On Kubrick is a critical study of Stanley Kubrick's career, beginning with his earliest feature, Fear and Desire (1953), and ending with his posthumous production of A.I., Artificial Intelligence (2001). Organized in six parts ("The Taste Machine," "Young Kubrick," "Kubrick, Harris, Douglas," "Stanley Kubrick Presents," "Late Kubrick," and "Epilogue"), it offers provocative analysis of each of Kubrick's films together with new information about their production histories and cultural contexts. Its ultimate aim is to provide a concise yet thorough discussion that will be useful as both an academic text and a trade publication. The book argues that in several respects Kubrick was one of the cinema's last modernists: his taste and sensibility were shaped by the artistic culture of New York in the 1950s; he became a celebrated auteur who forged a distinctive style; he used art-cinema conventions in commercial productions; he challenged censorship regulations; and throughout his career he was preoccupied with one of the central themes of modernist art--the conflict between rationality and its ever-present shadow, the unconscious. War and science are often the subjects of his films, and his work has a hyper-masculine quality; yet no director has more relentlessly emphasized the absurdity of combat, the failure of scientific reasoning, and the fascistic impulses in masculine sexuality. The book also argues that while Kubrick was a voracious intellectual and a lifelong autodidact, the fascination of his work has less to do with the ideas it espouses than with the emotions it evokes. Often described as "cool" or "cold," Kubrick is best understood as a skillful practitioner of what might be called the aesthetics of the grotesque; he employs extreme forms of caricature and black comedy to create disgusting, frightening, yet also laughable images of the human body. No less than Diane Arbus (who was his contemporary), he makes his viewers uneasy, unsure how to react either emotionally or politically.
Is this some sort of biography? It does not look like, as Naremore injects his two bit remarks about Kubrik being the last whatever. Yet there are many biographical details that even those present would have a hard time remembering, yet this nobody vividly remembers.
And the text is so uselessly ornate with gratuitous remarks. p.68:
> In 1955, Kubrick and the alcoholic, forty-nine-year-old...
Is in any way relevant the guy is an alcoholic? Would anything change if the guy was 48 year old? Or 37?
The riddle of why I would return to higher education is impossible. I grew tired of the university atmosphere, which was having a near-lethal impact on me, and had tired of endlessly gnawing away at the same old rotten toothless subject — children’s cartoons. Now, with Kubrick though, I could make a glorious if unnecessary and pointless return. And with a director so overexamined, so analysed and scooped out by constant scrutiny, that he is now seen as a surface-level subject. I would be turning over the same old stones as everyone else, describing things we already know.
if there's one word I'd take away from this- "grotesque" - what does this mean, and why is it something primal to us, and that kubrick loves to exploit?
Naramore does a good job of dissecting Kubrick's films (skipping Spartacus, the only film where he did not exert much creative control). So many references to literature and other films - including Freud, and Joseph Campbell. These made me want to rewatch some of the films I haven't seen in ages.
The best moments in a Kubrick film always catch me somewhere between shock and laughter, and James Naremore's book does a great job exploring how emotionally unsettling these grotesque moments can be. Naremore also gives a solid summary of the trajectory of Kubrick's career and the nuances of his style, pushing back against the characterization of Kubrick as a cold and overly philosophical filmmaker.
A convincing argument against the prevailing notions of Kubrick's "cold" filmmaking through the grotesque, Naremore's critical study examines each the director's films (sans Spartacus) with the necessary scrutiny to combat opponents by unveiling the technical and artistic convergences to realize the depths of this precise auteur.
This is a comprehensive guide for anyone interested in Kubrick, though it offers more of a passing overview of his films than an in-depth discussion of them. The only way to read about individual Kubrick films must be to read individual studies rather than focus on the director as a whole. Naremore takes a decidedly positive look on Kubrick as a whole, though takes a interesting negative take on Full-Metal Jacket. His work on Barry Lyndon continues past an essential analysis of the film's technical aspects and and all-too-brief notation that the one truly emotion scene in Kubrick's ouevre occurs in the film, and into a less essential comparison of the film with the book. His analysis of 2001: A Space Odyssey is also very brief, though the film is much analysed. Otherwise, I found this a brilliant and fascinating guide, especially a last chapter on A.I. which brings in Bazin's thoughts on photography in relation to how it reproduces nature without tricks. There is also an in-depth guide to Eyes Wide Shut which I must get around to watching sometime soon.
The book's first section discusses some of the themes that can be traced through the director's entire body of work, and then the various sections of the book discuss the various phases of Kubrick's directorial career, examining each of his films in turn, in chronological order.
This is an excellent analysis of Kubrick's entire oeuvre, touching more on the director's thematic interests- Naremore looks at Kubrick's ideas as coming from a more intuitive and emotional standpoint as opposed to big, philosophical ideas that he is known for. Of particular interest is a chapter in which Naremore expounds upon notions of the grotesque in Kubrick's films.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating `'Tis some Kubrick there entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late Kubrick there entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and Naremore...'
For those of you, like me, who have spent way too many hours attempting to decipher the third act of 2001: A Space Odyssey (I mean really, what exactly is going on there?), this text will no doubt prove a great benefit.
Naremore is accessible in ways Kubrick never was. His scholarship is thorough and sound; his critical eye is as sharply focused as it is deeply penetrating.