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Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1993.5.U6 G585 2005
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1993.5.U6 G585 2005
Paramount
Loew's/MGM
Fox
Warner Bros
RKO and the Minors: Universal, Columbia and United Artists.
The second part goes on to cover ‘The Classic Studio Era 1931-51' when the studios were at their apogee producing hundreds of films every year before the threat of declining audiences (because of urbanisation and competition from TV etc). Although the ranking was virtually the same (except that Gomery couples Disney with its distributor RKO and to the minors, and he adds the B-film factories like Republic and Mongram [noted for churning out westerns and serials etc]), this period also saw the sorry demise of RKO- Radio, destroyed by the mismanagement and regrettable taste of the reclusive Howard Hughes who considered the studio to be his play toy.
The last section covers ‘The Modern Hollywood Studio System' and how the studios were taken over by big business including Rupert Murdoch (Twentieth Century Fox) and huge multi-media conglomerates such as Time Warner AOL (Warner Bros) - these businesses even embracing major TV networks. The ranking now being:
Universal
Paramount
Warners
Twentieth Century Fox
Disney
Columbia and Sony Pictures
There are also sections on the Hays Office and the Academy and unions and agents and a chapter on the rise of Lew Wasserman the Hollywood agent who took Universal into the major league of studios and reinvented the studio system.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1993.5.U65 W29 2001
In the chapter “Mr. Movies—Cecil B. Demille and Filmmaking in Hollywood’s Golden Age,” the author chronicles Cecil B. Demille’s professional and personal life in Hollywood from 1913 until his death in 1959. DeMille came to Hollywood in 1913 when he could no longer make money working for stage productions. Early on, DeMille revealed he was a stickler for detail. This proved successful, as the majority of the films he turned out were popular. As his career progressed, DeMille had a clear progression of styles, from sex comedies in the 1920s to overblown epics with seven figure budgets in the 1940s. Following his financial success (he made more in a week than most people made in a year), DeMille stayed true to stereotype—he bought a fancy car, a fancy house as well as a weekend home with a pool and the iron gates from the set of The King of Kongs.
The immediate connection to the film The Day of the Locust in this chapter is the mention of the film The Buccaneer starring Anthony Quinn. This is the film whose premiere immediately preceded the riot at the end of the film. However, as the chapter goes on to describe the productions and life of Cecil B. DeMille, more similarities to The Day of the Locust appear. The big budget epics that DeMille was known for directly coincide with the production that appears in the film. It seems almost arbitrary when Tod is asked, “What do you know about Waterloo?” and this fascination with epic historical recreations coincides with those that brought DeMille success. Even the autocratic style with which the director in the film shouts at the cast of the film matches the reported personality of DeMille. Further, DeMille’s excesses–a large, elaborate house with a pool as well as fancy cars and dress—directly tie to those of Claude Estee in the film. However, the chapter conveys a depth to DeMille’s life that clearly differentiates him from Estee. While Estee is a caricature designed to illustrate the alleged emptiness that pervades even the lives of the successful in Hollywood, DeMille lived a rich life that included interests and successes distinct from the film world.
Cherneff, Jill BR. " Dreams Are Made like This: Hortense Powdermaker and the Hollywood Film Industry." Journal of Anthropological Research. Vol. 47, No. 4 (Winter 1991), pp.429-440. JSTOR. 9 Apr. 2008. <http://www.jstor.org/action/showArticle?doi=10.2307/3630352&Search=yes&term=dreams&term=hollywood&item=5&returnArticleService=showArticle&ttl=3533&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoBasicSearch%3FQuery%3Dhollywood%2Bdreams;gw%3Djtx;prq%3Djeepers%2Bcreepers;Search%3DSearch;hp%3D25>.
This article largely chronicles and responds to Hortense Powdermaker’s study of Hollywood culture in the late 1940s. In the book, she wrote following her study, Powdermaker highlights the struggle between art and business and Hollywood and suggests the social underpinnings of Hollywood culture determine what types of films are made. Powdermaker’s original contention is that the Hollywood film has had an impact on human behavior as dramatic as that of the wheel’s invention. Powdermaker observed that the power of movies lies in it’s depiction of apparent reality—that what appears on the screen looks real and thus must accompany real values and ideas to be absorbed. The remainder of the article focuses less on Powdermaker’s conclusions and research in order to focus on analyzing the research itself. The author discusses the challenges facing Powdermaker in reporting on a population unlike those most anthropologists focus on. Further, the author notices the absence of women in important roles behind the lens in Powdermaker’s research and contextualizes this historically as well as socially.
On a superficial level, it is interesting how Powdermaker’s journey in conducting her research mirrors that of Tod in the film The Day of the Locust. Both leave a successful endeavor at Yale and go to Hollywood for a sociological investigation of sorts—Powdermaker an unbiased anthropological study and Tod an emotional snapshot of Hollywood’s locusts. Some of Powdermaker’s research sheds light on the images of the industry contained in the film, such as the hierarchy of production and the social constructs behind the films.
Chris Morris writes this article in August 2001, just as the popularity of the relatively new home video format DVD was starting to gain popularity. Movie titles were released incrementally in this new all-digital format.
Morris writes that the popularity of Orson Welles’s Citizen Kane has created a high demand for the film to be released to the new DVD video format. Warner Home had been working on a 60th anniversary release and it was planned for the 25 of September in that same year. This new release was widely expected to be visually and sonically ungraded from the previous releases to home video. Morris writes that Warner, in their attempts to rerelease Citizen Kane, had originally not been able to find a suitable quality source film. RKO’s original camera negatives had been burned in a 1980 vault fire and as a result had also hampered past efforts a restoration. The 1991 VHS release had featured the copy owned by New York’s Museum of Modern Art, however this print had dirt and scratches on it, among other defects. Morris reports, however, that after patient and careful searching, Warner had found a new nitrate fine-grain print in a European archive and that this copy has offered better picture quality and served as an improved audio source. The improved audio quality is very important because the original score had a very high dynamic range. He also reports that the new DVD release would include an interview with Roger Ebert, a 1941 newsreel about the film’s premiere, and the documentary film of the Hearst-Welles conflict, The Battle Over Citizen Kane.
One might think that just like a personal computer user, large Hollywood movie studios would have countless backup copies of their master reels. This seems not to be the case. A fire at a single film vault destroyed RKO’s only master copy. Orson Welles was the recipient of the actual production negatives and his copy was also lost in a fiery accident in the 1970s. By re-mastering and fully digitizing the remaining high quality prints, the data can be stored in numerous locations very inexpensively and very safely. As we learned in class, nitrate has a propensity to catch on fire and is very dangerous in that respect. We also learned in class that Hollywood is usually very slow to adopt new media formats. DVD hit store shelves in mid-1997 yet this movie was released in late 2001, almost 4 years later. The studios might have an excuse in this case – the long and lucky search for a suitable master copy.
This article by a LA Times correspondent, written on May 9, 1941, documents the west coast premiere of Orson Welles’s famous film Citizen Kane. Kendall reports that the premiere of Citizen Kane is held at the famous El Capitan Theater, a Hollywood landmark stage theater. The author describes a nostalgic feeling of “the old days” of Hollywood amid spot lights which pierced the sky in front of thousands of fans gathered – much in today’s fashion – to see their favorite stars. The glitz and glamour seems to add to Welles’s ego as he walks down the red carpet, his entrance timed. The crowds make even more noise for Barrymore as he walks into the theater. When stopped for questioning on the red carpet, Welles makes only one remark – about his gratefulness to George Schaefer, the president of RIO-Radio Pictures. “If it had not been for George J. Schaefer there would not be a Citizen Kane.” Outside the theater, the star-struck crowd for the premiere is so large that RKO had to erect temporary bleachers. The article then extensively lists the famous attendees, including Mickey Rooney, Ronald Reagan and Bob Hope. Kendall also includes a photograph of the “stellar foursome” including John Barrymore, Dolores Del Rio, Orson Welles, and Dorothy Comingore.
This article is a fantastic first hand account of the media and popular frenzy surrounding the grand release of RKO’s Citizen Kane. The movie premiered at the famous El Capitan Theater and was the first movie to be shown at that location. The theater remains a landmark to this day on the Hollywood strip. This article clearly shows that despite Hearst’s best efforts to suppress the film’s release, these attempts only furthered to publicize the movie and create even more attention for the premiere. Hearst did succeed in limiting the films success and it wasn’t for many years that interest in the film was revived. This article also, interestingly enough, reveals that as early as 1941, Hollywood felt a sense of nostalgia for the good-old-days of past. It is interesting to see these feelings manifest at such an early date, especially because today we consider Hollywood’s Golden Age to encompass the 1920s through the late 1950s.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1993.5.U65 H67 2001]
2006.
Focus is mainly on which films were popular from 1945-1949 and analyzes the themes expressed
within these movies. However, undercurrents of many of the themes in "The Philadelphia Story"
are covered within Gant's chapters:
Ch. Two: Re-invigorating the nation: popular films and American national identity
"The myth of classlessness"-- gives many examples from "The Best Years of
our Lives" that veterans who came home received issues of class to be resolved
which they quickly discovered were not; America was still perceived to be quite classist
"Modernizing the American hero"
"The Absent Father"
"Stars and Performance"
Churchill, Douglas. "ORSON WELLES SCARES HOLLYWOOD :His 'Citizen Kane' Draws the Fire of W.R. Hearst, and Thereby Hangs a Tale -- the Hays Censors Ride Again." New York Times 19 Jan. 1941. ProQuest. 9 Apr. 2008
This is an original article published in the heat of the controversy over the release of Citizen Kane when it is still uncertain what action William Randolph Hearst will take against Welles, RKO, and even Hollywood as an institution if the film was released. The article outlines the development in the first ten days of the controversy, and at that time, it was entirely uncertain whether or not Welles’ film would reach an audience.
According to the article, at this point William Randolph Hearst had threatened all of Hollywood with some “embarrassing publicity” and had already launched several private investigations into some of the major individuals responsible for the film, including Welles and the head of RKO. Hearst also mandated that all of his Hearst publications delete any and all mention of RKO and its product from its columns as a result of the controversy. Furthermore, as the result of Hearst’s threats against RKO and those that supported the film’s release, it is suggested in this article that some major players in Hollywood were considering turning against the film out of fear of retribution. This would pose further problems to RKO due to needed cooperation between studios in order to survive in Hollywood, claims the article.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN/1993.5/U65/H5]
Higham, Charles, and Joel Greenberg. Hollywood in the Forties. New York: Tantivy, 1968.
As Higham and Greenberg phrase it, Hollywood films produced in the 1940s were a "world of
their own" (11). This book describes in detail the themes that grabbed hold of many
of the best-remembered plots of the 1940s screen. The introduction preceding these chapters
gives an explanation of how the film industry of the 1930s set the scene for this period. For
example, page 68 contains a passage that details how the leftist ideology and themes, resultant
from the Great Depression, were expressed in 1930s films; this left the 1940s to picked up
where the 1920s left off, celebrating decadence and the enjoyments of life.
A brief outline of the studio system and star system follows. This period
of American film would prove to be quite successful, boasting some of the funniest, wittiest,
and memorable films in the American cinematic canon. Something interesting to note in regard
to this book is the year it was published: 1968. At this time the Hollywood culture that
had produced films like "The Philadelphia Story" was beginning to get scoffed at or looked
down on in comparison to more artistic or avant-garde films.
"The Philadelphia Story" is mentioned by title here and the authors note that "today [the film]
feels empty" (162); the film which had been celebrated in its time for being
entertaining and snappy loses some of its original appeal in the onslaught of the
French New Wave and other more artistically oriented film movements. Chapters on "Problem and
Sociological Films", "War Propaganda", and "Comedy" are all of interest here in order to
understand how movies like "The Philadelphia Story", in some ways an archetypal 1940s film, was perceived
in the late 1960s-- only a decade after "High Society" was released.
an in-depth look at the genres that overwhelmed it for much of the twentieth-century.
An understanding of the many factors that drove films to be centered
on the topics that they were then lends to a more comprehensive picture of what
the film industry and American culture were during the studio period. Schatz
divides his book into two main parts: a theoretical look at genre film-making followed
by case studies of six dominant genres characteristic of the Hollywood studio system.
The genre that Schatz explores that is most relevant to "The Philadelphia Story" is
the one on The Screwball Comedy (Chapter 6, p. 150-185). Schatz outlines the general
convention of the screwball comedy, often characterized by portrayals of the American
elite and social and sexual tensions between the sexes- usually between a frustrated
man and woman from different backgrounds who fight their way through fast-paced and
witty dialogue only to realize that they are destined for each other. The themes in
screwball comedies usually deal with class issues and romantic or sexual ones.
Schatz notes the
huge popularity of these films during the Great Depression. He mentions "The
Philadelphia Story" specifically in order to discuss a variation of the archetypal
screwball comedy that became popular in the 1940s: the divorce-remarriage variation.
In these films the screwball couple have already been joined together in marriage
but then something goes awry and the movie is spent reconciling this differences.
"The Philadelphia Story" is a prime example for this sub-genre, with the relationship
between Tracy Lord and C.K. Dexter Haven occupying its plot and manifesting itself
in typical, and highly entertaining, screwball manner.
Thirty four years after Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song’s release in the theaters, its author, director, producer, soundtrack-composer Melvin Van Peebles reviews the impact of his film , replacing it in the historical framework of the particular relationship of African Americans with the cinema industry.
Van Peebles begins with the primary inconsistent descriptions of Black people in Hollywood’s movies, from the “buffonesque” pre-war image to the moralistic figure of the “New Negro”, which hypocritically still presented the old racist and paternalistic attitude. While Black characters were more or less present , the whole cinema industry did not open itself to Black directors, actors and cinema workers. As a result, until the end of the 1960s, Black audiences did not crowd in theaters. Van Peebles’ arrival in San Francisco as a French delegate to present his first film set up a new deal by opening the studios to Black artists. However, the succeeding blaxploitation wave, if directly appealing to the African American audiences, constituted according to Van Peebles a reactionary reversal of the first “Black films” of the 1970s to maintain a status quo. The director had to wait the 1990s to see a “new wave” of young Black directors to eventually see a new “artistic diversity”, with Black directors and actors involved in every part of the cinematic landscape. The article ends with a point of view on the current state of Hollywood and the need for democratizing the production of films, now permitted by the new technologies.
“Lights, Camera & The Black Role In Movies” provides a lucid personal view “from within” about the tremendous impact of Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song on the cinema industry. It replaces the landmark movie in its historical framework and underlines the personal motivations of its director who had faced a particularly bad treatment of Black role in movies.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1995.9.N47 M87 1996
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN3435 .H55 2005
Chapter 4. Displaying Connoisseurship, Recognizing Craftmanship.
In this chapter Hills explores how the pleasures of horror are constructed and narrated through fan discourses. He analyzes horror fan discourses on a few different horror internet forums and concludes that connoisseurship is the master trope in fan struggles against "inauthentic" horror consumers (non-fans) and taste-making authorities who marginalize horror. Horror fans position themselves as "authentic" through knowledge of the genre and by privileging this intellectual engagement with horror over any affective, emotional engagement. That is, "nonfans" react to horror emotionally (they express fear), while "fans" are interact in a conscious, "knowing" (and at times "superior") way. Ironically, the ostensive purpose of horror films (to instill "horror") is marginalized in these fan communities to "non-fans"). However, it is also recuperated through personal narratives of first/childhood experiences with horror. These narratives admit the affective aspect of horror as experienced in childhood and this serves as a "discourse of affect." This discourse allows the horror fan to positions themselves as rational and literate ("serious") to gain cultural credibility pushing emotion to the past and turning affect into knowledge.
Hills considers online communities--following Pierre Levy and Henry Jenkins--as a 'cosmopedia.' In horror fan forums, fans establish their subcultural identities through appropriate performances within this collective, interactive, and contested "knowledge space." Horror fans also express connoisseurship through their recognition and celebration of horror "special effects" (SFX). Hills rightfully points out that while horror directors are celebrated as auteurs (George Romero, Dario Argento, etc.), SFX creates a network of author functions. The reading of horror films by "fans" often involves a "double attention" to both the experience of the horrific content and the content as special effect. While some fans may use the attention to SFX as a "masculine" reading strategy to deflect affective (i.e. "feminine) responses, Hills points out that a aignificant portion of the audience does so to generate and sustain a reading of "horror-as-art." These fan discourses, Hills argues, work contra to many theories of horror which privilege cognitive,literary, or psychoanalytic textual aspects as generating the (dis)pleasures of horror. Fans' constructed pleasures of horror revolve more around imagined version of their "generic community" or subculture and its particular distinctions from other cultures.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1995.9.H6 H75 2002
Berenstein analyzes film reviews and marketing ploys during the first cycle of classic Hollywood horror films (1931-1934) concluding that the horror film served as an ideal site for the "performance"of socially prescribed gender roles, behaviors, and heterosexual coupling rituals. Film studios, exhibitors,and reviewers relied upon gender assumptions, but in contradictory ways. Many film reviwers ignored questions of gender all together treating the horror film audience as an "ungendered" mass, while other reviews expressed surprise that horror films would be as popular with women as they were. The marketing and promotion of horror films, however, rarely took women for granted. Many horror films--such as Dracula (1931)--were promoted as frightening thrillers and romances hoping to appeal to both male and female audiences (assuming a gendered split in interest). Horror film promotional gimmicks took a variety of forms, but many revolved around personifying "fear" as feminine. Gender expectations were that women scream and shriek during horror films, while men displayed bravery (or, masked their own fear which was seen as feminine). If studios and exhibitors (and the films themselves) relied on these assumed gender roles, it's likely that audiences both played along with these assumptions (in a "performative" sense) as well as reactedin oppositional and contradictory ways. There are some issues with Berenstein work. She seemst o implicitly criticize 1930s film reviewers for speaking of the "horror fan" instead of the "female" (or "male") horror fan. While acknowledging that issues of gender are important, speaking of the "female" horror fan is itself not without problems. For one, it also assumes (and thereby reinforces) a gendered difference in audience reactions to horror. While this difference may be true (to some degree, in some ways) it is an empirical question. Although Berenstein acknowledges a space for male and female audience members to act and react outside of proscribed gender roles, she does so only grudgingly.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1995.9.H6 H674 2004
This edited collection of essays has the overarching goal of exploring the horror film genre by paying attention to the technical and industrial aspects of film that distinguish horror films from horror in other media (such as literature or comic books). The two general questions that the essays-to one degree or another-address are: what role does technology play in the production of horror films, and what role does technology play in the distribution, exhibition, and reception of horror films? ("technology" defined broadly to include production equipment, industrial mechanisms, ideological mechanisms, etc.). The first section of the book consists of essays that explore various technologies and formal innovations employed in the production of horror films. The second section of the book deals with issues surrounding horror films in the marketplace (advertising, distribution, and reception). Finally, the third section examines discursive and ideological aspects of the horror genre from censorship to fan discourse.
Philip Simpson's chapter entitled "The Horror 'Event' Movie: The Mummy, Hannibal, and Signs" explores horror films as they are positioned as Hollywood blockbusters. These marketing and promotion of these films often downplay or outright deny the film's association with the horror genre (still often seen as a marginal or low brow genre). Simpson argues that these horror 'event' movies reach a larger mainstream audience by using star actors and high profile directors, high production values, and genre mixing. Simpson distinguishes between major studio horror films and "second tier" cult audience films. While it is true that many of the films that Simpson discusses are marketed as something other than horror (either as thrillers, adventure films, or even supernatural thrillers), it is not clear where the division between A-list productions and "second tier" films lies. He cites the $100 million dollar domestic theatrical gross mark as certifying a blockbuster, but fails to cite many of the low budget, independent, or "second tier" horror films that crossed that barrier such as The Blair Witch Project (1999), The Ring (2002), and The Grudge (2004).
Variety.com - MPAA tries to remove NC-17 stigma: Glickman takes a hard look at ratings
Sat., Mar. 10, 2007
Variety.com - Fox Atomic brings new twists: Genre Label Adds to Conventional Tactics.
Tue., Feb. 20, 2007
by Steven Zeitchick
The article discusses the creation of Fox Atomic--a division of Fox Film Entertainment dedicated to genre films and youth markets. However, Fox Atomic doesn't want to just create and market movies, rather "it wants to create entire worlds around those movies." The Fox Atomic website enlists current trends in digital culture to reach out to young, tech savy audiences. The studio has a presence in Second Life called "Fox Atomic Island, a virtual movie studio where citizens can pick up and play with avatars from all its leading pics." It also holds mashup and machinima contests, includes movie related video games on its website, as well as user forums and information on forthcoming releases. In addition, Fox Atomic has created a comics division that will release comics based on movie properties that are not adaptations of the films, but rather engage in "cross-media" storytelling. Current and upcoming film releases include The Hills Have Eyes 2, 28 Weeks Later, and Touristas.
Although other film studios and distributors have a web presence and engage with digital culture, few have ventured quite as far as Fox Atomic. The article remains skeptical as to the success of this strategy as it is still unproven in its ability to generate ticket sales, but this sort of "web 2.0" interactivity and media convergence may be something that film studios can ill afford to ignore.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1995.9.H6 H45 2004
Heffernan’s book seeks to investigate the economic and industrial aspects of the horror film genre that many scholarly accounts (which typically focus on cultural and/or aesthetic issues) fail to adequately consider. The book focuses on the postwar period (1953-1968); a period comprised of drastic changes in the film industry (i.e., Paramount decree, TV, technological innovation), and charts some of the functions or positions that horror genre pictures filled during this time period. He argues that this period—which is book-ended by 3D technology and the adoption of the MPAA rating system—saw a major cultural and economic shift in the production and reception of horror movies. This was partially due to the Supreme Court’s Paramount decision in 1948 which required the break-up of Hollywood’s vertically integrated system of production, distribution, and exhibition. As Hollywood studios began producing fewer films, independent distributors and exhibitors needed more product to fill out their schedules including B-pictures for the bottom half of popular double-feature bills. Heffernan argues that “low” genres like horror and sci-fi played an important part in the testing and development of new technologies and methods of production, distribution, and advertising to accommodate various changes including suburbanization, the growth of television, new youth markets, and the new economic and business structures of the film industry. Although written as a “corrective” to scholarship which focuses solely on culture and aesthetics, Heffernan avoids “economic determinism” by deftly intertwining the exploration of various aesthetic and formal changes of the horror genre during this period including greater psychological realism and, of course, graphic gore.
Using Philadelphia as his test market, Heffernan chronologically traces the distribution and exhibition patterns of various horror films across both theatrical and television venues. He begins with the early 1950s cycle of 3D horror films arguing that the narrative and stylistic norms of the horror genre could best negotiate the conflicting demands of “attraction” (the gimmick shots) and narrative integration of the classical Hollywood model, and also detailing the challenges faced by small theater owners to equip theaters to show 3D. Heffernan continues through the 50s and 60s exploring the impact of Hammer’s color saturated and bloody Gothic updates of the classic Universal monsters, how shortages in production from majors caused independent distributors and exhibitors to get into the production business, how the rise in art theaters utilized both exploitation/genre films and art cinema (i.e., “paracinema”), and the rise of “adult” horror in the late 60s. Overall, Heffernan’s book is well-researched, clearly written, and provides a wealth of knowledge for film scholars interested in the economic side of the industry—especially those interested in genre film. The only quibble is with the brief conclusion “The Horror Film in the New Hollywood.” It feels not only tacked on, but somewhat dismissive of the horror film post-1968. He also makes some broad—and I believe incorrect—claims such as that in the 1980s horror film spectacle overwhelms narrative. This comment flies in the face of the convincing arguments he lays out in discussing the intricate relation between technology and genre film of the 50s and 60s (such as horror’s ability to navigate 3D and narrative).
This is an amazingly concise, prescient, and illuminating essay. It details in a very systematic manner the impact that digitization is likely to have (and, considering this was written in 2004, there predictions all seem to be coming true), and the implications of this impact. One thing it neglects to address, however, is the distribution of DVDs to buy and own. Will this form of distribution fall by the wayside as well, or will things like director commentaries and other bonus features make it a desired commodity? Also, what if you can stream the bonus features – will people still want to own something tangible? Overall, though, this essay is extremely helpful for anyone interested in studying the impact of digitization on the movie studio system both from a consumer and content producer point of view.
As far as my own project is concerned this essay is a useful account of the relationship between commercial studios and individual consumers. Also, its discussion of the impact of digitization on content producers, and the shift of power likely to ensue there, is extremely relevant to my own interest in user generated content. Further, this essay describes the “bargaining power” content producers are likely to gain as access to the means of production increases, and while this is most likely the case, for my purposes it is also necessary to examine how commercial studios will work to limit the bargaining power of producers or co-opt the work of content creators for their own commercial ends (e.g. Dorito’s Super Bowl ads, etc.).
History of Hollywood in 1960’s and 1970’s. By M. Kach and G. Lane.
"Power SHIFT." Hollywood Reporter -- International Edition; 11/18/2003, Vol. 381 Issue 18, pI1-I2, 2p, 1c
This article from the Hollywood Reporter talks about the globalization of the media industry and its implication on the American film industry. Stephen Galloway begins with an analogy between ancient Rome and modern day Hollywood stating that “empires crumble.” Galloway’s actual argument however in no way implies that Hollywood will be worse off from current trends of foreign advancement and globalization.
India, China, South Korea, Saudi Arabia, and Russia are mentioned and briefly analyzed as regions which exemplify dramatic expansion and growth in this modern age. Galloway also takes note that these regions are responsible for creative ideas which Hollywood licenses for remake rights.
The changing trends in foreign countries are not limited to productions of movies, but Galloway shows how US movies are being increasingly invested by foreign investors. Quoting Walt Disney Studios chairman Dick Cook, Galloway points to the fact that Hollywood is focusing on the world market, both for investment and distribution. Gone are the days of ‘splendid isolation,’ however it seems as though the future and profits of Hollywood seem bigger and better than ever.
This pertains to my thesis as evidence of the recent globalization of Hollywood. This world view of remakes, foreign investment, and world wide distribution would not be possible without the current implementation of international copyright law. Since the US joined the Berne Convention in 1989, legal globalization has exploded with all parties benefiting from the interaction.
See also:
Stein, Herb and Louella Parsons. Best of Hollywood. Philadelphia Inquirer, 12 Jan. 1963: 6
Parsons, Louella and Joe Hyams. Best of Hollywood. Philaelphia Inquirer, 8 Jan. 1963: 10
The “best of hollywood” column was a staple in the Philadelphia Inquirer in 1963, usually running a few times each week. Herb Stein and Louella Parsons were two of the more regular contributors, though there were others, including Joe Hyams. These three columns are fairly typical: Gossip ranging from on-set news to off-set disputes to Marlon Brando attending his first movie premiere (not in Philadelphia, sadly.) These columns represent a fair portion of the film news that Philadelphia newspaper readers (at least, readers of the Inquirer) received in 1963—actual film reviews were more rare. By A. Migdail
Film critic’s assessment of Hollywood in the late 1920s.
Discusses the upheavals that talking pictures have caused in the Hollywood film industry and warns Philadelphia readers that getting a job as an extra in Hollywood at the time is very difficult. His statements describe an unfortunate state of affairs in Hollywood that would be fully realized with the coming stress of the Depression. By Uri Friedman
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1993.5.U6 B655 1985
David Bordwell, Kristin Thompson, and Janet Staiger have provided the canonical and definitive study of the Hollywood film industry of the classical era--approximately 1917 to 1960. As the subtitle to the book indicates, this study looks at the intersection of film style and modes of production (including technology, business models, studio ownership, technical craft, etc.) and generally argues that the studio era of Hollywood is marked by a fairly coherent aesthetic system and consistent style which the modes of production worked to reinforce. According to Bordwell, the classical style does not consist of iron-clad rules, but rather offers a paradigm of "bounded alternatives" from which filmmakers can choose allowing individual creativity while still reinforcing the overall aesthetic system. Additionally, the system is flexible enough to incorporate stylistic innovations into its own schemata--for example, German Expressionism was incorporated into both the horror films of the 1930s and the cycle of film noir in the 1940s and 50s. The book is extensively researched, highly detailed, and very useful for anyone researching Hollywood cinema. The approach to this book is based in industrial history and formal aesthetic analysis of films--it is not a cultural studies text nor does it engage critical theory is any sustained way (which is part of its strength). However, nothing prevents one from applying the insights from Bordwell, Thompson, and Staiger to a cultural studies project. If you are looking for a more cultural history of Hollywood, then Robert Sklar's Movie-made America: A Cultural History of American Movies is a good bet.
Biographer Charlotte Chandler relies mostly on direct quotations from Billy Wilder to let the story of his life come across. Her book's chapter on Sabrina contains Wilder's reflections and memories of writing and directing the film. These thoughts come from the perspective of decades after the film's original release, and give insight into what could have been a very different movie, but turned out to be Sabrina.
The film was adapted from a play, Samuel Taylor's Sabrina Fair. Wilder began work on the adaptation, along with Taylor, before the play even opened on Broadway. Wilder had no qualms about making changes when adapting this play for the big screen, and he wanted to tweak the dialogue to fit the stars he was hoping would appear in the film (Audrey Hepburn and at the time, Cary Grant). Once the play opened successfully though, Wilder and Taylor began to disagree about the degree of change necessary, leading to Taylor quitting and being replaced by another writer, Ernest Lehman.
It was Lehman who convinced Wilder to steer clear of a sex scene between Sabrina and Linus Larrabee, because it would have hurt Hepburn's image. Lehman and Wilder both agreed that Hepburn was a special actress. Because of her grace, she was perfectly suited for the film's Cinderella allegory. Hepburn had a similar respect for Wilder. This is in contrast to the director's often adversarial relationship with Humphrey Bogart, who played Linus Larrabee.
Chandler notes that Wilder chose to play up Hepburn's "Cinderella quality," and this is evident in her first appearance in the film, when a full moon sits over her shoulder. This fairy tale theme is also echoed in the film's opening narration. Though Hepburn narrates, she is not in character as Sabrina, and this sets the scene for the idyllic story. The class shift and Sabrina's infatuation with older men are also fairy tale-type elements.
Chandler's snapshot of Wilder provides a way for moviewatchers to see the human side of film--though a commodity for making money, directors, writers, and actors could leave personal marks by infusing films with their own ideas.
Some of the reason for the May-December theme had to do with casting, and were not originally intended. In Sabrina, the role of Linus Larrabee was originally meant for Cary Grant, so when it went to Humphrey Bogart, a man much older than Audrey Hepburn, the role took on new layers of meaning. Linus came to be seen additionally as a father figure to Hepburn's young Sabrina. Casting Gary Cooper opposite Hepburn in Love in the Afternoon yielded similar results, as did choosing the iconic Marilyn Monroe to portray what had been a more average role on the Broadway stage in The Seven Year Itch. But Dick also tries to connect this motif to a theme or motivation in Wilder's life. He notes that Wilder's age when he was working on these movies might have affected his outlook. In middle age, the theme of rejuvenation may have been of particular interest to him, and the fatherly relationships may have reflected his own love for his daughter at the time.
In Sabrina, Dick sees one father-daughter bond being replaced with another, the first biological, the second metaphorical. Dick argues that in her relationship with Linus, Sabrina re-channels the love she used to reserve for her father towards her beau. Linus provides financial security and protection for Sabrina, just as a father would. This situation is only believable because the film operates as a fairy tale, Dick says.
Grouping these films together is interesting, but from the descriptions of Love in the Afternoon and The Seven Year Itch, it doesn't seem that the films have as much in common with each other thematically (aside from romance) as Dick might have us believe. And some of what they do have in common, as Dick admits, has do with coincidences of casting. This grouping seems to serve best simply as a way for Dick to organize Wilder's many films.
Call#: Van Pelt Library PN1998.A3 L38
When watching a film, it would be wonderful if we could know precisely what the director was thinking during each shot. This is particularly true of the film, Doctor Zhivago. The film is filled to the brim with rich scenes that seem to mesh the talents of the actors with exotic scenery and skilled camera work. Gerald Pratley's novel, The Cinema of David Lean, allows viewers to gain an understanding of the director's motives behind various sequences in the film. In the novel, Pratley engages in a candid conversation with David Lean, one of the premier filmmakers of the modern Hollywood era. The chapter entitled, Doctor Zhivago, was particularly helpful because it allowed readers to understand David Lean's intentions when he was filming his masterpiece. First and foremost, David Lean discusses elements of the movie that he felt were rather symbolic. He discusses how he consistently depicted modern vehicles as the realms of misfortune. Essentially, David Lean attempted to show how the advent of modern technology during the early 20th century was regarded as an intimidating force, and not always a welcome one. Pratley expands on this idea by giving specific examples. For instance, a mass of Russian citizens suffer during their train ride across the Ural countryside. They sleep amidst feces, uncooked potatoes, and vomit. It is also from the viewpoint of the train that we see the devastated landscape of the burnt villages. Furthermore, Strelnikov is associated with a red, bullet-speed train. We see him quickly pass by pedestrians, followed by a shot of him standing at the forefront of the car, looking into the distance. Finally, the Yuri Zhivago also meets his demise on a trolley. He sees Lara from the window of his seat, and then attempts to fetch her but is blocked by a mass of passengers. When he does finally get off the train, he dies of a heart attack. Pratley even proposes the opposite idea; more traditional forms of transportation are equated with love and romance in the film. For instance, we often see couples in heats of passion on the traditional horse-driven carts. Komarovsky seduces Lara on a horse-drawn buggy, and in another scene, Zhivago and Tonya kiss passionately during their late night ride back from the Christmas party. In Pratley's chapter, David Lean goes on to confess a number of other symbolic aspects in the film having to do with scenery, camera angles, his selection of actors, and set design. Pratley also engages in a candid interview with David Lean, in which he questions the director on certain techinical decisions he made in putting together the final cut. This novel, and more specifically, the chapter referring to Doctor Zhivago, was extremely useful in analyzing the more subtle aspects of the film, because it gives reader direct access to David Lean's thoughts and intentions.
Perhaps one of the most fascinating aspects of the film, Doctor Zhivago, is the intense sexual prowess of the characters. At any given moment, especially early in the film's narrative, four intimate relationships are progressing at once; Komarovsky with Lara's mother, Komarovsky with Lara, Pasha with Lara, Zhivago with Tonya, and eventually Zhivago with Lara as well. Why is it that David Lean and Robert Bolt decide to add a number of extra-marital affairs to the script, even though many of them do not exist in Pasternak's novel? Gregor Carleton touches on this subject in his novel, Sexual Revolution in Bolshevik Russia. Carleton claims that along with the sentiments of political revolution in 1917, came a new sense of sexual freedom. He says that young communist-activists were not just rebelling against political institutions, but against all institutions, including "marriage". In fact, out of this political movement came a strong campaign for women's empowerment. These revoluationary sentiments explain the strength that characterizes Lara throughout the film. She is under the rule of no one, and lives out most of her life as a single, independent woman. According to Carleton, this is an accurate portrayal of women from revolutionary Russia. He cites one female in particular, as his prime example of the changes that accompanied Bolshevism; Kollontai. Kollontai was a party official, fiction writer, and polemicist, and was highly educated. But her most significatn contribution to the revolutionary cause was her views on women's sexuality. Carleton writes, "Her message was that there could be no authentic marriage, no love or intimate relationship, in a class-based, property-obessessed society." (Sexual Revolution in Bolshevik Russia, pg. 38). Essentially, women of Russian society were tired of becoming pieces of property for their men. They were tired of subordination, and their answer to these abuses was sexual promiscuity. In fact, to back such a claim, Carleton sites a poll taken in 1922 in Russia, asking citizens whether marriage was their "ideal" form of a relationship. 21.4% of men said it was, whereas only 14.3% of women said the same. Instead, women stated in interviews that they desired short-term relationships. One bourgeoisie woman, interviewed around the same time as the poll was taken, stated, "Sex is extremely important to me. Its absence ruins my whole mood." (Sexual Revolution in Bolshevik Russia, pg. 39) Therefore, the Russian Revolution was not just a political upheaval, it was also a time of women's empowerment. They were finally allowed to address their own sexuality. Much of this sexuality is evident in Doctor Zhivago. The film is set during the Russian Revolution, and Lara is portrayed as an independent, sexually promiscuous woman. Despite her hatred for Komarovsky, she enjoys the sexual benefits he provides. Similarly, we see the absence of "marriage" as a viable institution in this film. Almost every marriage is violated through infidelity, including Lara's marriage with Pasha, and Zhivago's marriage with Tonya. Carleton's analysis of sexuality during the Russian Revolution explains why David Lean and Robert Bolt may have chosen add the concept of "promiscuity" to the film.
Hollywood was no stranger to employing immigrant talent by this time, and Billy Wilder himself had fled Nazi Europe. Hepburn left Holland for similar reasons. Though many of Wilder's film deal with internationalism, their meanings can be laced with ambiguity, perhaps because of Wilder's own conflicted personal history (his family had died in concentration camps.) These ambiguities echo weightier political and cultural questions.
Smith notes that foreign starlets like Hepburn were celebrated in this time period, but the most famous males were mostly American. Indeed, Bogart was known for his ruggedly American role in Casablanca. This gendering goes back to the reconfiguring of the May-December romance into a symbol for the triumph of American culture in Europe.
Smith traces the history of competition between Hollywood and the French cinema, arguing that the Larrabees' business in Sabrina reflexively mirrors America's "cowboy-style" business tactics. Sabrina's time in Paris teaches her feminine skills that make her attractive for American consumption, and because Sabrina must be out of the way for David Larrabee to marry into t