In a way, I completely understand why Martin Scorsese ruffled more than a few feathers when he was asked about Marvel movies in 2019, as he was preparing to promote “The Irishman,” and he likened them to theme park rides more than cinema. He clarified his stance further in an op ed for The New York Times, but it only seemed to widen the gap further. As someone who loves the MCU, and a great many other blockbuster franchises and films, I understand where people took his words like the sour grapes attitude of a director whose films have never, even at their most successful, reached the financial heights of an “Avengers: Endgame” or “Star Wars.” I also completely agree with Marty, and his point that the blockbusters have been doing more and more to push smaller art films out of the marketplace, and on to the fringes. But then again, I will watch any genre, and have since college, and film study is the great passion of my life.
This week, Marty came back with an essay in Harpers Magazine that used his love of the great Federico Fellini as a way of pushing back on the modern idea of calling movies “content,” which is all that the largest corporations who own all of the most expansive catalogs of films looks at them as, and how so many streaming services use algorithms to push viewers towards what THEY want them to see, rather than what the viewer themselves might want to see. Again, there was pushback against what Scorsese was talking about, even though he is completely correct. Part of it is the way some people have been choosing select quotes from his essays and answers for a click bait-worthy headline, but it also comes down to the fact that so many people feel betrothed to the Hollywood machines of Marvel or DC that the words of someone like Scorsese- by any metric, one of the best filmmakers of all-time, and someone who has done more than most of Hollywood to elevate filmmaking voices along the fringes, and push forward the necessary process of film preservation- that it is all they know. Even when a filmmaker like Ryan Coogler (“Black Panther”) or Anna Boden & Ryan Fleck (“Captain Marvel”) or Rian Johnson (“Star Wars: The Last Jedi”) or Patty Jenkins (“Wonder Woman”) makes the jump to a franchise film, how many people go back to search for “Fruitvale Station” or “Half Nelson” or “Brick” or “Monster” afterwards, to see how those filmmakers made their name, which might have put them on the radars of the “powers that be” behind their bigger films? Once they make that jump, for a lot of people, that’s where the audience awareness begins, and it’s not “From the Director of ‘Fruitvale Station'” or “From the Director of ‘Monster'” that becomes the selling point going forward. The major studios and streaming services then have a vested interest in selling those filmmakers on the blockbusters they made a profit with rather than the films they got their start on, so when you watch a Marvel or DCEU movie on Netflix, you’ll be directed to the genre rather than what those other filmmakers might have done prior. Of course, when you watch on Disney+ or HBOMAX, the curation will lead to like films not just because of the studio’s vested financial interest in getting you to continue to watch the other films or TV shows they’re producing, but because they won’t necessarily own the rights to the earlier films. That’s where I think, and Marty thinks, curation of streaming services like Netflix and Hulu can do a better job, much like The Criteron Channel and Turner Classics Movies.
Older movies are the ones that set the stage for modern films. Whether you’re talking about “Citizen Kane” or “2001: A Space Odyssey” or “Jaws” or “Star Wars,” even if a film doesn’t directly lift from the earlier movies, everything from “GoodFellas” to “Pulp Fiction” to “Independence Day” to “Spider-Man” is a descendent of the history of cinema that came before it. As I was coming into my own as a moviewatcher in my 20s, one film would lead to another which would lead to another. Sometimes it was because of the director who made it. Sometimes it was because of the star who was in it. Sometimes it was because of a reference in a review. Of course, I was a reader of reviews on a regular basis, before I began writing them myself, so everyone from Roger Ebert to Leonard Maltin to Peter Travers to Owen Gleiberman would point me in the direction of films or filmmakers who intrigued me. Let’s take “The Crow,” which is #2 on my list of all-time favorite films. The publicity for the film, including positive reviews from Ebert and Travers, led me to that film. Which led me to watching all of Brandon Lee’s films, and started me following Alex Proyas’s career. And a mention by a reviewer of the film “Stalker” in one review of “The Crow” led me to seek out that film. Which led me to Andrei Tarkovsky. Which opened the floodgates to world cinema on a larger scale. All because of one film, and how I became curious of more films- past ones and future ones- that might be of interest because of said film. Of course, not every movie fan’s mind works this way, and if I wasn’t as immersed in cinema as I am now, there’s no telling whether I still would have had this mindset of exploration. But I can say, “The Crow” was not the only film where I branched out as I did because of it; in fact, Scorsese’s films had the same effect. And the good thing with his work is, his influences are readily available.
If you read Scorsese’s essays above, and are intrigued to dive into movies along the lines that he lays out in them, I have three films of his for you where you can start; in a way, they are an unofficial trilogy of film appreciation. In 1995, he co-directed “A Personal Journey With Martin Scorsese Through American Movies”, a nearly 4-hour documentary where Scorsese lays out, in five sections, a primer for the cinema that inspired him growing up, and growing into the filmmaker he became. I’ve probably watched it a dozen times in the 20 years since I first purchased it, and it never fails to fascinate me, as Scorsese discusses the different ways filmmakers have managed to put a personal stamp on their films, even when they seem to be a part of the genre assembly line. That is best illustrated in the second section, titled “The Director as Storyteller,” where he goes through the western, gangster film, and musical film, and highlights certain filmmakers, and how they pushed the boundaries of what types of stories could be told within their confines. While on the surface, you would think this section might make a good case for the modern superhero genre being treated the same way Scorsese treats westerns and gangster films, look again at how the studios behind DC and Marvel treat those films as properties to be profited off of rather than engines for creative storytelling; how many times have Spider-Man and Batman been rebooted now? How many different Jokers are we at? While there’s certainly personal love that filmmakers have managed to bring to those properties, and different themes that often can be explored, we ultimately get similar stories each time out whenever a new director comes on board with a “new vision” of Superman, and the results are often met with increased division from the audience. When John Wayne stars in multiple westerns for John Ford, it’s not the same character, or story, each time out; usually, they were exploring something new within the archetypes of the genre they knew so well. In the MCU, there’s an awful lot of superheroes dealing with daddy issues, that can often be boiled down to the same idea over and over; it’s just the package surrounding it that is different.
In 1999, Scorsese made “My Voyage to Italy”, another 4-hour exploration into his relationship with cinema, this time the Italian films he was exposed to growing up as the descendent of Italian immigrants. In his Harpers essay, he spends much of his time discussing Fellini, who was the Italian director that meant the most to him growing up, but in “My Voyage to Italy,” we get deep dives into Robert Rossellini, Vitorio De Sica and Michelangelo Antonioni, as well, culminating with Fellini. It’s a fascinating journey that is best taken after first watching “A Personal Journey,” but Scorsese is a master at making film history compelling, and I would be surprised if he doesn’t inspire people to seek out “Voyage to Italy” or “8 1/2” or “Umberto D” by the time he’s done breaking them down; I know he did for me.
The final leg of the trilogy came in 2011 with his Oscar-winning “Hugo”, which is my favorite film of his, and I would venture, might be the most personal one he has ever made. Based off of the children’s novel by Brian Selznick (the first cousin of the legendary producer of “Gone With the Wind,” David O. Selznick), the film is a love letter to the early imagination of cinema, and a plea for film preservation, seen through the eyes of an orphan whose father died, but not before bringing home an automaton from the museum he worked at. The automaton, it turns out, was the work of the film pioneer George Méliès, whose use of visual effects took the just-beginning art form a bold leap forward, much like “Citizen Kane” and “2001” and “Star Wars” and “Lord of the Rings” did decades later. When we meet him, Méliès is a broken man, whose dreams died with the advent of WWI, and audiences tastes changing more towards harsh reality; only through Hugo’s intervention does he discover that his art was not lost, and will be allowed to survive for future generations. Scorsese, through his work in film preservation, is like Hugo, whose love of movies was passed down from his father, and now, he wishes to save those memories for future generations. He is also Rene Rabard, the film historian who has studied Méliès his whole life, and wishes to restore his rightful place in film history, as Scorsese does to the filmmakers and films he highlights in his aforementioned documentaries, and in clips in this film. But I can also see him, now, as Méliès, who sees the way corporations have disregarded the rich history of cinema for profit, and are less interested now in pushing the medium forward as they are in strip-mining past successes to make 20% more from a recognizable name rebooted rather than giving original voices, personal voices, a fair chance. Focusing on what an “algorithm” can push audiences towards rather than giving them a chance to discover something for themselves is why Scorsese is so passionate in the essays I link to above, and why people should pay attention to his words, which come from a place of passionate love of an art form he’s spent a lifetime studying.
One of the reasons I look so fondly on these three works of Scorsese’s more than even ones I love like “GoodFellas” or “The Last Temptation of Christ” is because Marty is not speaking from a dogmatic perspective of film history, but a personal one. Yes, masters like Welles and Kubrick and Fellini are given plenty of consideration, but there are filmmakers like Andre DeToth and Ida Lupino and films like “The Iron Crown” and “The Gold of Naples” that are personal to Scorsese that I would not have necessarily been aware of on my own. Because of the way he curated his own cinematic memories, he’s opened doors for myself and others that we wouldn’t have known about otherwise. He’s still doing it, as well; recently, on the Empire Magazine podcast, Edgar Wright and Quentin Tarantino discuss a list of obscure British films that Scorsese made, and the discoveries both filmmakers found as a result. I have not heard the episode for myself yet, but I have seen the list, and now I’m curious to dive into it myself.
Ultimately speaking, there is no one way to watch movies, or to love movies. If you only enjoy one or two genres, that is fine. If you only enjoy films that give you comfort, that is fine, as well. If you are someone who wants to enjoy movies on a deeper level, though, and live for the discovery of something new to add to your cinematic memory banks, few voices are as worth paying attention to as Martin Scorsese, and some of the places he can lead you to are rich and rewarding. The three films I’ve highlighted here are a good place to start, and I would say the best order would be “Hugo” (which is akin to Film Appreciation 101), “A Personal Journey With Martin Scorsese Through American Movies” (which is a Bachelor’s Degree track), and culminating with “My Voyage to Italy” (Scorsese’s Masters program). Another place I have found much inspiration is in Roger Ebert’s Great Movies collection, which looks at film spanning every generation of cinema’s history up to his death in 2013. In terms of streaming services, few curate their selection better than The Criterion Channel, and few offer deeper cuts than Tubi. (HBOMAX also has a great selection of older and newer films, including the entirety of Studio Ghibli’s output.)
Film history may seem like work, and it may seem uninteresting on the surface, but if you look, even a little bit, you might find a new favorite film you never knew existed before. Take it from someone who knows what that’s like, and cherishes those moments above all else.
To close, here are 10 films I love that I’ve discovered over the years, and didn’t expect to appreciate when I first came across them. Immediately after watching them, though, I knew something was different about me. None of these were seen in theatres.
1. “Sherlock Jr.” (1924); My favorite film of all-time, and one I discovered through its exclusion from AFI’s first “100 Years…100 Movies” list, and recording it off of TCM in 1998.
2. “Stalker” (1979); Mentioned in a video review of “The Crow,” Andrei Tarkovsky’s sci-fi journey left an indelible imprint on me, and opened up my world to foreign films.
3. “Arsenic and Old Lace” (1944); Shown to me by my mother when I was a kid, Frank Capra’s frantic, funny dark comedy with Cary Grant has remained one of my favorite films of all-time over the years.
4. “Cat People” (1942); Another one mentioned alongside the AFI list, and recorded off of TCM, “A Personal Journey With Martin Scorsese” got me hooked on to this supernatural thriller, and the work of producer Val Lewton in general.
5. “Lady Beware” (1987); I found this ’80s erotic thriller during my “crush on Diane Lane” phase in 1997, and it’s been one of my prime guilty pleasures ever since.
6. “Haxan” (1922); One of the titles that stuck out to me most in my early discovery of The Criterion Collection, this striking silent horror documentary about witchcraft has been a horror movie staple ever since.
7. “In a Lonely Place” (1950); Nicholas Ray’s film noir about a screenwriter (Humphrey Bogart) in the middle of a murder investigation came into my orbit via the 100 Movies to See Before You Die book. It’s one of my favorite Bogart films.
8. “The Green Room” (1978); Roger Ebert mentioned this drama by Francois Truffaut in his Great Movies review of “The 400 Blows”- it’s been one of my favorites of the filmmaker’s ever since I saw it.
9. “Vernon, Florida” (1981); Errol Morris’s second feature, about a small town and its citizens, might have found its way in front of me anyway, down the road, but the ’80s All Over podcast made it one I felt like I needed to see right away, and I loved it immediately.
10. “The Lion in Winter” (1968); This Oscar-winning drama about familial drama among the royal family interested me because of the titular phrase, but has remained a favorite because of the ferocious performances and riveting drama.
What are some films you have discovered that you love? Comment below!
Viva La Resistance!
Brian Skutle
www.sonic-cinema.com
