on Populism” was published in 1964” (x). Since then, a variety of additional allegories have been proposed, yet most still cite Littlefield’s work when tying Baum’s book to the Populist movement of the 1890’s. In his article, Littlefield’s overarching point is that in writing The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Baum was injecting a positive commentary on the Populist movement. Littlefield cites the scene in which the Scarecrow, Tin Woodman, Lion, and Dorothy ask the Wizard for help in fulfilling their needs for a brain, a heart, courage, and a way home, respectively. Littlefield points out that “their desires, as well as the Wizard’s cleverness in answering them, are all self-delusion. Each of these characters carries within him the solution to his own problem, were he only to view himself objectively,” suggesting that the populists were a self-sufficient and capable group (57).

Littlefield’s thesis of Baum writing The Wonderful Wizard of Oz as a work supporting the power of the common man, or the Populist movement, hinges on information about Baum’s political inclinations. As a result of this, his thesis is somewhat invalidated. In relating Baum’s background to The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Littlefield writes, “In Chicago Baum certainly saw the results of the frightful depression which had closed down upon the nation in 1893. Moreover, he took part in the pivotal election of 1896, marching in “torch-light parades for William Jennings Bryan””(49). Littlefield also quotes Martin Gardiner, noting that Baum “consistently voted as a democrat…and his sympathies seem always to have been on the side of the laboring classes” (qtd. in Littlefield, 49). While this information certainly supports Littlefield’s thesis, it was later disproved. According to Dighe, “Baum scholars have turned up virtually nothing in the way of confirmation that Baum was ever a Democrat or a Bryan supporter, while finding numerous bits of evidence that suggest he was a Republican or at least leaned Republican” (5). Though his theory about Baum’s political ideology is almost certainly false, Littlefield’s article is important to my thesis for that exact reason. By challenging the nature of Baum’s political leanings, one makes room for the idea of the yellow brick road as a symbol of the gold standard (a cornerstone of the Republican platform) as the path to prosperity.

Littlefield, Henry M. "The Wizard of Oz: Parable on Populism." American Quarterly 16.1 (Spring, 1964): 47-58. The Johns Hopkins University Press. JSTOR. U of Penn Lib., Philadelphia. 19 Nov. 2008 <http://www.jstor.org>.

The author, writing in 1945, offers a lengthy critique of why musical "re-creations" do not qualify as art.  The article begins by stating that the addition of images to "absolute" music qualifies as a form of corruption and that Disney is guilty of this crime in Fantasia.  The author goes on to list other offenses against canonical musical pieces: betraying the original intention of the composer, disrupting the continuity of the original piece, changing the original instrumentation (including changes to volume), and the introduction of expressiveness.  The author uses metaphors of paintings and other visual art forms in order to demonstrate the horrific effects of each of these sins against music.  The article closes with the statement that this practice of musical re-creation is merely a passing fad that will surely die out with the "current period of hyperindividualism."

This article is significant because it presents the common opinion of those in the music world that Fantasia is a heretical misuse of classical music, but it puts forth a more methodical reasoning behind this type of disapproval.  The highly structured argument is significant because it shows that there existed an organized explanation of why films like Fantasia should not be considered valuable pieces of art.  The author classifies this kind of impressionistic reworking of classical music as a passing trend, a fact that relates to my thesis by providing a direct temporal dimension to definitions of art.  It seems that this author refuses to accept Fantasia as art partly because it represents what the author sees as a current (at that time) practice.  The style of the film did not have the historical precedence behind it to be considered art.  This article is especially interesting in terms of comparisons to more recent analyses of the film because it marks as criminal the very thing that Disney is praised for by contemporary cultural critics: the re-editing of classical music pieces in order to make them accessible to a wider audience.  Whereas modern critics see this democratization of high art as a positive, artistic aspect of Fantasia, this author gives a methodical explanation of why this is a crime against music.

Balet, Leo. "The Nuisance of Music "Re-Creations"" The Kenyon Review summer 7 (1945): 382-98. JSTOR. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008 .

Copland, Aaron. "The Aims of Music for Film." New York Times 10 Mar. 1940: 158. ProQuest Historical Newspapers.
ProQuest. Van Pelt Library Philadelphia, PA. 2 Dec. 2008.

Copland introduces film music as an important part of film composition. He does not agree that “background music” losses its function when the viewer becomes aware of it, giving the example that watching a film before the musical score is added is nothing short of unbearable. The problem with music, however, is that audiences have not yet been informed on the subject. Copland believes that advertising a film as having the music of a famous composer could attract a huge audience of musical fans—2,000,000 concertgoers/year—just as directors and stars attract another audience to specific movies. This tactic might truly increase the number of people who attend films, as they would attract a more intellectual population than the traditional moviegoer. However, he explains that most films are worthy of their mundane music, but about 10% of Hollywood films, “the cream of the cinematic crop,” would profit greatly with better music. Copland asserts that the score is designed to strengthen and underline the emotional content of the entire picture supplying a sort of human warmth to the black-and-white, two-dimensional figures on the screen.

“Fantasia,” unfortunately, does not fall into Copland’s “cream of the cinematic crop.” Perhaps the film’s musical criticism originates from the Disney Company’s sense of entitlement regarding selected music. Unlike any other film at the time, producers of “Fantasia” took the liberty of using works from big-name composers of classical music while adding to them their own personal, random interpretations. Animators may be skilled in creating cartoons, but having no musical background or education, it comes as no surprise that some critics say “Fantasia” butchered the music it employed. Furthermore, Disney does not use the music to enhance the picture, but rather uses animation to enhance the music. This assumes that the music needs enhancing thus further insulting the world-renowned composers. “Fantasia,” though perhaps a good source of entertainment, ultimately shows Disney’s arrogance, despite its musical disability, through the artistically improper connections between image and music.

Geist, Kathe. "West Looks East: The Influence of Yasujiro Ozu on Wim Wenders and Peter Handke." Art Journal 43.3 (1983): 234-239.

Geist illustrates the influence of Ozu on European filmmakers Wim Wenders and Peter Handke. She first investigates the impact of traditional Japanese culture on Ozu’s films by defining Japanese terms exemplified in Ozu’s films: “mu” is void; “ma” is time-space continuum; “michiyuki” is movement from one place to another; “hashi” is the bridging of the void; “susabi” is the empty place where phenomena pass by; and “sabi” is the awareness of the ephemeral. Then, she shows the resemblance between the Wenders’ and Ozu’s films, such as sharing lack of interest of plot but instead for representation through non-narrative use of object. Finally, as opposed to being guided by Ozu like Wenders was, Handke, Geist argues, imitated Ozu’s style.

This article is extremely helpful in defining what exactly is Japanese through the various Japanese terms, and also how Ozu exemplifies these Japanese concepts in his films. The concept of mu, emptiness, is a positive element with which traditional Japanese artists compose and which Ozu utilizes extensively in Tokyo Story. For example, Ozu makes the shock of Tomi’s illness more profound than dramatic by stressing the emptiness and silence – whistling, phone dialing - when Koichi hears the news. Also, the many “empty” shots of landscapes and hallways and alleyways mentioned in Geist’s “Yasujiro Ozu: Notes on a Retrospective” here are interpreted as “containers” of emotion, giving the characters and viewers space and time for emotions to settle in, as well as hashi and michyuki, bridging the void.  Sabi is demonstrated by the emphasis on the characters living from moment to moment as opposed to plot, such as the need to show Noriko getting the phone call from her office. By pointing out various scenes in Ozu’s films that reflect the Japanese concepts, this article shows the how Japanese traditional culture help foment Ozu’s style, which then impacted other non-Japanese filmmakers.

Geist, Kathe. "Yasujiro Ozu: Notes on a Retrospective." Film Quarterly 37.1 (1983): 2-9.

Looking on a retrospective level, Geist compares prewar and postwar films from Ozu, giving insights to the director’s change after the war. She does so by discussing three main parts: the stylistic contrast between prewar and postwar films, the still-life shots, and Ozu’s attitude toward westernization. In Part I, she describes the transition of Ozu’s films from humorous, fluid comedies to quiet, static home dramas, from the extreme to the contemplative. In Part II, she explains Ozu’s use of still-life shots as meaningful or symbolic transitions. In Part III, she shows Ozu’s rejection to westernization after the war through his films.

This article provides helpful information specifically on the differences in Ozu’s prewar and postwar films, showing how Ozu became more “Japanese” in the postwar period. The articles quotes Japanese director Mansaku Itami, in 1940, “The first thing we learned from American movies was a fast-paced life style… Lastly, we learned to take an affirmative, purposeful, even combative attitude toward life… In any American movie I can hear someone crying out: Young man, be dauntless! Have more pride and backbone!” Ozu’s prewar films fitted such happy-go-lucky world, but his postwar took a drastic turn away from the American model of freedom and back to the conservative Japanese values and beliefs. In Tokyo Story, the resignation of the dialogue “life is a disappointment” contrasts sharply with the Itami’s quote. Aside from the patriotism and aversion to westernization, this article also talks about long “empty” shots filled with symbolic meaning. This can be applied to the hallway outside Noriko’s room and alleyway outside the bar in Tokyo Story to symbolize the passage of human life from one stage to the next, giving another example of Ozu’s unique style unfamiliar to westerners.

Richie, Donald. "Yasujiro Ozu: The Syntax of His Films." Film Quarterly 17.2 (1963-1964): 11-16.

Richie deciphers Ozu’s film language into grammar, structure, editing, tempo, and scene. For grammar, he argues that Ozu forgoes plot and content, hence restricting technique as well, in favor for character revelation. He also correlates punctuation with Ozu’s use of three simple cuts: long shot, middle shot, and close-up. For structure, Richie shows how Ozu’s films always “returns” that is end where it began, and how every single shot is indispensable to the entire film. Ozu’s editing centers on the revelation of character, such that he does not cut from dialogue or action but waits for his characters, and his tempo based on the characters’ psychological time. In scene, Richie shows how Ozu uses subtle still-life to convey feelings. Richie concludes that by using this language, or syntax, Ozu found the best “container” to present true human character.

By decoding Ozu’s film language, this article helps to better understand Ozu’s personal film style, and how it is “Japanese.” For example, Ozu places the camera on the position of where a person would kneel upon tatami, since this is the traditional and formal seating position. In Tokyo Story, psychological time is preferred over chronological time as evident in the scene where the scene shifts from inside Noriko’s room to the corridor and back when the clock stuck midnight. Chronological time here is employed only for use to portray the effect on Noriko and Tomi inside the room. A neighbor comes appears in the beginning and ending of Tokyo Story, illustrating the state of “return” and emphasizing Tomi’s absence in the ending. These are just a few examples of Ozu’s unique style in Tokyo Story, his style that is restrictive the characters as opposed to the other directors taking advantage of their characters to push the plot forward. In the end of this article, Richie calls Ozu “the most Japanese of all Japanese directors” because he resembles sumi-e ink drawing masters and haiku poets, using a formal and restrictive context to bring out emotions.

Richie, Donald. "The Later Films of Yasujiro Ozu." Film Quarterly 13.1 (1959): 18-25.

Richie in this article focuses on the postwar films from Ozu, those about family, and argues that these are the “real Japanese flavor.” The article begins with brief background information from “The Japanese Cinema” and “Yasujiro Ozu: The Syntax of His Films,” both by Richie. He then describes elements typical of Ozu’s later films. Unlike the previous articles, this one includes quote of Ozu himself, and delves more deeply not into Ozu’s style but instead his attitude toward films, one that is perfectionist.

The first half of this article gives basically the same insights as “The Japanese Cinema” and “Yasujiro Ozu: The Syntax of His Films,” the quality of restraint in simplicity and return to traditional virtues of Japan after exploration from the western. The second half gives additional information and more direct link to the Japanese-ness of his films. For one, his films are like slices of life, natural as if taking directly from real –life, showing Japan as it was. Furthermore, in Tokyo Story the last person we see is Shukishi, the father; this emphasis on the father reflects the patriarchal Japanese society. Richie also discusses “mono no aware,” or sympathetic sadness, an attribute of the Buddhist who looks at the world from a distance, uninvolved, associated with the resigned sadness at the end of Tokyo Story. The quotes in this article will prove handy, such as Imamura’s critique in the recollection rather than reconstruction of phenomenon, an intuitive over analytical approach that is deemed Japanese by the “shishosettsu” literary form.

This article, appearing in a 1941 issue of The Musical Times, is a review of the original release of Fantasia.  The author presents a somewhat biting critique of the film for failing to meet the standards put forth by the classical music pieces it features.  The main criticism voiced here is that the film's visual "Disney style" is so overbearing that the character of the music is overshadowed.  While  the author acknowledges the creative and effective pairing of visuals with music in a few of the film's sequences, the article maintains that Fantasia still does not constitute an innovative work of art.  The author argues that the film is merely a second-rate extension of the "Silly Syphonies" series of animated shorts.  The article closes with the repitition of its orginial criticism: Fantasia takes on too much in terms of the music at the heart of its presentation.

This article represents the prototypical response from the music community at the time of Fantasia's orginal release.  This critic conveys ambivalence at best, describing some redeeming qualities of the film but still condeming it as a failure in both the beginning and end of the article.  This relates to my thesis in that it provides an example of negative criticism at the time of the film's release.  The author is not able to view the film through a historical lens, so the only perspectives offered are those that relate to the aesthetics and intertextuality of the film.  In this case the reviewer is predominantly concerned with the face value of how Fantasia treats classical music, and in his eyes it fails to meet its potential in this respect.

McN. "Disney's 'Fantasia'" The Musical Times sep. 82 (1941): 349-49. JSTOR. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 29 Nov. 2008 <http://http://www.jstor.org/stable/922891?&search=yes&term=fantasia&term=disney&list=hide&searchuri=%2faction%2fdoadvancedsearch%3fq0%3dfantasia;f0%3dall;c0%3dand;q1%3ddisney;f1%3dall;c1%3dand;q2%3d;f2%3dall;c2%3dand;q3%3d;f3%3dall;wc%3don;search%3dsearch>.

Richie, Donald. "The Japanese Cinema." Members Newsletter 8 (1970): 5-8.

In this article, Richie provides background information on the history of the Japanese cinema. He starts off with the entry of movies from the West, then several characteristics of Japanese life such as preoccupation with the past and shomin-geki. The article continues chronologically with Japan’s past, emphasizing westernization and the war. Richie also shows the attributes to Japanese cinema changed over time and how old and new directors responded to the changes.
This article provides a decent amount of background information on Japanese cinema from its beginning Ozu’s end of career, and it is helpful to bring the thesis into a greater context, placing it with the history of Japanese cinema as well as other Japanese works.

This will undoubtedly generate more insight than just examining Ozu’s film style. For instance, Tokyo Story is a shomin-geki film, about Japanese middle class life. This article points out that such films were already popular before Ozu’s postwar career. Also, the westernization of Japan as described gives interesting information about Ozu. Japan was inundated with American ideas and technology, and while Japanese became less conservative traditional directors such as Ozu resorted back to the traditional Japanese lives. Despite the American value on the individual, he still filmed social units, especially the family. Furthermore, Japan stands apart from American and European films due to its riches in mood and atmosphere, which is accomplished largely by characters and their surroundings. The films showed Japan as it was, and were targeted to its domestic audience in a sense that these films are truly Japanese.

Richie, Donald. Introduction. Ozu. By Richie. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974. 1-17.

The introduction to Ozu by Richie focuses on viewing Ozu’s films as a whole. The article describes extensively how all his films had one major subject, family, and one major theme, dissolution. Richie also delineates the patterns and similarities in Ozu’s films, centering on home drama, but he also makes the distinction that although the roles are similar, the characters are not. The article also comments on Ozu’s self-imposed limitation, and how the stories reduced to pretext to show Japanese life as it was.

This article, like “The Japanese Cinema,” brings Ozu’s style into a bigger context than just Tokyo Story. In fact, it is grouped as a collection of films about, essentially, the same issue: family dissolution. This article also provides interesting information on the differences between American and Japanese lifestyles and viewpoints, hence pronouncing Japanese culture in Ozu’s films even more. For example, family dissolution, the central theme of Ozu’s films, is considered a catastrophe in Japan but a proof of maturity in America. The difference in value of family between the two cultures illustrates how it is nearly impossible for American to achieve the cinematic effect Ozu did so many times in his various films.

McDonald, Keiko. "Ozu's Tokyo Story: Simple Means for Complex Ends." The Journal of the Association of Teachers of Japanese 17.1 (1982): 19-39.

McDonald details how Ozu creates a complex meaning from simple story, theme, and cinematography, specifically in the film Tokyo Story. She asserts the straightforwardness of the film, as well as the relationship among the family members being revealed in everyday events. She describes Ozu’s use of stylistic elements - slow tempo, “on the level” camera, long shots, medium shots, close-ups, and scenery reminiscent of Japanese brush paintings – to produce a rich effect. She then provides a thorough run-through of Tokyo Story, explaining the subtleties, such as in dialogue, gestures, or landscape, and how the character dynamics complement to illustrate the dissolution in the family, producing a whole, coherent film.

By providing a close examination of Tokyo Story, this article gives substantial information about Tokyo Story the film itself, scenes and cinematography and subtleties that might not have been noticed consciously by viewers. Also, the article stresses the simplicity of Ozu’s style, and it even goes as far as stating that Ozu’s mastery of such apparent simplicity makes him “the most Japanese of all directors.” Drawing parallels to the famous garden of Ryoanji Temple, the simple arrangement elicits complex responses from viewers, and it is through such Ozu’s ability to make the viewers feel Shukichi’s solitude in the end, as demonstrated in this article, that marks him as the director who can deliver powerful themes through everyday events of Japanese middle class family (“shomin-geki”).

Citation:

Polan, Dana. "Stylistic Regularities (and Peculiarities) of the Hollywood World War II

Propoganda Film." Warner’s War: Politics, Pop Culture & Propaganda in Wartime Hollywood 38-47.

In the book entitled Warner’s War: Politics, Pop Culture & Propaganda in Wartime Hollywood, Dana Polan discusses the influence the Warner Bros. studio had during the wartime and how it’s films and cartoons influenced public opinion and war sentiment during the time.  In this portion of the book, Polan demonstrates the particular influence and propagandistic influence of Casablanca and how this film changed the typical style of Hollywood in order to incorporate the propaganda of wartime.  Polan discuss the romantic overtone of the film and how this theme keeps in line with the traditional film style of Hollywood at that time.  However, she goes further to demonstrate how this romance accentuates the strong division between the two different conflicting powers in the film.  This chapter serves as an important connection between propaganda and the film in that is demonstrates how the simple romantic theme is enhanced to create a protagonist hero with whom the audience can closely relate and sympathize for.  She portrays how this sentiment can be perverted to support his goals of suppressing the fascist powers.  Ultimately, Polan demonstrates how the romance theme closely ties into the film’s wartime significance as a part of World War II propaganda.

Luckett explores the cultural discourse surrounding Fantasia at the time of its release, finding mixed reviews of the animated feature film.  Positive reception focused on the film's master animation techniques and somewhat abstract narrative structure, while negative criticism came mainly from representatives of the music world who saw classical music and film as incompatible - the former being art and the latter being a "distraction."  The author also analyzes the marketing and distribution strategies that made Fantasia a spectacle.  Disney positioned the film as a "prestige picture" by releasing it as a roadshow, traveling around the country visiting large theaters in major cities.  This strategy of infrequent screenings served popular as well as technical purposes, creating suspense/"buzz" but also allowing time for theaters to install the necessary equipment for the film's multi-channel audio "Fantasound" technology.  However, this distribution method also kept the film from earning enough revenue to make up for its enormous budget.  As a reslt, the film went on to be re-released many times over the next several decades.  Luckett examines the conditions around these re-releases as well as their individual receptions, finding a "double connotation" in the contemporary United States.  Some products (e.g. home video copies of the film) signal the film as a children's/family amusement, while other products (e.g. the Collector's Edition tapes, classical music soundtrack, lithograph) associate the film with art.  The author concludes that contemporary (1990-91) marketing strategies for Fantasia re-releases mirror those for its original release: both focus on the rarity of the chance to see the film.

This article is important because it represents a kind of meta-analysis of the releases and receptions of Fantasia over time.  The author acknowledges the hostility the film originally received from the musical community and argues that Fantasia has consistently been marketed as a rare event.  My thesis uses similar information as explored in this article and expands on the author's conclusion by also taking into account how temporal distance from the original film affects its interpretation as art versus mass commercial commodity.  While Luckett does mention the "double connotation" of the film in recent years regarding its relationship to art, this aspect of the article is mainly focused on the marketing techniques involved to produce such an effect.  In this way the author's explanation here provides a more complete picture of how Fantasia has come to be viewed as art over the years.

Luckett, Moya. "Fantasia: Cultural Constructions of Disney's 'Masterpiece'" Disney Discourse: Producing the Magic Kingdom. Ed. Eric Smoodin. New York, NY: Routledge, 1994. 214-36. Google Books. 22 Nov. 2008 <http://http://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=wpxzl1lcr30c&oi=fnd&pg=pr9&dq=fantasia+disney&ots=fdmktnkohv&sig=hx9e44_3n-ovwcn1ikbssvzu1vy#ppr6,m1>.

Citation: Cocks, Geoffery. “The Ministry of Amusements: Film, Commerce, and Politics in Germany, 1917-1945.” Central European History 30.1 (1997): 77-89.

In Cock’s review of The Ministry of Illusion: Nazi Cinema and Its Afterlife, written by Eric Rentschler, he focuses on examining the fundamental arguments made by Rentschler in regards to propaganda film produced by the Third Reich. First, he explains Rentchler’s idea that Nazi made a strong attempt at mass deception through film production. Additionally, Cock discusses Rentschler’s belief that the Third Reich used entertainment as a substitute for “glimpses of everyday life,” that Nazi film could be linked to traditional Hollywood conventions, and introduces Rentschler’s suggestion that the Nazis sought to use film as a way of seducing and coercing the German people. Finally, Cooks notes that it is important to understand the fact that, in his book, Rentschler emphasizes the concept of film as a powerful means of expressing and evoking emotion.

Although this article does not address Wunschkonzert, the arguments presented as to what defines a Nazi Propaganda film can be applied to this production and demonstrate to a greater extent that this film was used as war propaganda. First, Rentchler’s idea of mass deception is evident in the portrayal of Germany as a peace-minded country. The film aimed at portraying Germany as a place in which the home-front should be a place of optimism and unity. In addition, the suggestion of seducing and coercing by the Nazis is evident in the way in which the film instills within the audience the idea that war, joy, romance and love can be intertwined and, thus, one should feel hope and pride in this time of warfare. Through the use of entertain, Wunschkonzert sought to associate positive sentiments and thoughts with then concept of war in the minds of audiences. Finally, the film does indeed evoke emotion within the German people. Wunschkonzert evokes positive feelings in support of Hitler’s struggle for triumph and power.

Citation: Blair, John. "Nazi Cinema as Enchantment: The Politics of Entertainment in the Third Reich." German Quarterly. 78.2 (Spring 2005): pp. 258-259.

In this book review, Blair discusses the way in which O’Brien expresses the Nazi administration’s obligation to cinema as both entertainment and propaganda. O’Brien emphasizes how Nazi Film followed a similar model to that of classical Hollywood cinema through its promotion of identification. In addition, the book review explains that O’Brien presents the fact that “only 153 of the 1,094 feature films produced in Germany during the Third Reich are "generally considered outright propaganda;" (1) thus, the rest of the propaganda film depicted political agenda in a variety of different genres. Through the close scrutiny of thirteen Nazi films, from five different film dramas, O’Brien determines the impact of each genre on German society and the way in which each particular genre excels. When observing films created during wartime, O’Brien ventures to suggest that the state tried to promote different attitudes in correspondence with different periods of the war. In chapter three, O’Brien focuses on Wunschkonzert and its impact on German society. She explains that the film is full of confidence and optimism about the war and life back at home in addition to suggesting the idea of sacrifice and support of the war efforts on the home front.

The article is significant in understanding that Goebbels and the Nazi regime undeniably strove to provide audiences with a source of entertainment during a difficult time in Germany. However, it can not be overlooked that despite the fact that these films, including Wunschkonzert, centered on a story of love and light heartedness, the film proved to audiences that support o f the Nazis and the idea of warfare was crucial in obtaining success and maintaining the morale of Germany in this period and struggle and hardship.

Citation: Von Papen, Manuel. “Keeping the Home Fires Burning? Women and the German Homefront Film 1940-1943.” Film History. Vol. 8.1 (Spring, 1996): pp. 44-63

Within this article, Von Papen attempts to depict what constitutes a home front film as well as their impact on Gemran society. He explains that the Home front film can be described as an entertainment film. Typically, the home front film is a love story, comedy, or entertainment film that serves as a reminder of everyday life. The author goes on to describe, in detail, the components of film that would constitute it as a home-front film. First, Von Papen explains that the plot must contain a love story between a man off at war and a woman back at home, holding down the fort. Next, he explains that the woman must be employed in occupations such as a conductress, auxiliary nurse, or actress, and emphasizes the fact that, in home front film, women are always looking for a man. He further describes the crucial components of home front films by focusing on the fact that women in the films typically go through a learning process during wartime in which they come to recognize that their own private happiness may have to be put on hold for the greater good of their man and country. Additionally, the author reiterates that idea that, in home front film, lthere is little mention of the hardship of the war; rather, there is a positive mentality that is maintained throughout the films. Finally, it is noted that these films embody romances which stand the test of time and separation and end up with the lovers finding each other again after some time.

    In his observation of Wunschkonzert, the author focuses on the fact that the film depicts war in a very light manner. For example, he includes the fact that soldiers within the film are always seen enjoying a musical performance or even their own engagement party, or seen writing letters to loved ones back home. In addition, the author emphasizes that only one death occurs in the film and the death is seen as positive due to the fact that the character suffered death in the name of his country.

    This article helps us to fully gain knowledge on the aspects of the film that categorize Wunschkonzert as a home-front film. Indeed, the romance between Inge and Herbert fall under the criteria stated above and Inge plays the role of a faithful lover who is willing to stand the test of time and support the war efforts in the name and honor of her fighting lover. In addition, the author’s description of the lighthearted approach to war in the film proves to an even greater extent the way in which this film uses the notion of entertainment to show audiences that war does not have to be seen as aggression or violent fight against an enemy; instead, the film aims at demonstarting the importance of staying optimistic, loyal, and proud of not only their fighting loved ones but also Germany as a whole.

Citation: Zimmerman, Clemens. “From Propaganda to Modernization: Media Policy and Media Audiences under National Socialiam.” German History 24.3 (Aug 2006): 431-454.

    In the section entitled, “ ‘Propaganda’ as the Key Concept of Earlier Media-Oriented Analyses of the National Socialist System,” Zimmerman takes a close look at propaganda and its impact on National Socialism. First, Zimmerman emphasizes the fact that the real study of propaganda lies in an examination of subliminal messages that are being displayed. He goes on to conclude that it is not only the content of the message that is important but also the function that the media performs within the communication of society. Zimmerman presents an opposing view to many of the other sources included which is based on the idea that entertainment films were predominantly meant for entertainment and only marginally produced to present propaganda. However, although Zimmerman states that an audience interprets media differently in regards to their gender, educational background, sex, age, and previous life-experience, the author does suggest the fact that media mass communication can influence people’s emotion, that people tend to agree with majority opinion, and that the media can set agendas on topics in which uncertainty exists.

    Despite the fact that this article presents some facts in opposition of the thesis stated above, the facts presented in support of propaganda in entertainment film can be supported through an analysis of German society during the Nazi regime. The fact that the Nazi hierarchy had power over much of the culture and activity in Germany did not leave much freedom for citizens to develop their own thoughts and beliefs or to express them openly. Therefore, film production and the messages being relayed by these works of art and entertianment played a large role in the formation of society’s opinion on a variety of different topics, including politics and war. It is undeniable that films such as Wunschkonzert served as an escape and form of amusement for the German population; however, one mustn’t fail to recognize the conditions of the society at the particular time and the heavy influence that the Nazi regime had over society and their overall beliefs on important issues.

This journal article deals mainly with the series of films entitled Shakespeare: The Animated Tales, and aims to address the cliche that when portions of the plays are removed in order to make the films, the works are simplified or "dumbed down" to the point where the quality is almost completely sacrificed. It suggests that a better way to analyze the films is to examine them as films, and not as literature, and therefore acknowledge the omissions but still treat the work as a whole. In addition, this reading sees these cuts as necessary to enhance the cinematographic needs of the medium, and the choice of animation brings these valuable and culturally significant stories to a new generation.

The article goes on to cite Walter Benjamin and Sergei Eisenstein's early writings that see animation as significant and important, and claim that it serves as the experimentation necessary for the progress of cinema as a whole. A primary example of Disney's experimentation with anti-realism, according to the article, is the "Silly Symphonies" series of short animated films. The author sees experimentation in various aspects of the film, including "self-reflexivity, technical innovativeness, violation of natural spatial-temporal rules, and violence," and cites other writings which claim that part of the influence of the films lay in their ambiguous target audiences. The films were "not just children's stuff, and certainly not sugar-sweet. Whether they were for adults or children was indeterminate." It was the animated feature Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs that ended this era of experimentation for Disney, and proved that cartoons could be respectable, even "antiseptic." While Warner Brothers continued to be edgy, Disney was now mainstream and accepted by the Production Code.

This article helps me prove the foundation of my thesis, that the Silly Symphonies began as experimental works that allowed Disney and its animators to try new technologies and new forms. It also helps me show that this experimentation led directly to the development of elements, like narrative, character differentiation, and others, whose perfection made the production of an animated feature-length film possible.

Citation:

Dirk, Timothy. "Casablanca (1942)." FilmSite. 1 December 2008 <http://www.filmsite.org/casa.html>.

In this review of the film, Tim Dirk goes beyond simple analysis of the plot and the film’s intrigue as one of the greatest films of all time in order to demonstrate some of the underlying messages that are conveyed by the film’s editing techniques, lighting, scenes, and character development.  Dirk begins by describing how the film’s use of lighting in the introductory map to convey a protagonist conflict between the lightly colored Allied countries on the map and the dark Axis countries.  This subliminal coloring of the two differing forces, generates a political tone to the film in which the Axis powered are conveyed as the antagonist.  Such sentiment only becomes enhanced as the film progresses.  Dirk then describes the introductory scene in which Casablanca is displayed as a chaotic and disorderly city full of crime and corruption.  This enhances the antifascist undertones in that it remarks poorly on the Nazi “control” of the neutral city.  Dirk also points out several ironic montages such as the French slogan “Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité” which had not been replaced by the Vichy power, and the imprisonment of citizens in “Le Palais de Justice”.  Dirk then moves to other images that are portrayed throughout the city which further augment the propagandistic and antifascist undertones of the film.  He then moves to analyze the dialog throughout the movie and point out the subtle tones and words in the script which convey a strong connection with the Resistance Movement and a rejection of the fascist ideology.  In all, this review offers a close analysis of the film’s techniques of filming, set, script, and imagery in order to demonstrate its political influence and use as propaganda.

Citation: Stephen, Vaughn. "Morality and Entertainment: The Origins of the Motion Picture Production Code." The Journal of American History 77 (1990): 39-65.

This article explains why the MPPC was adopted. It illustrates the illicit behaviors of those in Hollywood and why the heads in Tinsil Town felt the need to put their feet down on free expresssion in film. Actors such as Fatty Arbuckle were involved in controversies that were thought to have a significant impact on movie audiences. This morally reprehensible behavior potrayed both on and off screen supposedly caused the corruption of Americans. Therefore, William Hayes decided that there needed to be regulation of Hollywood to prevent any further contamination of yourh in America.

The introduction of the Hays Code directly affected the production of The Outlaw. Howard Hughes fought throughout the production of this film to keep certain scenes that were deemed inappropriate by the production code. In particular scene in question was where Jane Russell wears a dress that reveals too much of her bustline. Per the code, this scene needed to be cut out if the movie was to receive the seal of approval from the MPAA. However, Hughes fought to keep the scene in the movie and eventually came to an agreement about how much of Jane Russell's breast would be shown.

Citation: Giesen, Rolf. Nazi Propaganda Films: a history and filmography. Jefferson: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2003. 151-162

The chapter entitled “Black-Out: The Home Front, or “That’s Not the End of the World,” describes movies during the Nazi film period which focused on the environment back at home during wartime in Germany. Throughout the chapter, the author depicts the role of women during this period by showing that the typical bride or fiancé in many films would be waiting for their brave, faithful soldier to return victoriously. Within the chapter, Giesen discusses Wunschkonzert as an example of a home front film. He explains the way in which movies such as these strived to keep German spirits high through a focus on music and an upbeat screenplay that depicts war in a positive light. It is also important to recognize that Wunschkonzert can be used to better understand the role of women at the time. Through the character of Inge Wagner, we witness the way in which women in German society reacted to war. Despite being separated for three years, Inge waits for Herbert and remains devoted to him until they are reunited in a hospital.

Through Giesen’s depiction of Wunschkonzert, we gain a greater understand of the way in which entertainment film was used by the Nazi regime to unite German society and keep spirits high in the time of war. Indeed, through the character of Inge Wagner, women throughout Germany were given an example of what it means to be in support of soldiers and their country in a time of fighting, yet another way in which the Nazi regime gained support through entertainment film.

Citation:

Crowther, Bosley. "'Casablanca' With Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman." New York Times 27 November 1942.

This is the original film review from the New York Times written on November 27, 1942 after the film’s release.  This review, unlike the myriad of reviews on the films, gives the unique perspective of an erudite audience of that specific time period.  The reviewer not only heralds the film as one of the greatest of all times, but remarks about its unique story and subtle tendencies.  He demonstrates how Warner uses the action-packed thrill of the setting to enhance the romantic overtone to the film.  Most importantly, the author describes how the film contained a strong political message.  He writes that the film “inject[ed] a cold point of tough resistance to evil forces afoot in Europe today”.  With this statement, it is apparent that the film was viewed as a propagandistic tool of the war effort.  Its antifascist undertone and subliminal support for aiding the European cause against the Nazis is clearly demonstrated and understood at the time.  This further shows how the film was viewed not only as a great romantic drama film, but also a powerful piece of propaganda that influenced its audiences.

Citation :

Leon, Charls L. Ponce de. "Progressive Politics and American Dreams." Review in American History September 2008: 348.

Charles L. Ponce de Leon provides a critical analysis of Lary May’s book, The Big Tomorrow: Hollywood and the Politics of the American Way.  Leon begins by giving a background into film history and how cinema developed in a political manner.  He demonstrates how it became politically powerful and how it can be interpreted in revisionist studies through cultural anthropology, sociology, literary criticism, and social history.  It is with these methods that Leon further critiques the work of May’s book and demonstrates the true power of cinema.  Leon demonstrates how cinema’s production can be used to “peddle products that are subversive” and create a specified appeal for audiences.  In this manner, he claims that producers are able to use film techniques to create an exact interpretation which can vary little amongst audiences in the grand scheme.  Leon also states that cinema uses political implications to challenge the authority of the elites.  Such is seen in the production of Casablanca.  Leon then progresses his critical analysis towards films of the 1940’s and how they were heavily influenced not only by the lingering effects of the New Deal and the Great Depression, as can be seen by the dramatic mise-en-scene of the city of Casablanca in the film.  He also demonstrates how “progressive moviemakers eagerly contributed their talents to government service and a host of pro-war, antifascist films”. Leon then moves to analysis of the cultural, social, and political implications of the film Casablanca specifically.  He contends that the films played an important political role to the antifascist movement and demonstrated a strong propagandistic desire to aid the resistance movement.  However, he also notes that Rick’s “loss of independence” later hurt the film’s political undertones and created an opposite sentiment later on in the sixties.  In all, Leon critiques May’s book which discusses the political and social effects of early cinema and discusses the value they have towards audiences.  With this, he lends support to Casablanca’s social significance as a film of antifascism and pro-war significance.

Citation:

Sexton, Timothy. "Casablanca and the Use of Mise-en-Scene in the Construction of Propaganda." 2008 29 January. AssociatedContent. 1 December 2008 http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/558967/casablanca_and_the_use_of_miseenscene.html?page=3&cat=37.

In this article, Gates compares the three film versions of Hammett’s novel, The Maltese Falcon. The main focus is more on the first two film adaptations (Dangerous Female and Satan Met a Lady) than Huston’s. At first, the article discusses how faithful each film was to the original novel in its writing. The article then moves on to focus more on the portrayal of the hero and how it changed over the course of the three films, shifting from the soft-boiled detective of the Depression to the hard-boiled one of pre-WW2. It also, at more length, discusses how the first film depicted the hero as much more of a sex symbol than the later films, especially the original adaptation. Next, the article discusses the films four villains, and how they’re perceived “sexual perversion” in all versions of the film, but especially in the last two. Also included is that the perception and representation of each character changed after the first adaptation. The final two portions of the article lament the absence of the depressing circularity of Hammett’s novel.

The main idea that we can take from this article is the shift of the hero figure in this period leading up to the Second World War and the dawning of film noirs in Hollywood. Being able to analyze three movies with similar, if not exactly the same, storylines allows us to see how things changed in that 10 year period between 1931 and 1941. Gates tells us that while the original depiction of Sam Spade was as a sexy, ladies’ man, the depiction of the Spade in the 1941 version was the one that would become the most popular by far. Many film noirs were detective stories, featuring a so called hard-boiled hero who was a tough guy, a definition of masculinity, who no longer had the optimism of the Depression-era detectives, instead having a bleak, realist worldview.

Gates, Philippa. "The Three Sam Spades: The Shifting Model of American Masculinity in the Three Films of The Maltese Falcon." Framework: The Journal of Cinema and Media 49.1 (2008): 7-26. Project Muse. 24 Nov 2008 http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/framework_the_journal_of_cinema_and_media/v049/49.1.gates.html#back

The article details the life of Humphrey Bogart, the actor who portrayed the hero Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon. He was born into an upper middle class family and spent time in the Navy before acting. He moved from the stage into minor Hollywood villain roles, a tough guy. His big breaks came in 1941 with Casablanca and The Maltese Falcon for Warner Brothers. Two years later, he met Lauren Bacall, who would become his third and most stable wife. Despite their strong personalities, the two meshed well and became a good couple. Bogart tried to contain his volatile personality in his later films, with some success, starring in such movies as the drama In a Lonely Place and the comedy Sabrina. He died of emphysema in 1957.

The important thing to grasp from this is to notice the rise of Humphrey Bogart as a Hollywood star at the same time as the rise of the film noir genre. While it would be a little extreme to suggest that Humphrey Bogart singlehandedly was responsible for popularizing the tough, hard boiled hero, it would be hard not to say he had some part in it. Firstly, the wild success of Casablanca and The Maltese Falcon, and to a lesser degree High Sierra, propelled Bogart into stardom and the public’s eye. The fact that he did this without compromising the tough guy image he’d fostered no doubt influenced the public’s craving for similar type characters. Also, one should note that while Casablanca may the more revered, The Maltese Falcon may be the more influential, for the type of character Bogart played in The Maltese Falcon was the one who changed an entire genre and style. Bogart didn’t invent the tough guy hero. He simply made it mainstream, and, in essence, made, what would become the film noirs, economically feasible.

Christina Lane " Humphrey Bogart". St. James Encyclopedia of Pop Culture. . FindArticles.com. 01 Dec. 2008. http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_g1epc/is_bio/ai_2419200117

This article by Rashna Wadia provides an antistructuralist criticism and analysis of The Maltese Falcon. She proceeds to use each letter of the alphabet to stand for a word or phrase and use it to provide analysis of the film. In her analysis, she not only discusses the aspects of the film itself, but the themes of its objects, nuances of its production, and even some topics that border upon minutia. As with any antistructuralist essay, the paper has no real ending.

The article itself does not discuss the film in the context of being a film noir, but in and of itself. One of the items that it discusses falls under the heading of “D: ‘Dependable’”. This is the role of the secretary with the heart of gold in a private eye movie. We see this in Kiss Me Deadly, a later noir film, and in others of the genre. While this was a fairly established concept, having it in this film helped to crystallize the idea. In addition, we also get the concept of sexual restraint in direct contradiction to the amount of sexual tension within the movie. While this is a result of the new restrictions of the day on films, it results in a hero who has a romantic relationship, but also the moral values not to indulge in any kind of elicit sexual activity with that person. This would be another common theme in the flawed heroes of the later film noirs, an underlying moral code that provides them with a sense of sexual restraint during the movie.

Wadia, Rashna. "So Many Fragments, So Many Beginnings,So Many Pleasures: The Neglected Detail(s) in Film Theory." Criticism 45.2 (2003`): 173-95. Project Muse. 24 Nov 2008.

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/criticism/v045/45.2wadia.html

Michael Davidson’s article discusses how various disabilities are used to create a stereotype of the people who have them in film, what he calls the “phantom limb phenomenon”. In film noir, this is especially prevalent, extending beyond physical disabilities to include both mental disabilities, even homosexuality in some cases. The author then considers the feminist point of view, in the form of Laura Mulvey’s analysis of Rear Window and Vertigo, where men with disabilities have obsessive compulsions involving women, a sort of way to enhance their masculinity. The author believes both Mulvey and her critics to accept castration as too easy an explanation for the compulsions. He goes on to write extensively about Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity, both in reference to the relationship between Neff, the male lead and committer of insurance fraud, and Keyes, a man against insurance fraud, and in the parallels between Neff and Mr. Dietrichson. The author then discusses similar themes of disability in Welles’s Lady from Shanghai. He concludes with some final thoughts on the relationship between sexuality and physical disability.

The main idea that we get from this article relates to the theme of subconscious sexual themes in the film noirs. While definitely more obvious and prevalent in later movies like Double Indemnity, as Davidson mentioned, we can find these themes in The Maltese Falcon, as well. The most obvious one would be the effeminate and most likely homosexual character of Joel Cairo, played by Peter Lorre. In all ways, the character is the least imposing of any of the five main characters. He has not the wily charms of Brigid, the power of Gutman, or the violence of Wilmer. Even the gun he pulls on Spade in his office is almost laughably tiny. The man seems fragile, as if he would break at any moment, his effeminacy a most definite weakness. Also, returning to the guns, the phallic symbolism of the weapon throughout the film is obvious. As mentioned before, Cairo’s is tiny, reflecting his lack of masculinity. Also, the ease with which Spade disarms Wilmer emasculates the man, taking his gun away from him. The fact that Spade is the only one who is able to hold onto his establishes him as the dominant male.

Davidson, Michael. "Phantom Limbs: Film Noir and the Disabled Body." GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies 9.1-2 (2003): 57-77. Project Muse. 24 Nov 2008.

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/journal_of_lesbian_and_gay_studies/v009/9.1davidson.html

James Naremore’s article attempts to trace out the history of the idea of American film noir. He determines its origins not to be in a genre or a visual style, but in Paris, France, where a series of five films, including Double Indemnity and The Maltese Falcon, were shown together in 1946. Because the French coined the term, they also determined what constituted a film noir. In addition, there ability to have an outside opinion on Hollywood films aided them in defining it. He focuses on the French newspapers, as they were more willing to coin the new term than the American, sharing the theme of brutal violence and darkened view on society. Moving forward, the new French writers threw their own existential ideas on top of the film noirs as they began to die out. In the end, the film noirs lead to a new movement in French cinema, at the same time ending the first age.

Within this article, we get a much more factually based analysis of the origins of Film Noir, going back to the foundations of the word in France. There is a mention of the origins of the style of the five films screened in Paris in 1946 being traced back to the French urban crime melodramas. Though it is obviously not French, The Maltese Falcon was an urban crime melodrama, and, of the screened films that inspired the term, was the earliest, chronologically. The theme of brutal violence also occurs often in The Maltese Falcon, from the shooting of Archer, a scene that is in no ways elegant, and the constant hand to hand combat between Spade and others, where he simply overpowers others, is rife with this. We would see this echoed in later noirs like Night of the Hunter, with its strong focus on the power of a man over a woman and her children, his strength simply increasing his menace.

Naremore, James. "American Film Noir: The History of an Idea." Film Quarterly 49.2 (1995-96): 12-28. JSOTR. 29 Nov 2008. http://www.jstor.org/stable/pdfplus/1213310.pdf

This article discusses film noir and its origins. It begins by establishing the mood of disillusionment evoked by the film noir movies and the origins of this in both the literature and prose of the time, but the times themselves. It is also established that film noir is a very loose term in that it has not yet been determined to define a genre, a time period, or a visual style, though the all share common elements. The article then discusses two books which criticize film noir: Paula Rabinowitz’s Black and White and Noir: America Pulp Modernism and Nicole Rafter’s Shots in the Mirror: Crime Films and Society. The books both take similar but varying looks at film noir, and the article criticizes them as not having a broad enough view of film noir to complete a strong analysis. The article concludes with speculation of film noir’s origins in the American Gothic tradition, and how that somewhat anarchist worldview can be seen to be represented in film noir.

What we get here is an analysis of the concept of film noir in general. Scruggs covers a lot of material in his article of film noir. What we are able to draw from this are two things: film noirs have both a definitive style and often fitting nicely into the formula of a crime film. We can infer that this template of the crime film became popular at least partially because of the success The Maltese Falcon had with this style. Also, the idea of the flawed hero is central to many noir films, a concept we can fully identify in our hero of The Maltese Falcon, Mr. Sam Spade. While he’s not evil like Gutman or Joel Cairo, there are certain unsavory aspects about Sam Spade, such as the affair he is having with Archer’s wife. As Scruggs suggests, to overlooks the darkness in film noir characters is to miss a great deal of their meaning.

Scruggs, Charles. ""The Power of Blackness": Film Noir and Its Critics." American Literary History 16.4 (2004): 675-87. Project Muse. 24 Nov 2008.

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/american_literary_history/v016/16.4scruggs.html

Chapter seven of this book analyzes the phallic imagery and masculine symbolism in four different movies of the film noir genre. The analysis of the first movie, The Maltese Falcon, is short and focuses on the definite masculinity of Sam Spade, setting it as a control to compare the other three to. He then takes time to mention the threat of women to masculinity. The second film, The Dark Corner, features a protagonist, in Bradford Galt, who is much less self-assured than Sam Spade, to the point where he is submissive to others and dependant on his female secretary. The next film, Out of the Past, shows a man, Jeff Markham/Bailey, who seems to personify the idea of the hard boiled protagonist, but unlike Spade, he falls to the charms of a woman when she’s around. Finally, we reach the film The Killers, where Swede, the tough boxer, is so completely under the spell of a woman that he kills himself eventually.

As expected, we find out more about the tough protagonists of the majority of noir films. In this instance, we see how the later films play off of the established model of Sam Spade from The Maltese Falcon to create more complex characters. This is not to say that the tough Sam Spade of The Maltese Falcon is not a fully realized character, for he most definitely is, just different from the other protagonists. Sam Spade is a man in full possession of his faculties, with a seeming disconnect from humanity in general, almost contempt for it. This is the largest change, as the others seem to follow the formula of the hero of Double Indemnity, where a tough man can fight the world, but not the charms of a beautiful woman. So while the characters of Markham and Swede share Spade’s masculinity in respect to be physically imposing, they fall short of his mental toughness.

In chapter 2 of his book, Crowther further details the history of film noir in the works of, what he calls, “Tough Guy Writers”, many of whom wrote crime stories for pulp magazines after having careers in newspaper. Many of these stories would eventually become film noirs. The first author discussed is Cornell George Hopley-Woolrich, who explored the human psyche with his disturbed male characters. W. R. Burnett was another, though his stories tended more towards the realm of gangster stories than the crime film noirs, and movies based on them reflected that. Horace McCoy also provided criminal stories, some becoming even darker than the majority of pulp crime novels. James M. Cain’s sharp and short writing style, especially the quick dialogue, suited itself well to film noir. The works of Dashiell Hammett were more complex in their prose than the other of the tough guy writers, even to the point of philosophizing. The final of the major writers, Raymond Chandler, defined his stories by a distinct knowledge and use of location to set his novels.

We see in this chapter of the book how the film noirs grew out of the popular genre of cult novels, whose action and snappy dialogue lent themselves to being adapted to film. Of these adaptations, Huston’s version of The Maltese Falcon was not the first, not even of the novel itself. However, the mood and dialogue of the film and its use of a hard boiled protagonist were very uncommon, especially in mainstream cinema. The film most definitely has the corruption of the human psyche that the author states is a characteristic of Woolrich’s novels that lent itself to the film noir genre. One thing the author is quick to point out about The Maltese Falcon is that while the protagonist loves the leading lady, the femme fatale, he allows her to be taken away. The ending in itself is typical of the downer endings of film noirs, but the fact that the protagonist does not fight for his love is atypical of the later film noirs, like Kiss Me Deadly and Double Indemnity, where the protagonist follows the femme fatale to his near death.

Chapter 8 of the book details the production of The Maltese Falcon. John Huston, a first time director, convinced producer Henry Blanke to film the novel a third time, with a closer focus on the novel. The script passed the censors with a few minor alterations to reduce sexual content and Bogart, the second choice, was cast as the lead after a series of role swaps and power plays on the part of Bogart and other actors. Mary Astor, also the second choice, received the female lead, while Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet were also cast, first choices both of them. In a change from the subdued 1931 version and the light hearted 1936 version, the Huston film took a much more serious and realistic view of the characters. Contrary to most Warner films, The Maltese Falcon was shot at a much slower pace, and the result was approved by the producers. Relatively few reshoots were needed and the film debuted far above expectations. Bogart’s star took off from here, and while Warner wanted to film another, similar film with the same leads, the project fell through.

This short description of the production of The Maltese Falcon gives us a little insight into what could’ve been and how close certain key elements nearly did not fall into place. Of them, the two biggest would be the near casting of George Raft in the lead role of Sam Spade. Almost without a doubt, this would have changed the entire portrayal of the Sam Spade character, as Bogart’s interpretation of the character was unique in the other three versions of the story, including the original novel. Also, the changes forced upon the script by the Production Code Association resulted in the sexual tension between the characters being mostly off-screen and subdued. This idea of just below the surface sexual tension would become a major theme in almost all of the film noirs, and even though it’s not as big of a theme in The Maltese Falcon, there are major unexplored sexual plotlines.

Citation:

Musser, Charles. "To Redream the Dreams of White Playwrights: Reappropriation and Resistance in Oscar Micheaux's Body and Soul" Yale Journal of Criticism 12.2 (1999): 321-356.

Content and Relevance of Work:

Professor of Film Studies at Yale University, Charles Musser, attempts to reevaluate Oscar Micheaux's Body and Soul after its misinterpretation by various scholars over the years. In order to counteract scholars' misreading of the film, Musser describes the "problems" of Micheaux's stylistics: his intertwining of flashbacks with dreams in Body and Soul, and how this destabilizes the status of the represented event. Musser refuses to blame Micheaux's unfortunate economic circumstances and his lack of funding for his individualistic approach to film. This article also mentions how Micheaux adapted the story behind Body and Soul from three plays by white playwrights: Bagby Stephens's Roseanne and Eugene O'Neill's two race plays The Emperor Jones and All God's Chillun' Got Wings. The content of each of these plays is discussed, along with actor Paul Robeson's involvement in all four productions, and Micheaux's supposed exploitation of Robeson. Musser analyzes Micheaux's strategy for reworking these plays into his own complex narrative, and the film's critical reception at the time of its release and today.

            As mentioned before, this article examines Micheaux's use of flashback in Body and Soul. These flashbacks subvert the significance of the particular occurring event in order to achieve a higher goal. According to Musser, Micheaux thought that dream and reality had a similar structure lacking coherence or a logical pattern of cause and effect, a standpoint with which I disagree. If Micheaux truly felt cause and effect did not exist in life, he would not have created Body and Soul. The entire purpose of making this film was to notify the black community of its major flaws, which is the cause, and provoke his black audience to fix these issues, which is the effect. This effort is symbolized in Martha Jane's character, who must hear and believe her daughter's confession of Rev. Jenkins rape in order to face reality. Blacks must hear Micheaux's message to facilitate change in American society.  

Citation:

Green, Ronald J. "Oscar Micheaux's Interrogation of Caricature as Entertainment." Film Quarterly 51.3 (1998): 16-31.

Content and Relevance of Work:

J. Ronald Green's article addresses the issue of Black stereotypes and caricatures displayed in the entertainment industry. Green believes that pervasive, ethnic images blocked any autonomous effort put forth by African American entertainers to provide a realistic model of African American citizenship. Since nothing could be accomplished until that problem was resolved, Oscar Micheaux made this issue a top priority. Then, the author highlights important milestones of Micheaux's career, his childhood, and the financial hurdles he was forced to overcome. Green focuses on the success of D.W. Griffith's Birth of a Nation: the stereotypes and setbacks it provided for African Americans, and the motivation it provided Micheaux to remove these caricatures. Micheaux, Green argues, recreates these caricatures for the purpose of criticizing them, and explains how dialects provide a framework in relation to his ethnic criticisms.

Overall, Green's defends Micheaux's use of caricatures, saying it draws attention to what is wrong in the Black community, so that Blacks can repair the problem in what Green calls a "search and destroy" mission on Micheaux's part. Since this text suggests that Micheaux goes beyond positive images to function within the race as a starting cure, Micheaux held high expectations for the future of black and white race relations. If the black community were to answer his call, and repair its problems, blacks could finally command respect from whites. As a result, the change Micheaux attempts to provoke could spark an end to most of the mistreatment and racism projected by whites upon blacks. Unlike author Charlene Regester's article titled "The Misreading and Rereading of Oscar Micheaux," Green's article does not discuss Body and Soul's relevance a larger audience (i.e. not just a black audience).

Citation:

Regester, Charlene. "The Misreading and Rereading of African American Filmmaker Oscar Micheaux: A Critical Review of Micheaux Scholarship" Film History 7.4 (1995): 426-449.

Content and Relevance of Work:

In this article, author and editor Charlene Regester defends Micheaux's intentions for making such controversial films, implying that the public misreads and misinterprets his work. Regester counters quotes from other Micheaux scholars, such as Gary Null and Donald Bogle, to argue her opinion that Micheaux presented valuable lessons to the Black community in each of his films. The article advises the re-examination of Micheaux's films. This text investigates how the critical profile of Micheaux has been constructed by researchers and scholars, how this profile has changed overtime (each decade from before the seventies to the nineties), and how it continues to evolve. Although many Micheaux scholars believe his films lacked ethnic truth and only reflected the outlooks of the black bourgeoisie, Regester claims Micheaux felt that whites and blacks were on an equal level: just as affluent, educated, cultured, and well-mannered. Lastly, Regester confronts the difficulty of studying African American filmmakers by the same standards as those used for critiquing white American filmmakers without taking into consideration the unique obstacles that complicated the African American filmmaking efforts.

According to Regester, Micheaux ignored the supposed burden of representing the blacks in only a favorable light because if his desire to better the African American community. Cripps says, in his quote within the article, this need to accurately depict black life is an exposé of social conditions relevant only to "Negro circles," and that Rev. Jenkins is an allegorical black figure who symbolizes the overall struggle of blacks: whether to fill the role of prim bourgeois, and risk losing black culture, or to become a criminal and hustler. Regester states, though, that through Micheaux's description of this rare side of black life to the general public, audiences (both black and white) found similarities to one another. Micheaux's focus on the dichotomy of good and evil pertains to a struggle of all mankind, not simply that of the black race. This particular aspect of Body and Soul that Regester identifies will be at the center of my essay.

In his essay, Professor of Cinema Studies at City University of New York, David A. Gerstner compares the styles and editing techniques of the black father of cinema, Oscar Micheaux, with those of the whit father of cinema, D.W. Griffith. Despite their similarities, like laying new creative groundwork for cinema, or the use of melodramatic devices to heighten both spectator response and the spectacle unfolding onscreen, Gerstner quickly establishes a crucial disparity between these two "fathers" of film: Micheaux and Griffith's similar use of temporally ambiguous parallel editing must be traced along a different set of cultural and aesthetic paths. Gerstner examines the classical Hollywood cinema, to which Griffith attributed greatly, mode of production, largely considered to be an illusory and cohesive filmic representation of time and space. Gerstner goes on to describe Griffith's works and use of parallel editing. Then, Gerstener discusses Micheaux's approach to film, and the similarities of Micheaux and Griffith's parallel editing. The essay highlights the "affect cut:" how directors, especially Micheaux, reorganize time and space within their films for a more powerful affect upon the audiences. Finally, Gerstner explains the projections of black manhood in Micheaux's Within Our Gates.

Gerstner's views are useful for my essay because his assessment can further my argument concerning Micheaux's individualistic style as a rejection of Griffith's popular Hollywood methods. Gerstner clarifies Micheaux's use of flashbacks for temporal vagueness, describing them as components that saturate the filmic present with the weight of the traumatic past. Micheaux wanted his audience to be unsure of shifts in space and time to emphasize the magnitude of this burden of the past on his characters. In order to fully relate to the story, Micheaux thought viewer must experience the trouble and stress of the burden as much as the characters in the film.

Citation:

Musser, Charles. "To Redream the Dreams of White Playwrights: Reappropriation and Resistance in Oscar Micheaux's Body and Soul" Yale Journal of Criticism 12.2 (1999): 321-356.

J. Ronald Green's article addresses the issue of Black stereotypes and caricatures displayed in the entertainment industry. Green believes that pervasive, ethnic images blocked any autonomous effort put forth by African American entertainers to provide a realistic model of African American citizenship. Since nothing could be accomplished until that problem was resolved, Oscar Micheaux made this issue a top priority. Then, the author highlights important milestones of Micheaux's career, his childhood, and the financial hurdles he was forced to overcome. Green focuses on the success of D.W. Griffith's Birth of a Nation: the stereotypes and setbacks it provided for African Americans, and the motivation it provided Micheaux to remove these caricatures. Micheaux, Green argues, recreates these caricatures for the purpose of criticizing them, and explains how dialects provide a framework in relation to his ethnic criticisms.

Overall, Green's defends Micheaux's use of caricatures, saying it draws attention to what is wrong in the Black community, so that Blacks can repair the problem in what Green calls a "search and destroy" mission on Micheaux's part. Since this text suggests that Micheaux goes beyond positive images to function within the race as a starting cure, Micheaux held high expectations for the future of black and white race relations. If the black community were to answer his call, and repair its problems, blacks could finally command respect from whites. As a result, the change Micheaux attempts to provoke could spark an end to most of the mistreatment and racism projected by whites upon blacks. Unlike author Charlene Regester's article titled "The Misreading and Rereading of Oscar Micheaux," Green's article does not discuss Body and Soul's relevance a larger audience (i.e. not just a black audience).

Citation:

Green, Ronald J. "Oscar Micheaux's Interrogation of Caricature as Entertainment." Film Quarterly 51.3 (1998): 16-31.

Citation:

Regester, Charlene. "The Misreading and Rereading of African American Filmmaker Oscar Micheaux: A Critical Review of Micheaux Scholarship" Film History 7.4 (1995): 426-449.

In this article, author and editor Charlene Regester defends Micheaux's intentions for making such controversial films, implying that the public misreads and misinterprets his work. Regester counters quotes from other Micheaux scholars, such as Gary Null and Donald Bogle, to argue her opinion that Micheaux presented valuable lessons to the Black community in each of his films. The article advises the re-examination of Micheaux's films. This text investigates how the critical profile of Micheaux has been constructed by researchers and scholars, how this profile has changed overtime (each decade from before the seventies to the nineties), and how it continues to evolve. Although many Micheaux scholars believe his films lacked ethnic truth and only reflected the outlooks of the black bourgeoisie, Regester claims Micheaux felt that whites and blacks were on an equal level: just as affluent, educated, cultured, and well-mannered. Lastly, Regester confronts the difficulty of studying African American filmmakers by the same standards as those used for critiquing white American filmmakers without taking into consideration the unique obstacles that complicated the African American filmmaking efforts.

According to Regester, Micheaux ignored the supposed burden of representing the blacks in only a favorable light because if his desire to better the African American community. Cripps says, in his quote within the article, this need to accurately depict black life is an exposé of social conditions relevant only to "Negro circles," and that Rev. Jenkins is an allegorical black figure who symbolizes the overall struggle of blacks: whether to fill the role of prim bourgeois, and risk losing black culture, or to become a criminal and hustler. Regester states, though, that through Micheaux's description of this rare side of black life to the general public, audiences (both black and white) found similarities to one another. Micheaux's focus on the dichotomy of good and evil pertains to a struggle of all mankind, not simply that of the black race. This particular aspect of Body and Soul that Regester identifies will be at the center of my essay.

The authors, filmmaker Pearl Bowser and professor Louise Spence, explore Oscar Micheaux's silent drama, Body and Soul (1925), in relation to some of the critical discourses of the past. After the release of Birth of a Nation in 1915, many middle-class Black-Americans desired for assimilation and acceptance into typical White-American culture. Creating films that reflected his personal experiences and observations, Micheaux focused on realistic representations and important issues of the race-conscious Black community, rather than positive images. The texts describes how many members of the Black community felt Micheaux placed too much emphasis on the oppressed, causing social embarrassment, and accused him of disloyalty.  The authors use the considerations and critiques of Body and Soul and other early works to examine some of the competing cultural value judgments that inflected the politics of racial identity and pursuit of racial unity throughout the period between the Great War and the Great Depression.

            The aspects of Body and Soul discussed in this article address how Micheaux exposed stereotypes in order to convey a message to his Black audience. Bowser and Spence consider how Micheaux challenged the authority of the minister within the Black church congregations with his main character, malevolent preacher Isaiah T. Jenkins. The parishioners support the minister, despite his violent and murderous ways, with their unquestioning faith. The article points out that, while the minister's power goes unsupervised, the church-goers "blind faith" endorses the minister's corruption. The guise of the ministry enables the con artist to hone and deploy his deceptions. Just as Rev. Jenkins hides behind the body of the church (the congregation), blacks hide behind the burden of representation: since blacks represent the minority, and all people are defined by race, they feel as though every move made will affect others' perceptions of the black race. Therefore, blacks wish to conceal or ignore the flaws within their own community. Although African Americans expect artistic voices to "represent" blacks only in a good light, or to be art of protest in civil rights and race relations, "representation" is not art. Art is about truth, which Micheaux realizes, and truth is always a burden on the truth-teller. Willing to accept this burden, Micheaux uses film as a call to the black community, a message pinpointing important issues that he felt must be fixed.   

Citation:

Bowser, Pearl and Louis Spence. "Oscar Micheaux's Body and Soul and the Burden of Representation" Cinema Journal 39.3 (2000): 3-29.

  Kolberg. Dir. Veit Harlan. Perf. Horst Caspar, Gustav Diessl, Heinrich George, Kurt Meisel, Kristina Soderbaum . DVD. UFA, 1945. 

    Kolberg is a historical epic of the Nazi film era.  It is about the patriotism of the people of Kolberg during the Napoleonic wars and the importance of the average citizen.  The film highlights the patriotism of Nettleback.  He steps on the toes of his superiors to make sure that victory was had in Kolberg at all costs because that is what the people of Kolberg desire, for they are a proud and loyal people.  The officer in charge of Kolberg’s defense is doing a poor job and conflicts with Nettelback, imprisoning Nettelback, who was merely trying to correct the deficits in Kolberg?s defenses.  Nettelback sends his trusted Maria to the king to ask for a different officer for Kolberg.  Maria meets with the queen and is struck speechless by the Queen’s beauty and majesty.  She is successful in getting Nettelback’s request granted.  The way Nettelback and the newly appointed officer work together shows how the citizens and the government can truly combine efforts for the greater good.  Romance also finds its way in the film with Maria and Lieutenant Schill.  The reoccurring theme throughout the film is that a citizen must be willing to sacrifice all for his country.  Honor and loyalty to one’s country trump all else. This theme is illustrated in Maria and Lieutenant Schill's conversation about their willingness to sacrifice all for Kolberg and how only then would it be enough.
    Joseph Goebbels, minister of propaganda, felt that Kolberg would inspire the citizens to support World War II by drawing on astounding examples of patriotism by average citizens and its great significance to Germany.  Because of the importance Goebbels placed in the impact of the film, he was willing to divert many of Germany’s much needed war resources to the making of this movie, which was the one of costliest of this era.  Two hundred thousand troops were used in the making of the film, troops that were taken away from battle.  The cost of the film was very extravagant, and Germany really did not have the surplus of resources to accommodate such a project.  Film production began in 1943 and was not completed until 1945, so the film’s impact as a source of propaganda was very minimal, considering Germany was on the brink of defeat and most of the theaters were closed from the mass destruction from the Allies’ bombings.  “The film remained virtually unseen as the city fell to Soviet troops” (Thompson and Bordwell 274).  Overall, Kolberg was a great folly of Goebbels and a waste of money and resources that Germany could not afford. (Thompson and Bordwell 274)
Thompson, Kristin, and David Bordwell. Film History An Introduction. 2nd. New York: McGraw Hill, 2003.

In February of 1931 New York Times journalist Mordaunt Hall reviewed Director Tod Browning’s film Dracula. Throughout his review the writer raves about the picture; even though his summarization, his excited tone is evident. Although within his short article he seems to be enamored with the fantastical idea behind of the film, he does concede that the acting of some individuals is sub par. He ends with the line “This film can at least boast of being the best of the many mystery films.”
    Although it may appear unassuming at first, this article is actually very telling. Not only does it describe how the critics and the public felt about the film in 1931, it now serves as a forecast for the success that Universal would see later on with its other horror films. The author readily acknowledges that the film is not a high class picture but one for the masses, aimed squarely at those with the imagination and courage to view it. And arguably, it came at no better time. With the great depression in full swing and a general sense of hopelessness abounding, America needed a way to escape. What better way to do it than a Universal Pictures horror movie? After all, not much can scare someone after they face down the idea of not having enough to feed their families day after day. Dracula, as well as Frankenstein, the Wolfman and the Mummy, served as icons of distraction that helped America get though hard times and ignite their imaginations. This service proved invaluable in these troubled times and ultimately resulted in their visible location in modern society.

Directed by James Whale and starring Boris Karloff as Frankenstein’s monster, Universals adaptation of the 1818 Mary Shelley novel Frankenstein was a crucial film in the studios line of horror pictures. Like Dracula, the film was released in 1931 and received critical acclaim from both critics and the public alike. The films narrative follows the now familiar plot of a mad scientist bent on creating a man from assorted dead parts and playing God. The twist occurs when the monster becomes uncontrollable and instead of creating man, Dr. Frankenstein creates a dreadful monster. By the end of the film, the local townspeople decide that the creation is an abomination and ultimately destroy it. The film was lauded because of its superb make-up, special effects and thrilling plot. It later spawned several sequels, prequels and side stories including Bride of Frankenstein and Frankenstein vs. the Wolfman.
    The true testament to the iconic nature of the film can be seen in the visual representations of Frankenstein that pervade the world today. Almost every single representation of the character we see in western society is based on the green skinned, bolted and shambling version presented to us by Universal in the early 1930’s. We see versions of Boris Karloff’s face on cereal boxes, cartoons and, of course, in the masks of Halloween costumes. The longevity of these images that occur in our culture is a genuine indicator of the success of the Universal horror line of films; they have become integrated into our popular consciousness and now represent the traditional fiends and monsters that we draw on for inspiration. Like with Dracula, Universal’s Frankenstein has become the most recognizable version of the monsters narrative, even more so than the original work by Shelley. Because of these reasons, Universal was able to establish itself as the best studio producer of horror films of the 20th century.

Written by Michael Atkinson in 1998, this article was featured in the Village Voice film section. In its paragraphs it describes a number of classic horror films a person could bring his or her family to. Atkinson stated that during the hey-day of horror films during the 1930s and 1940s the films must have supplied thrills and fun for depression era movie goers. He contends that their age now makes them more appealing to young boys and lovers of camp. With titles like Frankenstein vs. the Wolfman, who can blame him? Because of this, Atkinson states, the films are now more humorous than scary. He does however say that Universal Horror had a large influence on popular culture. He states:

    This small handful of films are responsible for more specific cultural touchstones than the era's westerns, musicals, and gangster films combined: Jack Pierce's flat-headed Frankenstein monster makeup and hotwired-Afro Bride design, Lugosi's accent, the hunchbacked lab assistant, the mad scientist, the throbbing electrical hardware of the lab itself, crowds of townspeople with torches, the details of werewolf myth (silver bullets, etc.), the vampire's old-world urbanity, and so on.

    Atkinson’s article for the most part is very agreeable. It’s blatantly obvious that the Universal horror films of the 1930s and 40s have begun to show their age. He eludes to the fact that horror films have evolved since then; this is very true. Films now contain much more gore, special effects, nudity and action. The modern audience has been desensitized to the traditional scares of yesteryear. The horror genre has come a long way since 1931 as the society that creates these narratives alters its own tastes as time marches on. In the 60’s we had the underhanded thrills of Hitchcock, the 80’s brought the blood with the likes of Freddy Krueger, and with the new millennium our society has found itself with the over-the-top style of the Saw series. Yet what these newer films lack is the other point Atkinson contends with within his article. The classic films that he highlights, especially ones like Dracula and Frankenstein, have engrained themselves in our national consciousness and have become a part of our collective identity. While today they may seem cheesy, at their release these films were truly terrifying tales about monsters that go bump in the night.

This chapter of Film History: An International Journal was dubbed Sauerkraut & Sausages with a Little Goulash: Germans in Hollywood, 1927. The chapter dealt with the influx of German filmmakers into Hollywood during the 1920s and early 30s. Additionally, it talked about in detail the union of the styles of German expressionism and Hollywood, and its effects on the national and international film industries. Fleeing an increasingly more fascist Germany, these filmmakers brought with them techniques and skills that Hollywood readily adopted. The author further sustains that these filmmakers had an expressionist style that included a low key lighting design that was previously associated with German high art cinema. In 1930’s Hollywood, this technique was applied mostly to the classic horror films that we know today.
    German expressionism was extremely important in the development of the horror genre. Starting with Nosferatu in 1922, a unique take on Bram Stoker’s Dracula story, horror films used expressionistic techniques to their advantage. Shadows, contrasting lighting, heavy make-up and special effect are all expressionistic techniques that persist in the horror genre even to present day. Films during the 1930s were especially influenced by the style because many of the German immigrants, like Dracula cinematographer Karl Freund, went straight from their motherland to Universal Pictures where they began work on the horror classics we cherish today. German expressionism, while having a relatively short lifespan, greatly influenced film style worldwide and shaped Hollywood horror more so than anything else.

The writer of this article discusses a book called Hollywood Gothic: The Tangled Web of "Dracula" from Novel to Stage to Screen. Within his article he summarizes the book and talks about its more interesting aspects and ideas. According to his details, the text deals with many adaptations of the popular legend, both mainstream and obscure. While the book’s author mentions the 1931 version of Dracula with Bela Lugosi, he seems to mostly focus on another version by George Melford and Carlos Villiaras. This other version of the Bram Stoker narrative was also made by Universal in 1931 and even used the same script and sets. However this edition was filmed in Spanish as it was going to be distributed to Mexico and Spain. The book’s author argues that this version not a mere clone but is vastly superior to the American version in both cinematic style and performances. Within the book the author also recounts the legal battles surrounding F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu. While this film was another adaptation of the Dracula legend popularized by Bram Stoker, it was not authorized by the authors and thus illegal. The books author contended that although it was illegitimate in the eyes of the law, this 1922 silent version was still a extremely entertaining and a well done film.
    As the author describes, the story of Dracula is one filled with many appropriations of his image and hundreds of adaptations. He also states that the 1931 Spanish language version of Dracula was one of the best uses of the narrative ever. To this, many would have to agree. However, the reason why this version reigns supreme within the world of cinema is chiefly because of the company that backed its production. Universal brought together the inventive minds of make-up artist Jack Pierce, Director Tod Browning and Cinematographer Karl Freund to create a memorable works whose echoes can still be felt within society today. Although many individuals may be able to create an adaptation of a horror story, few pulled it off as well as Universal Pictures and their collection of ingenious minds.

    This particular entry appeared in the St. James Encyclopedia of Pop Culture and was written by Austin Booth. Within its pages, Mr. Booth describes the monster Dracula, in almost all of his many incarnations, within the realm of popular culture. He of course talks extensively about the 1931 version of the narrative, but also finds time to pay homage to a wide variety of characters such as “Sesame Street's Count, Grandpa Munster, Blackula, Duckula, and Count Chockula.” He then describes the resurgence of interest in monster culture on television during the late 1950s and 1960s. Lastly, his entry focuses on the idea of Dracula as a foil or guide to view popular ideas of psychological and social issues.

    Dracula is interesting as he can represent a metaphor for several issues within our society. Some see him as the fear of homosexuals in bodily form. Others believe him to be representative of medieval aristocracy or the uncaring nature of nobility towards the proletariat. A few individuals even see him as the embodiment of his victims in fiendish form. While his physical forms may be analogous to one another, the ideas behind Dracula are much more amorphous. The count is a fascinating monster as his intentions and metaphors can be appropriated to match many circumstances. His status is ambiguous as both fiend and gentleman, hyper-masculine and feminine, ravenous and deliberate. His conflicting dualities lend him to fit within many roles; because of this filmmakers have adapted his persona to suit different eras and audiences.

This article by Robert Spadoni called “The Uncanny Body of Early Sound Film” describes in detail the early days of sound in film. Although it only talks about Dracula by Tod Browning briefly, the rest of its information is applicable nonetheless. He explains that early sound technologies were crude, and thus elicited different feelings from the audience than it does now. At the time, sound was a new technology that people were not quite used to yet and many horror films, like Dracula, used this to thier advantage. The author describes how Dracula actor Bela Lugosi intones his lines in “the thickly accented and gloriously offbeat manner that has since endeared him to many fans.” The synchronization of the image and his otherworldly accent, the author says, sent shivers down the spines of unsuspecting audience goers.

    This article very much gets one fact absolutely right: Sound was a very important feature of early horror films. As a new characteristic of the medium, in 1931 films with sound brought in audiences by themselves, the technology was still was a bit of a novelty to the public as they were not yet quite used to it. Moreover, sound on film allowed filmmakers to create more involved narratives and further draw in the viewer. In both Dracula and its contemporary works, the balance of silence and sound is used to heighten the thrill the public receives from each scene. Additionally, the uses of ambient noise – the howl of a wolf, the sound of bats leaving a cave, the creak of a door hinge – were used in Dracula to scare the audience. Today these techniques are still used and still offer the same chills and thrills they delivered almost 80 years ago. Perhaps it’s hardwired into our brains but sound is one of the most effective ways to disturb the human mind; Dracula and other Universal horror films knew this and used it.

Nosferatu was an early German horror film made in 1922 by director F.W. Murnau. While the film was one of the first cinematic takes on the Dracula legend, it was not actually approved by the Stoker estate. Because of this, all copies of the film were required to be rounded up and destroyed. However, the film was never fully suppressed because of the enormity of the task – the film had already spread across the globe and too many people did not want to part with it. Although the Stoker estate attempted to stop the spread of the film, it was already too late; the film had already achieved cult classic status as an eerie and otherworldly work. Today the film can be obtained for free legally as it has fallen into public domain.

    Nosferatu was extremely important to the development of both horror films and Dracula based narratives that followed it. Although illegal, as a German expressionist film the picture used several cinematic techniques that influenced Universal’s 1931 version and are still frequently in the genre today. In fact, many of the attributes of the film are now seen as staples of the horror genre. The use of low key lighting, shadows and special effects were all used in the creation of this silent film. When used together these visual effects helped the film establish the villain “Count Orlok” as a terrifying supernatural beast that should be feared. The chiaroscuro lighting that helped hide the monster in the shadows, show approaching danger and contrast images is still widely used in modern horror films.

Picart, Carolyn Joan S.  "Visualizing the Monstrous in Frankenstein Films."  JSTOR: Pacific Coast Philology Vol. 35, No. 1 (2000), pp. 17-34.  University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008.

    Picart writes that the production and evolution of a Frankenstein film itself is a Frankensteinian exercise, with the careful sewing together of pieces of scripts, copyright and budgetary considerations, commercial packaging, visual iterations of what the monstrous entails, directorial prerogatives, and actor interpretations.  In the process she argues, the novel itself becomes radically reworked, particularly in the way the monster is visually presented to the audience.  Unlike the novel, he can no longer deprives us of the sight of him and his monstrosity.
    Picart argues that the myth of male self-birthing underlying Mary Shelley's Frankenstein has undergone many filmic transformations that "hyperbolize, exaggerate, or radicalize" the myth itself.  She argues that the film adaptations constitute an evolving "dystopian shadow myth," which "lays bare many suppressed anxieties we have towards technology."  She goes on to argue that the myth of male self-engendering can be traced back to Greek mythology, including the birth of Dionysus from the thigh of Zeus.
    Later, Picart claims that Frankenstein's monster is the ultimate tool, and the replication of our bodies and our intelligence through scientific technology.  Humans, she writes, approach the Frankensteinian myth and the "machine" in two ways.  They either view the creature as a monstrous Other that they must harness, or as a part of themselves they must acknowledge, recognizing that the Other is part of the Self. 
    Picart engages in a lengthy discussion of female monstrosity and other gender-based issues.  She states that within the Frankenstein film category, female monsters usually live short lives, functioning as servants such as Nina the hunchbacked nurse in House of Dracula.  These female monsters, she argues, are infused with masculine spirits that are trapped in female bodies.
    With regards to the 1931 film, Picart writes that Whale's film and other Universal products of the era contain many elements of German Expressionism in terms of atmosphere and symbolism.  She writes that Whale's films employ the aesthetics of black and white film, using techniques of chiaroscuro and symbolic framing.  She notes that the film relates the creature's suffering to that of Jesus Christ through a close-up shot of the monster being strung up on a pole, with its body presented in a painful pose resembling a crucifixion.  Ultimately, Picart analyzes many other Frankenstein films over the years as a way of arguing about the problematic nature of Frankenstein narratives, and the presence of the "ruthless repression of the monstrous feminine and the feminine-as-monstrous."  Although much of the article is about gender, there is a lot of useful information about Whale's cinematic strategies.  Her argument that the production and evolution of a Frankenstein film is itself a Frankensteinian exercise is particularly interesting and relevant to the question at hand.

White, Dennis L.  "The Poetics of Horror: More than Meets the Eye."  JSTOR: Cinema Journal Vol. 10, No. 2 (Spring, 1971), pp. 1-18.  University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008.

    In this article, White is interested in analyzing the pieces that make up what most people consider to be a good film, regardless of genre.  He writes that it is not simply the pieces themselves, but something within those pieces and the way those pieces are constructed that make a film good or bad.  He writes that horror films are typically B-movies, making their analysis typically superficial and mostly limited to a summation of plot.  There is little possibility for a horror film to be considered a work of art.  Nonetheless, White links art and horror, tracing the link back to Greek tragedy.  He talks about the word "horror" being found in Aristotle's Poetics.
    With films in the Frankenstein franchise, White calls the films "nothing more than a stringing together of every horror cliché from dark castles to mad scientists to the return of the dead."  He claims that any film having anything to do with the supernatural, cults, monsters, mad scientists, graveyards, etc. is classified as a work of horror, and is often easily abused due to carelessness and overconfidence from the filmmaker.  White acknowledges that these films can be successful because they provoke the emotion of horror, but only if carefully executed.
    For films like James Whale's Frankenstein, much of the film's power is generated by its confounding of analysis, much like in The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Nosferatu.  Later, White writes that although many films since have attempted to duplicate these well-known films in terms of the appearance of characters and the style of sets, duplicating these elements alone does not suggest what gives films like Frankenstein or Caligari its power.
    White argues that the two most popular subjects in all films tend to be love and death, which are often linked.  The horror film tends to display violent death and bizarre love, and plays upon our fear of death.  Audiences not only tolerate this, but also seek out and enjoy horror films.  Fear of the unknown also plays a major role in the horror genre.  In addition, in films like Whale's Frankenstein, the monsters are typically male.  Not only are they male, but their threat is often sexual.  The villagers fear a child molester more than they do a murderer.  Lastly, White argues for a less obvious fear found in horror films - that of rejection and alienation.  This is clearly present in Whale's Frankenstein, and even more so in Mary Shelley's novel.
    A successful horror film, White argues, forces viewers to suspend their reliance on a conventional frame of reference of normal life.  Instead, viewers are forced to function on the terms dictated by the film itself.  The audience leaves real world facts outside the theater temporarily, accepting the film's propositions.  In the end, horror is not an exotic emotion, but rather one that arises out of the common fears of everyday life.  Overall, the article serves as a useful analysis of the components of horror films, and an interesting evaluation of the Frankenstein series.  White's criticism is well argued and effective, and also thought provoking.

Sharrett, Christopher.  "Haunted by 20th-Century Monsters - two motion pictures offer insights into 20th century."  Findarticles.com: USA Today (Mar. 1999).  http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1272/is_2646_127/ai_54098993?tag=content;col1. Nov 27, 2008.

    Sharrett discusses the somewhat-fictionalized 1998 film Gods and Monsters, which depicts the last years of Frankenstein (1931) director James Whale.  Sharrett writes that the film follows Whale's life in its last moments, where Whale, a homosexual, fantasizes about a young handyman who becomes his model and near-protégé.  Sharrett claims that the film suggests that Whale is "haunted by memories of the monsters he created for Universal, or rather, by the internal demons these cinematic creatures came to represent for him."
    Sharrett discusses Whale's life as a repressed gay man born into a highly class-conscious 19th century British society, where his vision of the world was shaped by the horrors of World War I, which he fought in himself.  Gods and Monsters suggests that Whale's version of Frankenstein's monster represented his own "permanent estrangement" from not only Hollywood, but from humanity as well.  Whale, in the film, claims he "gave the monster dignity," something not typically present in monster or other horror films.
    Sharrett later discusses the way art may or may not function as a type of catharsis.  He claims that Whale was unable to find reconciliation with himself or the world around him.  In this way, the monster's relation to Whale and his homosexuality becomes apparent.  Sharrett relates Whale's struggles to live happily in a repressive, intolerant society to the monster's own struggle, as evidenced in Mary Shelley's novel as well as in the 1931 Whale film.  Sharrett argues that Gods and Monsters is not just about the difficulties of homosexuality, but can symbolize the experiences of any oppressed group or individual.  He also openly wonders how much of an impact the wars, chaos, and anguish of the early 20th century had on the creation of monsters in film and the horror genre in general.  In this respect, this article is very relevant to the main question.  Not only do James Whale's own life experiences play a role in the development of Frankenstein as an early horror film, but Sharrett also discusses how the wars and chaos of the early 20th century may have affected the entire horror genre, and thus film history and even the industry itself.

Juengel, Scott J.  "Face, Figure, Physiognomics: Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and the Moving Image."  JSTOR: NOVEL: A Forum on Fiction Vol. 33, No. 3 (Summer, 2000), pp. 353-376.  University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008.

    Juengel talks about cinema's fetishization of the face, claiming that the face dominates the visual field, which seals off the viewer from extraneous distractions.  This allows for "an intense manifestation of subjectivity."  He talks about close-up shots, which transform the face into something gigantic and monstrous, leading to an almost overwhelming sensation.
    In James Whale's Frankenstein as well as in the 1935 Whale film Bride of Frankenstein, Juengel writes that the viewer "struggles visually and viscerally with the renunciation of monstrous flesh."  He says that Boris Karloff's countenance provides a site of disparity between face and mask, and between human and monster.  Using close-up shots reveals the unnatural construction of the monster's face, with the stitches, seams, and folds plainly visible to the viewer.  Gazing at Karloff allows the viewer to participate in an endless visual reconstruction of the monstrous body.  He eventually calls the myth of Frankenstein a cautionary tale against this sort of unnatural recreation.
    Later, Juengel calls Whale's monster a filmic icon that attests to the triumph of technology and reproducibility that is "emblematic of the nascent cinema's cultural efficacy and reflective of a tenuous cohesion at the level of the modern body's signification."  For much of the rest of the essay, Juengel does not talk about Karloff's performance as the monster in the James Whale film, but instead analyzes Mary Shelley's original text, discovering what he calls "proto-cinematic techniques" as evidenced by the constant face-to-face "constructions of subjectivity."  He claims that these moments of the novel are visual moments, which are marked by detailed descriptions of the monster's physiognomy.  Thus, these moments function as cinematic close-ups, forcing viewers to confront and acknowledge the face of the monster.
    This article is interesting in that it focuses on one of the interesting aspects that cinema provides to a viewer, which is the fetishization of the face.  The make-up and costume work done in James Whale's film is very specific and intentional, making Mary Shelley's monster into a creature fairly different than described in her novel.  It is interesting to see how Whale uses close-up shots and a very specific framing strategy in order to capture the novel's face-to-face encounters, and allow the audience to react in a way that Victor himself reacts in the novel.   Many of these techniques and art design strategies would be heavily imitated in future science fiction and horror films, making Whale's film an important predecessor to the genres.  Juengel's discussion of the cinematic moments in Shelley's text is also particularly interesting, arguing that Shelley's novel is essentially structured for a certain type of cinematic approach, which one can argue Whale effectively achieved in certain respects.

Johnson, William. "Orson Welles: Of Time and Loss." Film Quarterly (Autumn, 1967). JSTOR. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008.<ttp://proxy.library.upenn.edu:2097/stable/1211027?&Search=yes&term=citizen&term=welles&term=orson&term=kane&term=toland&term=gregg&list=hide&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoAdvancedSearch%3Fq0%3Dcitizen%2Bkane;f0%3Dall;c0%3DAND;q1%3Dorson%2Bwelles;f1%3Dall;c1%3DOR;q2%3Dgregg%2Btoland%2B;f2%3Dall;c2%3DAND;q3%3D;f3%3Dall;wc%3Don;Search%3DSearch;sd%3D;ed%3D;la%3D;jo%3D&item=7&ttl=571&returnArticleService=showArticle>.

   In his article, Orson Welles: Of Time and Loss, William Johnson evaluates the major works of Orson Welles, stating that Welles' "films are a triumph of show over substance. His most memorable images seem like elephantine labors to bring forth mouse-size ideas" (14). Citing examples from Falstaff, Lady from Shanghai, Touch of Evil, The Trial, Arkadin, Stranger, Magnificent Ambersons, and Othello, Johnson points out that the success of each of Welles' films has depended upon his ability to balance a multitude of opposites - juxtaposing sophistication against simplicity, realism with expressionism, introversion and extroversion, and clarity with confusion to render Welles' style not easy to generalize (24).
     Johnson contends that Welles' treatment of the age-old theme of lost innocence in Citizen Kane earned this film its reputation for innovation. At the relatively young age of 25, Welles' primary achievement in Citizen Kane was the full development of techniques which married narrative structure with cinematographic style to a depth not previously seen. Employing wide-angle perspective, long takes, sudden cuts, complex leaps in chronology, short vignettes, and other techniques, Welles balances all manner of opposites to explore the private and public persona of the character, Kane (14). The narrative structure superimposes a reporter's investigation into Rosebud over flashbacks depicting the recollections of Kane's acquaintances. In this manner, Welles takes the viewer from Kane's end to his beginning, with leaps in time throughout the film (19). Told from seven different perspectives, i.e. five interviewees, a reporter, and the "God's-eye-view," Welles combines opposites and contradictions to reveal Kane's story. In successive scenes, Welles shifts from stillness to movement, from silence to loud noise, from darkness to light, all of which makes the entire film look and sound quite modern decades after it was shot (14, 19).

Naremore, James. Magic world of Orson Welles. New York: Oxford University Press, 1978. 65-101.
    James Naremore’s chapter on Citizen Kane in his book The Magic World of Orson Welles, discusses the question of authorship in Citizen Kane and leads the reader in a scene by scene description and analysis of the film. This analysis discusses many aspects of the film including but not limited to: themes, stylistic technique, camera movement, political bent, relationship to Hearst’s life, and psychological components of characters. Naremore’s chapter concludes with a quick description of the reactions of Hollywood, Hearst and Welles to the release of Citizen Kane.
     In his analysis, Naremore explains how camera movements in Citizen Kane create a voyeuristic stylistic motif. In numerous scenes, the camera moves in towards the action and then is thwarted by an object, often a door, wall or window, which blocks the shot. The shot then features a dissolve following which the camera is able to move in closer towards the action. This persistent camera movement through tangible obstacles reflects the camera’s main function as “ a restless, ghostly observer” which seeks to probe into the private life of Kane while the obstacles function to disturb the audience’s curiosity and constantly remind them that they are watching a film. Welles constant reminders to the audience, that they are watching a movie serves to establish a second layer of doubt, than that already seeded by the plot of Citizen Kane, upon the truthfulness of all reporting and media. The voyeuristic stylistic motif is enhanced by the wide angle, deep focus cinematography. As Kane becomes increasingly isolated, wide-angle deep focus shots appears more frequently to create a feeling of separation from Kane in the audience. Even when there are no tangible obstacles in the way of the camera, the camera’s initial inquisitiveness seems trumped by the vast expanses depicted in many of the later shots between Kane and others at Xanadu. The deep focus shots in Citizen Kane also serve to give a gaudy and sensational view of Kane’s private life by allowing the viewer to see many layers of action in each shot in a highly voyeuristic manner. Naremore also discusses how Citizen Kane can be seen as a partial autobiography of Orson Welles. Evidently, Welles’ focus on Kane’s infantile anger is modeled after his own reputation as an “enfant terrible.” Additionally, Kane was raised by a guardian and modeled the character of Raymond after his own butler. The parallels between the story of Kane and his own life allowed Welles to focus the story on the psychology of Kane and less on Kane’s politics and newspaper empire.

Carringer, Robert L. Making of Citizen Kane / Robert L. Carringer.  Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996. 16-35.

       In his book The Making of Citizen Kane, Robert Carringer dedicates one chapter to the history of the scripting of the film. Carringer explains why Herman Mankiewicz was hired as the screenwriter and how he did most of his writing away from Hollywood with John Houseman because both he and Welles feared repression from William Randolph Hearst. Mankiewicz and Houseman's first script was called American and featured Kane as an unconsolidated collage of Hearst. After producing a second draft, Mankiewicz had to leave to work on a project at MGM and from this point onward no longer had a large impact on the development on the script. According to Carringer, at this point the script was still just a "string of discrete events lifted from a colorful biography"(25). When Welles took over the script, he revised over half of it creating the fully developed, alluring Kane from Mankiewicz's flat character. However, once Welles had to deal with budgetary issues, Mankiewicz returned to assist Welles in editing down the script albeit with a lesser creative influence. Carringer concludes this chapter with a discussion of the legal and political controversy surrounding the authorship of Citizen Kane between Welles and Mankiewicz.
     It seems that, despite his best efforts to take sole credit for the screenwriting of Citizen Kane, Orson Welles is very much indebted Herman Mankiewicz for the strength of Citizen Kane's narrative structure. In writing the first two drafts of the script, Mankiewicz provided the film with its prismatic narrative backbone, basic characters, and the bulk of the dialogue. Even his ideas for the beginning and final scenes remained relatively unchanged throughout the editing process. However, Citizen Kane would not have been remembered if it only had a solid script. At this juncture, it was Orson Welles who gave the film the ingenuity it needed to be remembered as a pioneering classic. Welles brought sophisticated humor and stylistic smoothness to the film through various sequences of montage. Most importantly, Welles brought his own personal genius to invigorate the character of Kane as infinitely and inconclusively multi-faceted man through the narrative structure and his acting.

McGinty, Sarah Myers. "Deconstructing Citizen Kane." The English Journal. (Jan 1987). JSTOR. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 29 Nov. 2009.  .

    In Sarah Myers McGinty's article, she introduces Citizen Kane as a perfect text for explaining post-modern critical theories to high school students. McGinty explains that the film has a superficial, conventional meaning that most high school students will understand upon first viewing as well as a deeper, deconstructive meaning. McGinty shows that the central message of Citizen Kane is inherently deconstructionist as it is caught between two extremes: solving the mystery of Rosebud and a consistent destabilization of the viewer's search for Rosebud through each narrator's viewpoint. McGinty elucidates and analyses the views of Kane held by each of the film's five narrators but determines that each view "is mutually exclusive...[forcing] the viewer...to create his...own reading of the film's indeterminacies" (49). McGinty concludes her article with a short discussion of the use of language in the film.
    The film's narrative structure, according to McGinty, provides no solid core of truth but inherently deconstructs itself as it presents a story of a quest for knowledge and then ultimately refuses the viewer that knowledge. From the opening shot and second to last shot of the Citizen Kane, the film literally runs in circles. Looking at the "No Trespassing" sign on Xanadu's gates at both the beginning and ending of the film, the viewer must accept that Citizen Kane "deconstructs its own...explanations" and because of the plot structure of conflicting and fragmented narratives, meaning can and must be individually created by each of the film's viewers.

Carringer, Robert L. "Orson Welles and Gregg Toland: Their Collaboration on Citizen Kane." Critical Inquiry (Summer, 1982). JSTOR. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008. .

    In Carringer's article, he divides his main topics into three sections. In the first section, he illuminates the working relationship between Orson Welles and Gregg Toland explaining both of their personalities. Carringer also explains in this section the initial problems Orson Welles had with the script and getting the budget approved by RKO. However, despite RKO's lack of enthusiasm for the project and its budget, Carringer cites that Welles and Toland proceeded to shoot for three days what would be some of the most radical scenes of the film. In the article's second section, Carringer discusses Toland's photographic style and with examples of how he had developed it from previous films. Carringer also introduces the numerous advances in technology that were used in Citizen Kane, many of which were invented by Toland. In the final section of the article, Carringer explains how Citizen Kane was finished without Toland and how despite many nominations for Oscars; Citizen Kane received only one because Hollywood thought it was too experimental. Carringer concludes with a short synopsis of Toland's later projects and a description of how Citizen Kane did and didn't influence future films. 
     Before coming to film Citizen Kane, Gregg Toland had generated a visual style from his prior projects that rebelled against the conventions of Hollywood studio filmmaking. As evidence of this, Toland brought his own equipment to RKO to use in the filming of Citizen Kane because he had specially modified much of his equipment to better accomplish his style and because most major studios did not have his unique camera and lenses. Toland's style in Citizen Kane can be seen as a maturation of his previous work and according to Carringer consists of: "deep focus cinematography, long takes, the avoidance of conventional intercutting through such devices as multi-plane compositions and camera movement, elaborate camera choreography, lighting which produces a high contrast tonality, UFA style expressionism in certain scenes, low angle camera set ups, and an array of striking visual devices such as composite dissolves, extreme deep focus effects and shooting directly into lights" (658). Many of these techniques were not in common practice in Hollywood and were able to be successfully accomplished only because of recent technical advances and Toland's own ingenuity. Technological advances of the time consisted of: new, silent, stronger arc lamps, Eastman Kodak Super XX film stock, which was "four times faster than the previous Super X stock", a new technique of coating the camera lens with magnesium fluoride to improve light transmission, "new low grain stock for release prints", and the self blimped Mitchell BNC camera with a built in noise-dampening device (659-61). Toland's own inventions consisted of: muslin ceilings on sets to allow shooting and lighting from below, a waterhouse stop in place of a regular sliding aperture in the camera lens to remove the halo effect caused by shooting directly into a light source, a diminishing glass to produce the fish eye effect achieved in the shot of the nurse entering Kane's room upon his death, a four part in camera dissolve as a thematic transitional motif, and in camera mattes to achieve what appear to be incredible deep focus shots.

 

Carringer, Robert L. "Rosebud, Dead or Alive: Narrative and Symbolic Structure in Citizen Kane." PMLA (Mar. 1976). JSTOR. University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. 29 Nov. 2008. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/461506>.

     In his article, Robert Carringer explores how Citizen Kane's modern narrative structure and film's symbolism are inextricably intertwined. Carringer argues against a simple psychological reading of Rosebud as representative of Kane's lost childhood. Carringer explains that the narrative structure of Citizen Kane is in keeping with a "predominant form of organization in modern narrative" in which there are multiple accounts of one subject, none of which are definitive or wholly reliable (185). He warns the viewer that if one were to see Rosebud in this light, one would undercut the entire reasoning behind Welles' multiple point of view narrative. Instead, Carringer urges the viewer to look at the film's symbolic sequences to find elucidations of the conflicting narrative and the film's overarching message.
      According to Carringer, the snow globe that first appears next to Kane's deathbed is Citizen Kane's central symbol and not Rosebud. More representative of Kane than Rosebud the sled, the snow globe represents the whole Kane, which upon his death shatters into the multifaceted opinions of those who loved and hated him. The shattering of the snow globe becomes symbolic of both Thompson and the viewer's quest in the film: to determine if Kane can ever be understood entirely by examining each of the fragments of his life. In this light, the entire film is encompassed in the symbolic meaning of the snow globe. Yet, the symbol of Rosebud also serves an equally important narrative purpose. In one light, Rosebud serves as the oil that greases the wheels of the plot between each narrator's flashback and "a mechanism for...exploring attitudes and points of view" (192). Rosebud as the burning sled on the other hand serves as a anti-conclusion to the film and forces the viewer to see the importance of the film's narrative structure in the search for meaning in Citizen Kane. Rosebud serves as a "red herring" whose hidden identity fuels the plot. Each exploration of Rosebud serves to elucidate the symbol, which provides a semi-conclusive answer on the identity of Kane, the snow globe, and at the same time to "develop a more fundamental meaning...that there are parts of Kane that are knowable and others that will always remain beyond our interpretation" (192).

Nagl, Manfred.  "The Science-Fiction Film in Historical Perspective." JSTOR: Science Fiction Studies Vol. 10, No. 3 (Nov., 1983), pp. 262-277.  University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008.

    Nagl calls the science fiction film the second oldest extraliterary medium, but also the most widespread and popular of all science fiction vehicles, particularly in Japan and the West.  He calls the science fiction boom of the 1970's an outcome of new production and marketing strategies, and the boom of the 1950's he credits as an expression of political anxieties and technological developments.  Overall, he writes that the science fiction film "should be recognized as the bearer of conservative and irrational ideologies."
    Later, Nagl lists the characteristics of science fiction, which include strong stereotyping, few themes, basic models, and even blatant plagiarism.  He claims that the genre is closer to comic books than to traditional literature.  Film denies viewers the imagination of the fantastic, and instead condemns itself "to visualization and thus to banalization."  He discusses the inevitable overlap of science fiction, horror, and fantasy genres, claiming that many titles fall under more than one category.
    In terms of history, Nagl traces the science fiction film back to the work of Georges Melies.  He discusses Germany's contribution to science fiction in the early 20th century, when Germany's Ufa was Hollywood's only major rival.  In particular, Nagl talks about "Caligarism" and the expressionism of German cinema, which influenced the horror variant of the science fiction genre.  Fritz Lang he credits as influencing the rise of technological-futuristic based films with works like Metropolis.
    With regards to Frankenstein and the primary question, this article is useful in several ways.  Nagl discusses the overlap of the science fiction and horror genres, with the James Whale film certainly fitting into both categories in many respects.  In his discussion of science fiction literature, Nagl states that in terms of critical reception, science fiction film neither derives nor measures up to science fiction literature.  Critics, he writes, label the science fiction film as a popular and therefore less well-developed form of science fiction.  This can clearly be seen in Frankenstein, which certainly removes many of the important elements from Mary Shelley's novel in order to achieve its desired effects and audience responses.  The film, unlike the novel, leaves little to imagination, forcing the viewer to confront the visual monstrosity of the creature, whereas the novel provides very few details of the monster's appearance.  Nagl writes that science fiction films rarely offer new points of view, instead transferring the simplest definitions of science fiction and relying on stereotypes and simple themes.

Heffernan, James A.W..  "Looking at the Monster:  Frankenstein and Film."  JSTOR: Critical Inquiry Vol. 24, No. 1 (Autumn, 1997), pp. 133-158.  University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008.

   Heffernan argues that films such as 1931's Frankenstein and other film versions of Frankenstein receive so little attention from academic critics of the novel because of the "visuality of cinema."  He writes that film versions of Frankenstein show viewers less of the monster's inner life that the novel does.  In James Whale's 1931 film, the monster, unlike in the novel, is totally silenced, forcing it to make gestures and expressions in order to communicate.  Thus, the monster's story is severely altered and shortened.  Heffernan argues that filmmakers, Whale included, regularly rip out the heart of Mary Shelley's novel by making the monster speechless or reducing his narrative.  Viewers are forced to confront the monster's physical repulsiveness, whereas in Mary Shelley's novel there are only sparse details of the monster's appearance.  As readers, our "blindness to his appearance is precisely what enables us to see his invisible nobility."  Heffernan even argues that any faithful recreation of the novel's central narrative would never even show the monster at all, and instead only the sound of his voice and the images of what he perceives.  Yet, filmmakers constantly objectify the creature using Shelley's brief descriptions, or making their own interpretations based on previous recreations of the monster on stage, in paintings, or on screen.
      Whale's 1931 film, for example, invented the monster's stitching among other changes.  Jack Pierce's makeup for Boris Karloff in the Whale film reminds viewers that the creature was a "patchwork quilt of flesh cut from dead bodies," and a "paradoxically ugly composite of features."  Another significant departure from Shelley's novel is the additional of the abnormal, criminal brain to the monster's makeup, a decision that seems to indicate that the inner nature of the creature will be wicked and monstrous, thus making its later actions appear to be a result of that inner nature.  Heffernan does argue, however, that the monster is not unequivocally ugly, and does earn some sympathy from viewers.
    Ultimately, Heffernan claims that film versions of Frankenstein "violate the tacit compact made between novel and reader" by showing readers exactly what the novel hides.  While the monster in Whale's film has captivated millions, resulting in his image being reproduced and disseminated everywhere, there is a fundamental and vast difference between the "impact of his picture on a viewing audience and the repulsiveness of the figure it represents as seen by those around him."  The article is interesting in its comparison of novels and films, analyzing what makes each effective or ineffective.  His discussion of Frankenstein's translation to screen is particularly interesting because he argues that the sight of the monster itself, arguably what makes the James Whale film a product of the horror genre, is precisely the opposite of what the novel intends and what makes the novel so frightening.

Leff, Leonard J. "Reading Kane." Film Quarterly (Autumn, 1985). JSTOR. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Dec. 2008. <http://proxy.library.upenn.edu:2097/stable/1212276?&Search=yes&term=citizen&term=welles&term=orson&term=kane&term=toland&term=gregg&list=hide&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoAdvancedSearch%3Fq0%3Dcitizen%2Bkane;f0%3Dall;c0%3DAND;q1%3Dorson%2Bwelles;f1%3Dall;c1%3DOR;q2%3Dgregg%2Btoland%2B;f2%3Dall;c2%3DAND;q3%3D;f3%3Dall;wc%3Don;Search%3DSearch;sd%3D;ed%3D;la%3D;jo%3D&item=10&ttl=571&returnArticleService=showArticle>.

    In Leff’s article “Reading Kane,” he explores the past explanations of the relationship between the cinematography and narrative structure in Citizen Kane. Leff also provides the reader with a method in which a viewer can use his reaction to Citizen Kane to establish an understanding of the film even while suffering through Citizen Kane’s “unfulfilled assumptions” and thwarted clear-cut conclusions (20). Leff chooses Thatcher’s flashback his main example and successfully applies his method in great detail. Leff concludes with a discussion of the unsatisfying, anti-climatic, and intellectual roller coaster like qualities of the film's final sequence and how these feelings established in the final shots are even carried over into the credits and its soundtrack.
    Leff suggests in his article that like Thompson in his navigation of life after Kane, the viewer must also take an active role in the creation of meaning in Citizen Kane due to its frustratingly fragmented and contradictory narrative. Leff proposes that the viewer can find meaning by carefully analyzing each shift in point of view in the narrative and by using those points of inconsistency to establish his own understanding. This way of approaching the film seems highly appropriate if one accepts Leff’s interpretation of the one conclusion provided in the film. In the last sequence of the film, the viewer does learn what “Rosebud” is and gains what Leff describes as “a long delayed pleasure that [the viewer] assumed, especially given the film’s lack of convention, would be denied…” (19). And yet, this sense of closure is utterly false and leaves the viewer no closer to truly understanding Kane than at the beginning of the film. Thus, according to Leff, Welles’ chosen ending seems to imply that the viewer should not automatically accept the film’s supplied connections and conclusions as the ultimate understanding of the film, but should try to create meaning through a method such as Leff’s.

Mulvey, Laura. Citizen Kane. London: BFI Publishing, 1992. 9-77.

    In Laura Mulvey’s book Citizen Kane, she adds a European perspective to the film by analyzing it based upon the momentous time in history during which it was made. Mulvey views Citizen Kane as a warning to America of the likelihood of an unfavorable outcome should America continue its isolationist policies into World War II. Mulvey includes her own personal critique on the themes, symbolism and both the visual and narrative style of the film. In addition, Mulvey adds a thorough analysis of the narrative from both a Freudian psychoanalytic and feminist point of view.  Mulvey explores the politics surrounding the making of Citizen Kane including a discussion of the film’s authorship and William Randolph Hearst’s crusade against the film. Mulvey’s short book is not divided into sections or chapters as she eloquently weaves each of these elements of analysis fluidly into her writing. Because of Mulvey’s lack of clearly defined divisions of topic in her book, I have chosen to cite her entire work while only discussing specific points which are relevant to my thesis despite their being spread throughout her book.
     Mulvey discusses the narrative structure of Citizen Kane in great depth describing it as "prismatic," focusing on symbolism, repetition and symmetry to create stability and fluidity. The narrative is structured through five sections of flashbacks, each told from a different character’s point of view, all encompassed by a frame story. The frame story features a reporter, Thompson, who is attempting to put together the pieces of Kane’s private life after his death and does this for the audience and himself through each character's memories of Kane. These flashbacks, while having their own overlaps and discontinuities, comprise the majority of the film. Mulvey points out that each flashback is highly variable and contradictory in its portrayal of Kane and enhances the fragmentation of the narrative. Thus, despite the bulk of information they provide, the characters in Citizen Kane do not give a reliable means of understanding Kane to the viewer. What Mulvey points out that the characters’ inconsistencies make it so that no one view of Kane can be relied on as definitive. Yet, Mulvey believes that because it is our popular cultural tradition, the viewer cannot help but try to judge Kane as either clearly the hero or villain of the story. However, the film’s narrative structure ensures that this goal is consistently thwarted, something not generally done in a classical Hollywood film.

Arnold, Gary. "'Best Years' shows best of Toland; Cinematographer known for deep focus." The Washington Times. Final Edition (21 May 2004). Lexis Nexis Academic. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008. .

    Arnold's article outlines Gregg Toland's Hollywood career, which comprised most of his life, on the anniversary of his centennial, specifically pointing out the projects in which Toland’s developed style is most visible. Also, Arnold describes Toland’s rise through the Hollywood ranks from a mere office boy to a renowned cinematographer and explains the deep focus style that Toland is so famous for mastering.

Even before his work on Citizen Kane, Gregg Toland had spent nine years as a cinematographer, building up his own experience, crew and cache of equipment that he knew he could best use to achieve his deep focus style. Toland’s deep focus style kept everything in the shot in sharp focus with actors balanced geometrically but able to move throughout the planes. In the shooting of Citizen Kane, Toland used new technology in creative ways and reinvented established technology for his distinct purposes. The customized equipment Toland used in the shooting of Citizen Kane consisted of a Mitchell BNC camera, Eastman Kodak Super XX stock, and a 24mm wide-angle lens. Toland chose the Mitchell BNC camera because it was more lightweight than most cameras used during the 1930’s, allowing him a greater freedom of movement in his shots. The 24mm wide-angle lens Toland used he had restructured for aperture reductions which enabled him to carefully customize the f-stop. Finally, Toland used broadside arcs, invented to increase the light available for color exposure, for a different purpose: to sharpen the focus in the furthest and darkest planes of his black and white shots in Citizen Kane.

Harpole, Charles H. " Ideological and Technological Determinism in Deep Space Cinema Images: Issues in Ideology, Technological History and Aesthetics."Film Quarterly (Spring, 1980). JSTOR. University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008. .
      In this article, Charles Harpole outlines two conflicting critical views of the purpose of deep focus cinematography, which arose after 1940. He explains that according to the Bazinian theory, deep space illusions are created in films to provide realism to images and are technologically important because they require so much in the way of devices to produce them successfully. He describes Comolli’s opposing materialist viewpoint as such: deep space effects are important in film because they “indicate the extent to which an ideological way of representation is embedded in a mass medium.” Harpole elaborates that while other critics have described a lack of deep focus cinematography between 1925 and 1940 due to the limitations caused by sound technology, panochromatic film stock and the increase in narrative focus, he believes that deep space cinema composition has always been present, just in varied forms. He outlines stages of the development of deep focus cinematography. Harpole states that between 1895 and 1914, films lacked zoning and artificial lighting, and that many films focused on much “exterior shooting, high detail, and hard focus” to create a great depth of field. In the second time period, from 1914-1919, Harpole recognizes a “deployment of depth of space in simultaneous interior and exterior spaces, in extensive and complex linear perspective and in narratively important to and fro movement of people through spaces.” From 1919-1929 films focused on refining the mise en scene and used some zoned lighting, back and forth movement, and a mixture of shots, which greatly varied in their depth of field and focus. Between 1929-1940, cinematographers made use of complex lighting zones and began to have multiple planes of interaction within the space of a single frame. This period also witnessed greater camera movement, which explored and revealed increasing depth of space. Thus, Harpole concludes that Citizen Kane was not revolutionary in its style, but rather was the result of a long evolution of deep space cinematography beginning in the late 1800’s.
     Harpole explores two different subjects in his article both of which are highly relevant to my thesis: the effect of depth of space cinematography on the filmic images and Gregg Toland’s past cinematographic experience. Harpole explains that the wide-angle lens used to convey depth of space causes images to appear stretched, which places an emphasis on proportional and linear perspective, which is sometimes used to create juxtaposition and irony within a frame. However, when the wide-angle lens is used with uniform focus, emphasis is removed from any one single figure and the viewer is subconsciously instructed view the mise en scene as a single important image. Citizen Kane utilizes both types of shots for those purposes. Secondly, according to Harpole, Toland worked on many films that explored shots with great depth of field between 1929 and 1941, the period of time in which most critics believe there to be an absence of depth in cinematograhy. Harpole recognizes Toland’s shooting in Bulldog Drummond, to shows the beginnings of the progression towards the refinement of deep focus images in Citizen Kane. Harpole cites that Toland worked on twelve films during this time all of which he considers stylistic forerunners of Citizen Kane. Thus, it seems that the deep focus style of Citizen Kane was gradually explored and developed by Toland throughout his prior projects.

Harrington, Curtis.  "Ghoulies and Ghosties."  JSTOR: The Quarterly of Film Radio and Television Vol. 7, No. 2 (Winter, 1952), pp. 191-202.  University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008.

    Harrington discusses the early creators and innovators of cinema, who discovered the ability of the camera to present supernatural phenomena and hallucinatory images.  One of those early innovators, Georges Melies, created films with fairies, ghosts, and magicians.  However, for the most part cinema has been primarily used as a means of constructing "earth-bound reality."  Few fantasy films were attempted up until the time of Harrington's article (1952) due to their most likely financial failure.  Ultimately, Harrington argues that the camera magic of Melies and others like him was simply too obvious to viewers, reminding them of the mechanical nature of cinema.  He also writes about 1910's and 20's cinema.  Most often it was the Germans, in films such as The Golem, Chronicles of the Grieshuus, and Siegfried, who would take on the ideas mysticism and of the supernatural.  It was also the Germans who would produce the first film version of Bram Stoker's vampire story, Dracula.  Also, in F.W. Murnau's Noseferatu, Murnau used sped-up action, double exposures, and other techniques to portray the supernatural, techniques that would later be imitated by hundreds of filmmakers working in the horror and science fiction genres.
    Harrington argues that the arrival of sound would help develop and establish the fantastic horror genre in America.  Sound, along with the stock market crash of 1929, would lead the horror film to become a staple Hollywood commodity.  James Whale's 1931 film Frankenstein would be one of the defining films to help launch the fantastic horror genre.  Harrington writes that Whale, a British stage director imported to America, brought to his films "a fine sense of Gothic terror in the English tradition," as well as "an irascible though perhaps less evident sense of humor."  By 1939 however, the horror film had virtually disappeared, but would reappear during the World War II years.  Harrington argues that the films made during the war years by Universal, the studio that had been considered to be the home of the horror film due to the success of films like Frankenstein, would be ridiculous, formulaic, and lifeless.  After the war ended, the popularity of horror films declined drastically.  Harrington writes that we have seen too much of the monster in Frankenstein in subsequent horror films, all serving as poor imitations to Boris Karloff's creation in the 1931 James Whale film.  He writes of his disappointment that filmmakers haven't been able to think up something different in so many years.
    This article is interesting and relevant to the question at hand for several reasons.  Harrington's discussion of early cinema and special effects reveals some of the complications of the medium, but also its vast potential to portray the supernatural and mystic.  With Whale's Frankenstein, Harrington discusses the arrival of sound and its importance in making Frankenstein a staple commodity of the horror genre.  Interestingly, Harrington is very critical of the formulaic and lifeless nature of the horror genre in films that would follow Whale's film, which he blames for the genre's subsequent decline. 

Carroll, Noel.  "Nightmare and the Horror Film: The Symbolic Biology of Fantastic Beings." JSTOR: Film Quarterly Vol. 34, No. 3 (Spring, 1981), pp. 16-25.  University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008.

    Carroll's 1981 article credits horror and science fiction as the most popular film genres of the late 1970's and early 80's, with blockbusters such as The Exorcist and Jaws.  He calls the genre's popularity as unstoppable as some of demons and monsters its films depict.  He writes about the late seventies, early eighties cycle of science fiction and horror, claiming that the films contain feelings of paralysis, helplessness, and vulnerability.  Horror and science fiction films express a sense of powerlessness and anxiety related to the times of "depression, recession, Cold War strife, galloping inflation, and national confusion."  The purpose of his article, simply, is to analyze and examine the structures and themes of this cycle of the genres.  He states that a good subtitle for this article would be, "How to make a monster."
    While Carroll calls himself a connoisseur of science fiction literature, in terms of film he writes that science fiction has evolved as a sub-class of the horror film.  In other words, science fiction films tend to be monster films "rather than explorations of grand themes like alternate societies or alternate technologies."  His approach is a psychoanalytic one, using psychoanalysis as an interpretive tool.  He argues that psychoanalysis is extremely relevant to the horror genre in terms of the genre's themes of repressed sexuality, necrophilia, etc.  He ties the horror genre to nightmares and dreams, claiming that many horror stories originated as dreams or nightmares.
    In terms of stories caused by nightmares or modeled on dreams, Carroll lists Mary Shelly's Frankenstein, as well as Bram Stoker's Dracula and Henry James's "The Jolly Corner."  He writes that these stories are often attributed to fitful sleep, much like Robert Louis Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  With Frankenstein, Carroll calls the monster a "fusion figure," and a composite.  He writes that Mary Shelley first dreamed of the creature at a time in her life fraught with tragedies connected with childbirth.  Shelley's description of the creature's appearance even resembles that of a newborn in terms of the skin and head.
    Later, Carroll discusses James Whale's Frankenstein, which he claims emphasizes the association of the monster with a child.  Whale deliberately has the monster walk unsteadily and awkwardly.  In terms of appearance, the monster's head is oversized and its eyes are sleepy.  Unlike in the novel, the monster in the film is even more like a newborn due to its lack of speech and rudimentary cognitive skills.  In many ways the monster is a child, made of waste and filth.  Carroll suggests that the monster's rejection by society relates to Shelley's feelings of rejection by her father, William Godwin.
   Carroll's article is extremely relevant to the question due to his analysis of the themes and structures of the horror genre, as well as the sources of inspiration behind stories like Frankenstein and others.  His argument of science-fiction evolving as a sub-class of the horror genre is particularly interesting, and there is evidence to support his claim found throughout these articles on Frankenstein and both science-fiction and horror.

Spadoni, Robert.  "The Uncanny Body of Early Sound Film."  Project Muse: The Velvet Light Trap 51 (2003) 4-16.  University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008.

Spadoni discusses how the first synchronized sound films were widely considered by critics to be a drastic leap forward in terms of cinematic realism.  Synchronized sound allowed actors to appear more lifelike and three-dimensional, and ultimately more present.  In addition to these benefits, Spadoni argues that sound films helped emphasize the various uncanny qualities of cinema, resulting in a ghost-like visual quality.  He argues that this attribute influenced film production in the early years of the transition to sound.     Spadoni references critic Alexander Bakshy, who believed the success of the talkies was due to the warmth and intimacy that the presence of human voice provided - something clearly absent during the silent era.  However, Bakshy writes, the "personal magnetism of the actor has lost its force" in the talking pictures, mainly due to the viewer's awareness of the mechanical nature of cinema as well as film's reliance on stage techniques and sources.
    Spadoni discusses Sigmund Freud's theories on the uncanny in order to argue for the uncanny body effect of early sound film.  Specifically, Freud's discussion of inanimate objects that temporarily appear to be alive, and animate objects that temporarily to appear to not be alive.  He also discusses the uncanny in terms of the "unheimlich," a term that describes anything that ought to have remained secret and hidden but has come to light.  Spadoni argues that early sound film marked a return of the repressed, early film era.  The mechanical nature of early cinema and viewer sensitivity to that nature returned, disturbing audiences again until they could adjust to the new technology.  
    Lastly, Spadoni argues that the coming of sound provoked effects that brought to mind various uncanny sensations that other electronic media have historically provoked, creating a perception of unearthly presences.  For example, Spadoni writes that wireless radio enthusiasts would claim that they could pick up communications from the dead in a hissing sound.  With sound films, some of these beliefs resurfaced.  Spadoni quotes Frankenstein director James Whale, who also relates the hissing of a radio to the presence of ghosts or monsters.  Universal Pictures would take advantage of this attitude, bringing an adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula to the screen in 1931.  Later that year, Universal would make a horror film out of an adaptation of Frankenstein, which used cut-ins and extreme close-ups to frighten viewers.  Spadoni asks whether films like Frankenstein were reactivating and codifying viewers' fast-receding emotional memory of the uncanny bodies of the transition cinema." He argues that the coming of sound influenced the development of the horror film as a major genre in American cinema, especially in early films such as Frankenstein.  In this respect, this article is extremely useful in that it reveals the importance of sound for not only Whale's Frankenstein, but also for the future of horror and science fiction films and the film industry as a whole.

Samuelson, David N.  "Frankenstein Unwound."  JSTOR: Science Fiction Studies Vol. 26, No. 3 (Nov., 1999), pp. 487-492.  University of Pennsylvania Library, Philadelphia. 27 Nov. 2008

    In this review of two volumes of cultural criticism, Frankenstein's Footsteps and Screams of Reason, David Samuelson discusses the propagation of the Frankenstein myth over two centuries of popular culture, the topic of this cultural criticism.  Although Samuelson focuses mostly on Mary Shelley's novel, he later mentions several Frankenstein films including the James Whale 1931 film.  He begins by noting Shelley's foresight, and in particular her fear of Western scientists ignoring the consequences of their quest for knowledge.  Her novel, he argues, serves as a cautionary tale that has become very widespread.  In literature, film, and beyond, elements can be seen taken directly from her novel, especially allusions to Shelley's creatures, both scientist and monster.  Samuelson talks about the modern day fear of genetic engineering and biological research, relating it back to Shelley's novel.
    Samuelson notes how Victor Frankenstein, in Shelley's novel, is a forward-looking biological researcher.  He dismisses magic and superstition.  Thus, the novel is more of a creation myth "based on science as a substitute for God, a surprisingly realistic composite picture of contemporary science, and a refracted image of the dark side of science."  He notes that the novel saw many reprintings during Shelley's lifetime, including several theatrical stagings.  After Shelley's death, James Whale's 1931 adaptation helped turned the Frankenstein story into big business.  Samuelson does say that although the film and other remakes did not particularly respect the artistic integrity of the novel, they did manage to maintain certain elements of science and the quest for creation.  Even remakes like Mel Brooks's spoof Young Frankenstein maintained this theme as well.
    Later, Samuelson discusses the idea of a "Biological Revolution" that began in the 1960's, when molecular testing became possible, and after the structure of DNA was unraveled.  This would lead to genetic engineering, developments in organ transplants, and other innovations.  He mentions Gordon Rattray Taylor's 1968 non-fiction book, The Biological Time-Bomb, which highlighted fears of the loss of control over one's body and the "dissolution of the traditional human image."  Later, the birth of the first test-tube baby in 1978 led to more widespread acceptance of this new technology after the baby appeared to be normal.  With regards to the Frankenstein myth, both of the novel and of the films, DNA experiments turned the debate from a moral argument to a technical argument, pushing the Frankenstein argument further away.  He argues that more educated audiences are more accepting of modern technology, and that the Frankenstein fears have shifted into fields of artificial life and the cyborg.
    This article is interesting and relevant to the question because of Samuelson's discussion of Mary Shelley's fear of the never-ending quest for knowledge and the dangers of science, themes that would become very emblematic of the horror and science fiction genres.  These themes would be even more apparent in films like Whale's Frankenstein, as well many others others in the same genre that would follow for several decades.

In "With a Crooked Stick", J. Ronald Green pursues this seeming contradiction in a detailed analysis of each of Micheaux's 15 surviving films. He presents critical commentary on each film's plot and action and its contribution to the overall theme of uplift. Green clearly establishes Micheaux's unrelenting critique of white supremacism and black complicity, his strong and original style, and his promotion of moderation, independence, and ethical integrity for class uplift. Readers will find this an invaluable guide to the preoccupations and features of Micheaux's remarkable career and the insight it provides into the African American experience of the 1920s and 30s.

In this book, the most relevant chapter for the topic would be the second chapter, which focuses on the movie. First he goes through the plot, characters, and the central action of the film. Then he talks about the most important themes of the movie, which would be overcoming oppression, class distinctions, race, and race in relation to class. Then he has a section on the style of the film, and also touches on the issues of cutting. So this seems to be a great overall resource for the film. It is not as specific as some of the articles mentioned, but it is a good beginning piece to read.

Citation:

University, San Diego. Casablanca. 1 December 2008 http://history.sandiego.edu/gen/st/~ksoroka/hollywoodfilm.html

An article from the Film History department of the University of San Diego, this short reference demonstrates a crucial interpretation of a scene in which Lazlo (Paul Henreid), a French refugee, begins singing “La Marseillaise”, the French national anthem, as a direct challenge to the German officers who occupy Rick’s (Humphrey Bogart) nightclub.  The article explains how this action glorified the French resistance against the Vichy regime and displays propaganda in favor of the Allied powers.  The scene begins with the German officials who display their dominance and power in the locale by chanting the patriotic German song Die Wacht am Rhein.  Lazlo, a member of the Resistance Movement, begins to counter their power by singing the French National Anthem.  The entire nightclub, previously subdued by the German chant, begins to join Lazlo and Rick, a former member of the Resistance Movement in France, orders the band to play the tune.  In the end, the German officers stop their chanting and appear defeated by the resistance, a clear metaphor for their hopeful downfall.  The scene not only demonstrates support of the resistance against the Nazi regime, but it also demonstrates the renewed resistance in Rick’s character.  As noted in the article, his broken love with Isle (Ingrid Bergman) made him a “cynical” person, but such was the sacrifice he needed to make in order to pursue his duty to combat the wrongdoings of the Vichy-Berlin situation.  

This case addresses the adaptation of a novel to the big screen.  It is between the makers of the 1907 version of Ben-Hur, the Kalem Company, and Lew Wallace's estate, The Harper Brothers. 

For us, the piece of this case that is important is "whether the public exhibition of these moving pictures infringed any rights under the copyright law." 

If the court were to side with Wallace's estate, then movies would not be created without the author's permission because they "have the exclusive right to dramatize their works."  If the Kalem Company were victorious, then any novel could be made into a film based on the current copyright law because no one knew film would exist upon the law's creation.  The difference between a stage play and a motion picture is that each shot of a film was a still frame--hence a piece of art in its own. 

The Supreme Court said that "drama may be achieved by action as well as by speech," and that "action can tell a story, display all the most vivid relations between men, and depict every kind of human emotion without the aid of a word."  With this, the court found "that Ben-Hur was dramatized by what was done" meaning that the Wallace estate was the victor. 

For my question, "How can one scene effect a studio?" we can start by saying that this case established that MGM could buy the rights to the novel Ben-Hur.  Moreover, this case establishes that all authors' rights are protected in adaptations and led to all studios having to buy rights to make films. 

For MGM, seeing the build-up and hype from the novel to the stage play, helped them decide to go forward with the purchase of the rights that would lead to their movie that would end up costing them around $4,000,000.  And as mentioned in this bibliography, Ben-Hur led to a series of first in US popular culture.  The epic proportions of the chariot race scene are no exception, and because of this case we got to see the 1925 version, the 1959 version, and all of the grandeur of the imitators that followed.

In this book, Stephen Wylen explores the history of the Jews and emphasizes the parts of Early Judaism that are significant to Christians who want to understand the state of the race during Jesus' life.

For us, the important part of Wylen's book is the chapter titled "Hellenism."  Here he describes the taking over of Judah by the Roman general Pompey.  The highlights circle around Pompey going into the Jerusalem Temple and claiming that the Jews' religion was fake because there was no idol to worship.  The Jews "thought of themselves as citizens, in every way equal," but they didn't participate in "public civil...ceremonies because all of these things were formally dedicatd to the gods of the city."  Wylen says that this fact led to a "constant source of tension between Jews and Gentiles." 

The tension remained in Jesus' time.  Wylen brings forward the stories of the New Testament to illustrate the feelings the Jews and Gentiles had for one another.  In 66-70 AD the Jews failed to rebel and in 115 a "full-scale war broke out between the Jews and Gentiles."  This was under the Roman emperor Trajan who was responsible for the expansion of the Circus Maximus. 

Relating all of this to my question, "How can one scene effect a studio?" we can start by looking at the basics of Ben-Hur.  First off, Judah is a Jew who is friends with a Roman, Messala.  The story starts off with the two being friends, but later Judah Ben-Hur is arrested and Messala, who now has power, makes sure Ben-Hur is casted away.  This follows the history mentioned above and brings the tension between the Jews and Gentiles into our film.  As a side note, Ben-Hur also encounters Jesus--an encounter any Christian would like to see visually through an art form like film.

But back to the tension between Jew and Gentile, being that there was a massive, well-documented war among the two, it would be great for a studio to capitalize on the magnitude of the recorded history.  To do so, a film would have to find a way to dramatize the conflict between its two developed main characters--enter the chariot race.  As noted in other articles in this bibliography, the chariot race in Ben-Hur was the climax of the film. 

So a studio had to decide whether or not to push for an epic scene with grand architecture, massive numbers, intense drama, and a showdown between two former friends who represent two races that historically fought.  While the saying goes, down put all of your eggs in one basket, the success of Ben-Hur in both the stage play (mentioned in the bibliography) and the film was based on whether or not the producers had the guts to go a scene that had a lot of positive qualities going for it.  The only downsides I see, have already been highlighted--time, money, and resources.

In this book, Allen Guttmann takes a look at all aspects of sports' spectators from a historical standpoint.  He starts with Ancient Greece and Rome.  He then moves through the Renaissance and concludes with modern, professional sports.

For us, the important points come in the chapter, "Greek and Roman Spectators."  Here Guttmann describes the importance and popularity of the circus and its arenas.  He does this by citing the religious calendar which shows "10 days of gladiatorial games and 66 days of chariot races" in the fourth century A.D.  That's right, 66 days of chariot races!  

Guttmann then continues and reminds the readers that the "material cost of mounting...[the] games was enormous."  Moreover, the "economic factor was more important than moral considerations" when determining what events to hold.  And one event, no matter what the economic stance, can be proven popular, as Guttmann says, by simply looking at the architecture.  The Circus Maximus, which housed the chariot races, held "five times more spectators than the Colosseum." 

Guttmann even found a quote from Ammianus Marcellinus regarding the chariot races:  "the mass of the people, unemployed with too much time on their hands...For them the Circus Maximus is temple, home, community center and the fullfilment of all their hopes...They declare that the country will be ruined if at the next meeting their own particular champion does not come first of the starting-gate and keep his horses in line as he brings them round the post."

With all of this popularity among the people of the time, one could only imagine how the hype could be lived out forever on film.  So for my question, "How can one scene effect a studio?" we can ponder the thought process of the crew that had to capture all of the historic glory of the chariot race.  Pointed out more so by Guttmann, is the cost of the event at the time.  If it was expensive to have the games back in Ancient Rome for 66 days, a studio executive could predict that it would also be expensive to stage a race that had to be captured on 200,000 feet of film.

On the other side, the same executive could see all of the excitement generated by the Romans and create an epic scene which would propel his studio into the future.  And, as we know, Ben-Hur (1925) succeeded in shooting an amazing chariot race scene that setup MGM for years to come.