I’ve read about two dozen of these BFI Film Classics books and, while some are stronger than others, this is the first time I’ve been disappointed in one. The writer clearly didn’t get the job description, and for some reason, no editor at BFI stepped in to prevent this mess.
These books are limited to about 100 pages, so the author must be efficient. This author, however, spent over 40 (!!) pages summarizing the film scene-by-scene. I saw the movie, thanks, so I didn’t need this. Maybe this would be a reasonable way to begin a 500-page treatise on the film, but that’s not the assignment. And it’s not what we get. Because the remainder of the book is a disorganized bunch of thoughts about the director and his OTHER films, and other directors and their films, and some uninteresting trivia about the actors, the production process, etc.
Buried in all of that is about 14 pages discussing the director’s unusual approach to scene cuts. I did find this interesting, but even this was not discussed in a satisfactory way (i.e., disorganized, and not really evaluating what the director was trying to do, or how well it worked). I figure I paid well over a dollar a page for the only 14 pages that were worth reading.
What I really wanted to get out of this book was an explanation for a scene near the end of the film when a certain pair of political figures inexplicably appear in this story that has, until then, focused intently and nearly exclusively on two (intensely) private individuals. Guess I’ll be looking elsewhere for that.
It’s quite a shame, because I loved the film, yet this book actually made me think less of it.
This book is a stain on the reputation of this series, and I hope that BFI will not allow this to happen again.