Book Review: Farber on Film Part 1: "The Gimp" and Its Implications on Contemporary Cinema

by Tony Dayoub

Every film writer today should pay particularly close attention to Farber's essay, "The Gimp" (written for Commentary in 1952), one of four landmark essays editor Robert Polito singles out in his introduction to Farber on Film: The Complete Film Writings of Manny Farber (824 pp. Library of America $40.00) as "B-movie-steeped, careering slams of the 1950s and '60s" that gave Farber some measure of "notoriety as a film critic." In it, he warns the reader of the "Gimp," derived from a string lady golfers used in the Victorian era to raise their hem ever so slightly when preparing to hit the ball. He proceeds to apply this concept to fifties cinema:

Something like this device has now been developed in Hollywood. Whenever the modern film-maker feels that his movie has taken too conventional a direction and is neglecting "art," he need only jerk the Gimp-string, and—behold!—curious and exotic but "psychic" images are flashed before the audience, peppering things up at the crucial moment...

His subsequent takedown of such now-venerated films as Sunset Boulevard (1950) and A Place in the Sun (1951) can be quite shocking to today's film aficionados. But it also reminds one that it is the victors that write the history books. Twenty, thirty years from now, won't it be Slumdog Millionaire—last year's flash-in-the-trash winner of the Academy Award for Best Picture—which will be remembered over the far superior Synecdoche, New York, which received nary a nomination? One doesn't even need to go back that far to see a good example of this. Go back to 2007 and scratch your head when you wonder why David Fincher's Zodiac continues to be ignored by all but the most informed movie-lovers. But I digress...



The point is that "The Gimp" is quite a relevant essay at this particular point in 2009, when film writers start determining their best of 2009 lists, or for that matter their best of the 00s; when Hollywood starts getting its "For Your Consideration" ad campaigns together; when theaters start exhibiting its Oscar-bait films that seem to have something important to say (some try to say it before you even sit your ass in the theater—Precious Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire anyone?) but don't know how to do it without hitting you on the head. "The Gimp" speaks to this, and film writers should heed its warning:

The Gimp is the technique, in effect, of enhancing the ordinary with a different dimension, sensational and yet seemingly credible. Camera set-ups, bits of business, lines... are contrived into saying too much. Every moment of a movie is provided with comment about American society. "Original" characters are sought, the amount of illogical and implausible material is increased, to such a point that movies which try to be semidocumentary actually seem stranger than the Tarzan-Dracula-King Kong fantasy.

Farber so convincingly breaks down the contrivances set up by filmmakers, he even manages to zing this writer with one of his favorite films 1951's A Streetcar Named Desire by pointing out the manipulation behind one of this writer's favorite performances, that of Marlon Brando as Stanley Kowalski:

...the hero, a sharp-witted Polish mechanic, conveys heavy passion by stuttering the first syllables of his sentences and mumbling the rest as though through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, a device that naturally forces the spectator to sociological speculation; disgusted with the fact that the hero has apparently been raised in a pigpen, the spectator is impelled to think about the relation of environment to individual development. Tennessee Williams's hero is getting ahead in his work, is a loving husband, makes "those colored lights" with his sexual genius, and is possessed of a delicate moral sensitivity. But all these bourgeois attributes have to be matched with their opposites for the sake of excitement, and so [director Elia] Kazan pulls his [Gimp-]string and you see the Polack slobbering, licking his paws, howling like a troglodyte, hitting his wife so hard that he sends her to the maternity hospital, playing poker like an ape-man, exuding an atmosphere of wild screams, rape, crashing china and drunkenness. And to make sure every two-year-old will understand how bad life is in this Grimm's fairy-tale hovel, Kazan hammers his point home with continual sinister lights, dancing shadows, gaseous oozings.

Farber's cranky expressiveness is so persuasive in its description of Brando's performance (as directed by Kazan, he keeps reminding you), by the time one gets to the final line of the paragraph and he says "every two-year-old," one realizes he is the two-year-old to which Farber is directing his diatribe. See? Farber is not above pulling his own Gimp-string when necessary.



To contemporary audiences, more so than his 1952 readers, the most astonishing aspect of the essay is how Farber utilizes Citizen Kane (1941), of all films, to drive his point home. This essay is surely one of the earliest ones to praise Welles' film, even with a backhanded compliment like this one:

Citizen Kane and its Gimp-effects were generally laughed off by high-brows in Hollywood and elsewhere...But one had the feeling, during the war years, that, as Hollywood turned out dozens of progressively more realistic action films... it was more than a little concerned with what Welles had done in the symbolic enriching of a movie through florid mannerisms.

And what are these "florid mannerisms?" Why some of the techniques that have become standard in today's cinema: dark cinematography, unusual camera angles, deep-focus photography, worm's eye views, flashbacks, fragmented storytelling...

...mismated shock effects that had never been seen before in Hollywood... The spectator had trouble arranging these disparate items into a convincing visual whole, but his brain was mobilized into all sorts of ruminations about avarice, monomania, and other compulsions. Even the devices for moving the story along were complicating and interrupting...

Farber's conclusion?

There were certain dramatic high points like the rough-cut in the "March of Time" projection room, the kid outside the window in the legacy scene, and the lurid presentation of an electioneering stage. But in between these was a great deal of talk, much less action, and almost no story.

One could easily mistake such words about the Welles' landmark film as damning, but Farber is really just saying, sure, it worked great in Kane, and the film was innovative, but the cult of Hollywood filmmakers that sprung up around the film has learned the wrong lessons from it. He goes on to lament the virtual extinction of the naturalistic film, wondering if Hollywood will ever "be able to go home again."



Are there any Hollywood filmmakers currently out there, eschewing the use of the Gimp in their films? Maybe because I just reviewed Public Enemies, the type of B-movie Farber might have championed, Michael Mann, with his attempts at verisimilitude through his use of the digital camera and emphasizing action over expository dialogue, strikes me as a rather obvious example. What filmmakers can you think of that aspire to stay clear of Farber's Gimp?

Book Review: Hammer Glamour

Hammer Glamour by Marcus Hearn (160 pp. Titan Books $29.95) profiles fifty of Hammer Films' most famous beauties. It is a paean to the lovely starlets that populated not just their well-known horror flicks but also their comedies, prehistoric action romps, and more. The book is frank in its glimpse into the publicity machine that selected these women, developed their sexy personas for appearances in one or two films, then dropped them in favor the next fresh face.

Interview: Author Mark Cotta Vaz on STAR TREK The Art of the Film

by Tony Dayoub



Earlier this week, I reviewed the lavishly illustrated STAR TREK The Art of the Film, which was released yesterday. I had the opportunity to ask its author, Mark Cotta Vaz, a few questions about what it takes to put a book like this together.

Book Review: STAR TREK The Art of the Film

by Tony Dayoub

Coinciding with tomorrow's home video release of one of 2009's most surprising film successes (both critically and financially) is the debut of a handsome coffee table book that illustrates the movie's fantastic art design, STAR TREK The Art of the Film by Mark Cotta Vaz (160pp. Titan Books $29.95). Full disclosure: I am a longtime Star Trek fan, so I've really been looking forward to this book. Trek was what inspired me to explore cinema. And starting back in 1980, I began collecting Simon and Schuster's occasional books on the making of the series, its movies, and subsequent spinoffs. Their best volumes for someone interested in the filmmaking process—like I used to be—were the ones that avoided any puff-piece promotional angles, and instead, went for transparency. I'm talking about books like The Making of STAR TREK THE MOTION PICTURE, The Making of STAR TREK DEEP SPACE NINE, and STAR TREK PHASE II The Lost Series. These books didn't pull any punches when it came to discussing failures at any stage of the process, and demonstrated how such failures could often become learning experiences for the Trek production team. J.J. Abrams acknowledges his own trepidation when it came to rebooting the venerable science fiction franchise in the new book's foreword. He states he was conscious of how he "might have—and probably already had—screwed it all up." But Abrams avoided any such pitfalls by relying on his production design team, led by Scott Chambliss. Author Cotta Vaz and Titan Books have also avoided any missteps, emulating those old Simon and Schuster books by thoughtfully fashioning a gorgeously illustrated book that celebrates every step of Star Trek's design, from genesis to execution and beyond.

Writings on Cinema

I've always meant to talk about this, and thanks to MovieMan0283, of The Dancing Image, now I get my chance. In discussing books that have influenced his exploration of cinema, he tagged me to do the same, saying:

In his fairly regular comments on this and other blogs, Tony utilizes a strong sense of history and a passion for context in discussing a given film. I'm curious as to where this information came from; and for whatever reason, I have trouble guessing his favorite books (except, of course, for Guide for the Film Fanatic, which he explicitly mentioned earlier today when responding to my Great Movies post...).

I post this quote because it speaks to the way I look at all film. If one looks at cinema as art, whether its a crappy flick like Drop Dead Fred (1991) or a shining instance of world cinema like The Conformist (1970), then one must never forget to look at it in context. Art does not exist in a vacuum, and so, neither does cinema. A cinematic work is an expression influenced by the forces extant at the time of its creation. It is always a reaction to the current politics, economy, cinematic movements, or artist's biographical circumstances. Often times, this reaction does not reveal itself to the film's creators. It can even evolve with the passage of time. Hindsight has definitely changed the regard for many a film, and still continues to do so. But it is a rich area for those of us who "read" films to mine. So in perusing the documents that I've chosen - because they have held the greatest sway over the way I look at movies - consider that all of these have something to offer in the way of contextualizing cinema. Guide for the Film Fanatic by Danny Peary (1986) - This is the book that never leaves my side. Better known for his Cult Movies book series, Peary is into sports writing now (he is a writer-researcher for The Tim McCarver Show), but I just found some recent film-related posts by him at Brink. Film Fanatic has a bit of a cult following around the intertubes, and with good reason. Peary's concise reviews are illuminating in a scholarly way while excising the pretentious language that readers often get mired in when reading a journal. His often quirky takes on well-dissected classics may sound eccentric at first, but he is usually able to back up his claims with some persuasive points. Here's his take on Taxi Driver (1976):

Film is a reworking of John Ford's The Searchers, with De Niro assuming John Wayne's Ethan Edwards role. Again we have a war veteran, a social misfit, an outcast, who is obsessed with rescuing a young girl (after failing to rescue a young woman) from her long-haired lover - although she is happy where she is - in order to purify his own soul (on the pretext of purifying the girl's soul). Like Ethan, he was on the non-victorious side in what he believes was a war of liberation. That's why they are so fanatical about liberating young girls from foreign camps.

And his humor can be devastatingly acute, evident in his very positive - yet mildly sarcastic - review for The Terminator (1984):

Still, the film has appeal to the soldier-of-fortune crowd and guys who like to crush beer cans on their head. They consider the Terminator their (fascist) hero, enjoy the spectacular gunplay, and are aware that the film is punctuated by pain.

Peary's best quality is to treat all films democratically. Be they the cult films he specializes in (Pink Flamingos), porn flicks (Deep Throat), or canonical cinema (Citizen Kane), all merit a slot in his book - which covers over 1600 titles. Film Comment (1990-2000) - Though I still pick up the occasional copy (the latest one has a great piece on Jarmusch's The Limits of Control by Kent Jones), the high point in this journal's lifetime is the 10 years in which Richard T. Jameson was the editor. Published by the Film Society of Lincoln Center, the issue pictured above (July-August 1991) is a great example of the quantity of greatness one could find in each square inch of this seminal magazine. Here's a short rundown of some of the stories found in this issue's pages: An analysis of Delusion (1991) by Donald Lyons; a tribute to Billy Wilder by Andrew Sarris; an exploration of Graham Greene by David Thomson; a Brando appreciation by Richard Schickel; Nestor Almendros on Sergei Eisenstein; Scanners' Jim Emerson on Hanna Schygulla. And I only randomly picked this issue up from my basement. Under Jameson's watch, the magazine's annual roundup of the best films and notable performances (as put forth by numerous critics polled) was frequently upstaged by "Moments Out of Time," a roundup of the best cinematic moments of the previous year, by Jameson and Kathleen Murphy (both now contribute to Parallax View) which they now publish over at MSN Movies. The 100 Best Films to Rent You've Never Heard Of by David N. Meyer (1997) - Well, the title may be a bit of an overstatement if you are a serious film buff. The style in which the book is presented, in which each film is sub-categorized by attitude and mood, is a little too EW for me (Meyer, in fact, did write for Entertainment Weekly). But the films recommended in this book are spot-on in terms of their cult appeal. From foreign classics like Godard's Contempt (1963) to American neo-noir like Mann's Thief (1981), his choices run the gamut of cinematic genres. And he focuses on details others miss, as when he discusses the latter film, "Caan's thief is as American as can be: He distrusts language, derives his identity from his work, and has a chip on his shoulder the size of Mount Rushmore." Currently Meyer posts film reviews at The Brooklyn Rail. Adventures in the Screen Trade by William Goldman (1983) - Academy Award-winning screenwriter Goldman describes how one should approach screenplays:

I write screenplays to be read. So does Jo Jo, The Dog Face Boy, obviously. What I mean is that, from the very beginning, I've tried to make my screenplays reading experiences, much like a book or play. So I don't mess around much with intricate camera instructions. (At least i don't think I do. I talked to a star once who said, "You goddam screenwriters - putting in all that camera crap - trying to direct the picture is all you're doing. I hate all that camera crap. Just put down the words, I'll do the rest." I later had occasion to read a screenplay this star had done. It was so full of "camera crap" you could throw up.)

Goldman's sage advice, dishy anecdotes, and practical writing instruction merge to form a helluva read. And makes you long for the days when screenwriters were actually conversant with the English language rather than just spitting out reconstituted scenes from films they have watched. Easy Riders, Raging Bulls by Peter Biskind (1998) - Did I say Goldman was dishy? Biskind, a former executive editor at Premiere and former editor in chief of American Film, offers more gossip in one page than Goldman does over the course of his entire book. Some may have a problem with this, but I find it relevant to establishing the evolving mores of the time while covering the close camaraderie of the film school generation:

Brian [De Palma] brought his friends over, and others came as well. On any given weekend, [Actress Jennifer] Salt found herself cooking for De Palma, [Steven] Spielberg, [Peter] Boyle, [screenwriter Jacob] Brackman, John Milius, Richard Dreyfuss, director Walter Hill, Bruce Dern, writer David Ward, and so on. Even [Bob] Rafelson occasionally came to the beach. They grilled steaks, ate spaghetti, tossed salads. Recalls Salt, "I was always thinking, Should it be chili and the three-bean salad and the cheesecake, or should we barbecue chicken - Oh, Steven doesn't like it when I cut up zucchini in the salad, Marty [Scorsese] likes the chili - that was where I was at. I cooked for these boys, gave lots of parties, made them take drugs and take their pants off and get down." Adds [Margot] Kidder, "The reality was that we always got the drugs and we always got the food and we basically served our guys, the whole time putting down the notion that we as women would do that. There was a real contradiction in what we perceived ourselves to be doing and what in fact we were doing."

Enlightening and gripping, Easy Riders brings the seventies American film movement into focus by revealing how the changing times left their mark on the new Hollywood. Pictures at a Revolution by Mark Harris (2008) - In the age of "New Media," where trained journalists are losing ground to many of my fellow bloggers - some of who are quick to print unsubstantiated rumors - EW writer Mark Harris' book stands as a paean to the rewards of good research. His meticulously footnoted volume looks at the beginning of the New Hollywood through the prism of the Best Picture-nominated films of 1967, the year in which many say the release of Bonnie and Clyde launched "the seventies" if not literally, then in spirit. Here, Harris sets the record straight on Pauline Kael's "discovery" of the film:

Kael's statement that "the whole point of Bonnie and Clyde is to rub our noses in it, to make us pay our dues for laughing," her understanding that "we don't take our stories straight anymore - Bonnie and Clyde is the first film demonstration that the put-on can be used for the purposes of art," and her awareness of the "eager, nervous imbalance" in which the movie intended to hold its audience all seemed uncannily in synch with the intentions of Robert Benton and David Newman. It was no accident. Though she didn't disclose it in the piece, she had taken the screenwriters out to lunch before writing her essay and gotten an earful of their motives, their admiration for the French New Wave, and their storytelling strategy. Her remark that "though one cannot say of Bonnie and Clyde to what degree it shows the work of Newman and Benton... there are ways of making guesses" was deeply disingenuous but very much in line with her pooh-poohing of "the new notion that direction is everything." Unsurprisingly, she made it clear that she didn't see the movie as Arthur Penn's accomplishment, although she praised him for the staging and editing of the dance-of-death sequence, which she called "a horror that seems to go on for eternity, and yet... doesn't last a second beyond what it should."

Pictures at a Revolution is a great book to read before you move on to Easy Riders, Raging Bulls. Catching the Big Fish by David Lynch (2006) - Here we get a glimpse into the artistic mind, from a film director whose very impenetrability seems to be part of his allure. Through his exploration of transcendental meditation, and the effects it has had on his own creativity, Lynch reveals tidbits of interest to any of his longtime admirers. On his first film:

Eraserhead is my most spiritual movie. No one understands when I say that, but it is. Eraserhead was growing in a certain way, and I didn't know what it meant. I was looking for a key to unlock what these sequences were saying. Of course, I understood some of it; but I didn't know the thing that just pulled it all together. And it was a struggle. So I got out my Bible and I started reading. And one day, I read a sentence. And I closed the Bible, because that was it; that was it. And then I saw the thing as a whole. And it fulfilled this vision for me, 100 percent. I don't think I'll ever say what that sentence was.

Well the guy has to preserve some of his mystery. But who knew the Bible had ANY influence on Eraserhead. A quick read, this seeming trifle ends up being deeper than it looks. Anyone can join in with their own lists, either on their own sites or the comments section. Please link to myself and The Dancing Image if you follow up with a list at your own site. I would like to tag the following folks: Campaspe the Self-Styled Siren who, in all honesty, I'm most excited about if only to find out where she gets so many of her wonderful Old Hollywood anecdotes from. Ed Howard at Only the Cinema. Ed is a prolific writer, and I'm willing to bet, an avid reader. Fletch at Blog Cabins, because I can never predict what his reaction to a movie will be. Sometimes it's right in line with mine. Other times he is on the opposite side of the spectrum. Jon Lanthier at The Lanthier Powerstrip, whose eclectic tastes and articulate form of expressing himself always lures this writer to his site. T.S. at Screen Savour, a silent movie and Hitchcock devotee that has an astute sense of what goes into great cinema, regardless of genre or era.

Movie Marketing Review: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

by Tony Dayoub


The Indiana Jones franchise, while loved by many, appeals to adults more than Star Wars (1977), which is a lot more kid-friendly on its face. Nineteen years since the last Indy film, all the kids that knew him have grown, and the character had dropped out of the public eye to a larger degree than Star Wars ever did. Many of them have started to share the first trilogy with their children, and George Lucas and company have helped merchandise Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull to new heights by cashing in on both the generational nostalgia, and on educating kids specifically on who this adventurous archaeologist is.


Lucas pioneered movie merchandising when Star Wars debuted. It wasn't that the market hadn't been explored before. Movie serials and TV shows aimed at children in particular had always used cheaply produced tie-ins such as decoder rings and the like to promote themselves. But Lucas was smart enough to control the rights, likenesses, and require quality of said products. He realized that the right products, produced with care, could ultimately be as profitable, if not more so, than the actual movie it was tied to. And the release of such products, timed to the release of his films, would serve to market the film, as well as maximize revenue for those involved.

To that end, this new movie has seen marketing its take some curious forms. With licensing deals that include displaying Harrison Ford's likeness on everything from Kellogg's cereal boxes to Dr. Pepper cases, perhaps the most clever was when Blockbuster and Lucasfilm sponsored Marco Andretti in this year's Indy 500 (get it?) which was run the same week as the film's opening. Not only did the car have the Indiana Jones logo prominently displayed, but Andretti wore a race suit designed to mimic the archaeologist's now famous outfit.

Here are some notable products designed to appeal to the older crowd:


Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull Soundtrack, by John Williams - If you want to relive the movie without actually going to see it again, or even if you didn't like the movie, but you love John Williams' music, one thing's hard to argue. This soundtrack is great. Not only does he revisit themes from previous movies like a revisit of the Raiders' "Ark" theme in "The Spell of the Skull", but he creates new ones like "Call of the Crystal" and "Irina's Theme". Just as Williams patterned the original trilogy's score on the old movie serials' scores that those films paid homage to, here he pays tribute to fifties movies by evoking one of that era's most prominent composers, Bernard Hermann. "Call of the Crystal" is a theme that recalls Hermann's opening theme for Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo. And Williams combines variations of "Crystal" and "Irina's Theme" to great effect in "Jungle Chase", elevating one of the weaker chase scenes in the film. Released by Concord Music Group, look for them to release a 4-disc set containing the original trilogy's long out-of-print soundtracks, just in time for Crystal Skull's DVD release, no doubt.


The Complete Making of Indiana Jones: The Definitive Story Behind All Four Films, by J. W. Rinzler and Laurent Bouzereau - This 300 page trade paperback contains a wealth of information on the film series. With just about all the major cast and crew participating, it traces the series from its inception through its newest film. Rich with color photographs (including some spoilery ones of the latest film, so don't buy the book till you've seen it), it even covers some of the lesser known aspects of each film's production (the mine-car chase scene from Temple of Doom was actually a holdover stunt from Raiders). Rinzler is a historian at Lucasfilm, and Bouzereau is a documentarian primarily known for his making of featurettes on all of the DVDs of Steven Spielberg's films.

Products targeted specifically to kids include The Lost Journal of Indiana Jones (below, left), a book designed to acquaint kids with any adventures they may have missed, LEGO playsets capturing famous action setpieces from each film (center), and a new game by LucasArts entitled LEGO Indiana Jones: The Original Adventures (right) for Nintendo DS, Wii, XBox 360, Playstation and PC.






Here are some other products designed for appeal to kids:

Indiana Jones Action Figures, by Hasbro - Designed to lure kids who are into Hasbro's popular Star Wars line, the detailed figures might instead spark a nostalgic interest from their dads. It certainly has with this dad. Having the original Raiders figure spec references at their disposal (Hasbro bought Kenner a while back), the line should fill the void left by Kenner who failed to capitalize on Raiders' appeal to kids. The original film wasn't designed to appeal to children, but became popular with them after their dads dragged them along to see it. And fill the void they have, already producing waves of figures based on Raiders, Last Crusade and Crystal Skull, with Temple of Doom just announced. Highly poseable for maximum play, but accurate in its likenesses with collectors in mind, this product should appeal to both parents and children. If the Star Wars line is any indication (with new figures still being released annually), the Indy line may be around for a while, too.

Indiana Jones: The Ultimate Guide, by DK Publishing - Older kids might be familiar with DK's Ultimate Guide line already. They get some well known character/s from pop culture and create an encyclopedia like reference book filled with the character's history, timelines, maps, and color art. Just like Superman, the X-Men and James Bond before him, Indiana Jones has finally got one as well. While a little light on info about the newest film, it covers everything you'd want to know about Henry Jones, Jr.'s life, from his birth, through his adventures in the Young Indiana Jones TV series, through the trilogy, and even beyond into graphic novels and books. For those looking to fill the gap between The Last Crusade and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, this book's got the goods.

Skeptical of the current popularity of an action franchise that has been absent for close to two decades, naysayers underestimated the nostalgic allure of Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. With a current worldwide gross of over $700 million, against a budget estimated at $185 million, an estimated marketing budget of $150 million, plus the cut that exhibitors take for playing the movie in their theaters, only now is the film even close to breaking even for Paramount Pictures. But the ancillary deals have already started to pay off for Paramount, Lucas, Spielberg, and anyone else contractually in for a piece of the pie.

Book Review: Avengers: The Initiative - Best Superhero Comic for Old and New Fans

by Tony Dayoub

Marvel Comics, home of Spider Man, Captain America, and the Hulk, has just been through a civil war.

After the nuclear destruction of a town, due in large part to the intervention of an inexperienced super team, Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, suggests superheroes register with the government. This will ensure that they are properly trained and registered as "dangerous" if their powers cannot be controlled. Captain America, libertarian idol to most of these superheroes, disagrees. He thinks that government control will easily be misused in the wrong hands, hands like government agent Henry Gyrich's. Heroes, led by the government-backed Iron Man, are then pitted against the revolutionary heroes, following Captain America, as everything is laid waste between them. Cap ultimately surrenders in order to avoid further destruction, leading to his assassination as he is being led to trial.