GreenCine | article

In a time when the gulf between independent film and studio enterprise is seen as both vast and non-navigable, it would seem both useful and necessary to take a closer look at the origins of the medium and developments made by individuals early in its history. Susan Delson's poignant look at the life and work of Dudley Murphy, one of cinema's seminal talents, is both comprehensive and integral to the understanding of early American Film.

Dudley Murphy:
Hollywood Wildcard.
By Susan Delson.
272 pp. University of Minnesota Press.
$27.95.

Throughout the volume, Delson makes abundantly clear the need for a thorough re-examination of Dudley Murphy's contributions and innovations to a nascent art form. Her recognition of Murphy's status as a figure often overlooked by many experts on the subject of film history leads one to believe there is yet much to be discovered in the study of other not-so-heralded figures in the realm of cinema.

The biography serves as both metaphor and arc for the unfolding of the greater story of film in the 20th century. Murphy's exploits, projects, and relationships, both personal and professional (sometimes these cannot be separated), are all laid bare in the close reading of a life containing the triumphs and failures of a man who was inspired by his environment and who inspired his environment as well. Accounts of his connections to people like L�ger, Man Ray, Bessie Smith, a chance encounter with Ernest Hemingway, figures from the Algonquin Round Table, all seem to place Murphy in the eye of the storm of the inventive and creative drive of his time.

Revelatory sections on who should have been given credit for projects like Ballet mecanique, serve as reminder of a frontier-type mentality whereby the chaos of creativity and intermingling egos made only one thing certain: the film was made. Pulling understanding from the wreckage, piece by piece, seems to be Delson's way of granting respect and recognition to a man who may have been too professionally modest to do so himself.

While there is from time to time a sense of the cheerleader in the prose, no break from a drive towards objectivity ever occurs. In fact, there seems to be a constant mistrust of Murphy's own memoirs, which are periodically quoted throughout the book. Innovations such as the incorporation of music through the use of then-forming technology, and the gradual push towards narrative based films seem to go hand in hand with Murphy's life. The interpolation of Murphy's personal and professional life compose the structure of what stands to be a lively, sometimes ribald, constantly entertaining, but no less thought-provoking read.

Alexander Brinkman recently reviewed Eye of God for Guru.

Cinema by the Bay.
By Sheerly Avni.
272 pp. George Lucas Books.
$39.95.

Sheerly Avni is a woman after my film-loving, San Franciscan heart. Opening her new book Cinema by the Bay to any page brings utter delight as story and images combine to give an entertaining review of the major movie studios and filmmakers calling the San Francisco bay area their home and office. While the world was busy waiting for the next Hollywood blockbuster to break, writers, directors and producers calling the Bay Area their home, decided they couldn't.

Beginning with Francis Ford Coppola's American Zoetrope (Apocalypse Now, The Godfather) and moving down through an A-1 list of prominent area studios including, Lucasfilm Ltd. (Star Wars, THX 1138), Saul Zaentz Company (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Amadeus) and the brilliant and innovative CGI champions, Pixar (Toy Story, The Incredibles) and Pacific Data Images (Shrek, A.I.), Cinema by the Bay is a refreshing look at the rich and inventive history of film, with roots in San Francisco.

And those roots run deep, indeed. Without exception, directors such as Clint Eastwood, Chris Columbus, Wim Wenders and Paul Schrader - to name a few - have ties to this heritage. Rob Nilsson, the experimental visionary, based his 9@night film series in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco, and has for many years, been making cutting edge cinema in and around the heart of one of Americas most charismatic locales.

Avni lovingly profiles the films made by these landmark helmers with a sparkling tone that capably reveals an impressive collection of insider awareness. Over the course of 272 pages, she spiritedly details the backgrounds of the directors and their works. Additionally, most pages are adorned with amusing trivia and quotes from filmmakers, characters, and actors such as Walter Murch, Milos Forman and Jim Jarmusch. Even Jack Skellington get's his moment to shine.

Avni's book is beautifully illustrated with some 275 stirring and sometimes rare photographs, documenting the ingenious and significant talents connected to, and emanating from the Bay Area. It's no question that San Francisco has been a focal point for artistic and political expression since the late 19th century. But as of the past several decades, it's become a powerhouse of picture production rivaling Hollywood and giving the rest of the world a run for its money. Cinema by the Bay is an indispensable coffee table compendium to any film-lover's library, Bay Area resident or otherwise.

The Sundance Kids:
How the Mavericks Took Back Hollywood.
By James Mottram.
512 pp. Faber & Faber.
$27.50.

Scan the table of contents of James Mottram's The Sundance Kids and you'll see that it reads like a contemporary hot list of reputable directors you should know. Not only because of the box office clout many of them command, but also because of the high level of artistic integrity their works maintain. Mottram's book puts into context how Hollywood shifted its focus to commodifying independent cinema - for the good of us all - and embraced a slew of important filmmakers and writers including, but not limited to Wes Anderson, David O. Russell, Todd Solandz, Sofia Coppola and Charlie Kaufman.

For anyone interested in film, and especially independent film, this book offers engaging, informative and carefully detailed background on some of today's most intriguing American films and filmmakers. The crux of The Sundance Kids lies in tracing the initial drumfire of independent cinema to its ascendence. According to Mottram's collection of insider badinage and fervent observations, the turning point came in 1989, when Steven Soderbergh's sex, lies, and videotape won the Palm d'Or at Cannes, the Audience Award at Sundance and was nominated for a Best Original Screenplay Oscar.

From there, Mottram starts playing an amusing and insightful game of "six degrees of separation," starring Steven Soderbergh. Though Soderbergh doesn't actually have a hand in every film made in the last decade and a half, Mottram's book makes quite clear why Soderbergh is sometimes referred to as the "godfather" of modern independent cinema, as, in one way or another, he's contributed to some 30 films to date.

The title of the book is (quite obviously) no coincidence. The Sundance Film Festival has acted as the springboard from which films like Pulp Fiction, Rushmore and Dark Days have been flung. The Sundance Kids does a fine job of pointing out how the festival, having nestled itself nicely in a position opposite Cannes, has become one of the most capable and respected brokers of contemporary cinema in this age.

Most important, The Sundance Kids raises the question of whether independent cinema forced open the eyes (and wallets) of Hollywood commonwealth or was simply invited in as long as the films were collectively able to "feed the monkey." The answer may be elusive, but the story offers a keenly entertaining perspective on how indie film has indelibly shaped the landscape of American cinema.

When not busy as the Acquisitions Assistant at GreenCine, Calvin Souther is a freelance writer, musician and photographer.

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