The author presents a single image from each of 100 years of cinema, together with a short essay on both the still itself and what that image represents in terms of film history. His aim has been to encompass the many facets of film without reducing the book to an academic inventory of highlights.
Gilbert Adair was a Scottish novelist, poet, film critic and journalist. Born in Edinburgh, he lived in Paris from 1968 through 1980. He is most famous for such novels as Love and Death on Long Island (1997) and The Dreamers (2003), both of which were made into films, although he is also noted as the translator of Georges Perec's postmodern novel A Void, in which the letter e is not used. Adair won the 1995 Scott Moncrieff Translation Prize for this work.
In 1998 and 1999 Adair was the chief film critic for The Independent on Sunday, where in 1999 he also wrote a year-long column called "The Guillotine." In addition to the films made from his own works, Adair worked on the screenplays for a number of Raúl Ruiz films. Although he rarely spoke of his sexual orientation in public, not wishing to be labelled, he acknowledge in an interview that there were many gay themes in his work. He died from a brain hemorrhage in 2011.
One hundred two-page essays, accompanied by a still of the selected movie, intended to offer an alternate history of the cinema over the last century (ending in 1994—the book was published in 1995). Here are Gilbert’s choices:
1895 Workers Leaving the Lumière Factory 1896 The Kiss 1897 Fatima’s Dance 1898 The Battle of Manila Bay 1899 A Visit to the Spiritualist 1900 Grandma’s Reading Glass 1901 The Execution of McKinley’s Assassin 1902 A Trip to the Moon 1903 The Life of American Fireman 1904 The Great Train Robbery 1905 Rescued by Rover 1906 The Birth, Life, and Death of Christ 1907 The Channel Tunnel 1908 The Assassination of the Duc de Guise 1909 Gertie the Dinosaur 1910 A Tin-Type Romance 1911 Max Sets the Fashion 1912 Quo Vadis? 1913 The King of the Air 1914 The Perils of Pauline 1915 The Tramp 1916 Intolerance 1917 The Cure 1918 Tih Minh 1919 Broken Blossoms 1920 The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari 1921 The Sheik 1922 The Woman from Nowhere 1923 Our Hospitality 1924 Greed 1925 Battleship Potemkin 1926 Bardleys the Magnificent 1927 Sunrise 1928 The Man With a Movie Camera 1929 Money 1930 Other Men’s Women 1931 Freaks 1932 Trouble in Paradise 1933 Footlight Parade 1934 The Scarlet Empress 1935 Becky Sharp 1936 A Day in the Country 1937 Make Way for Tomorrow 1938 Bringing up Baby 1939 Daybreak 1940 Fantasia 1941 Citizen Kane 1942 Sullivan’s Travels 1943 I Walked with a Zombie 1944 Night and Fog 1945 Detour 1946 It’s a Wonderful Life 1947 Black Narcissus 1948 Rope 1949 Stromboli 1950 The Young and the Damned 1951 Rio Grande 1952 The Band Wagon 1953 The Robe 1954 Sansho the Bailiff 1955 Lola Montés 1956 Beyond a Reasonable Doubt 1957 Early Spring 1958 The Music Room 1959 Breathless 1960 The Testament of Orpheus 1961 Last Year at Marienbad 1962 Lawrence of Arabia 1963 The Nutty Professor 1964 Gertrud 1965 Blow Up 1966 Au hasard Balthazar 1967 Playtime 1968 2001: A Space Odyssey 1969 The Colour of Pomegrantes 1970 The Clowns 1971 Death in Venice 1972 Last Tango in Paris 1973 Cries and Whispers 1974 Céline and Julie Go Boating 1975 Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom 1976 Kings of the Road 1977 The Green Room 1978 The Hypothesis of the Stolen Painting 1979 Apocalypse Now 1980 Raging Bull 1981 Napoléon 1982 White Dog 1983 Querelle 1984 Zelig 1985 The Sacrifice 1986 The Green Room 1987 The Death of Empedocles 1988 Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown 1989 Do the Right Thing 1990 No, or the Vainglory of Command 1991 Raise the Red Lantern 1992 Unforgiven 1993 Jurassic Park 1994 Ed Wood
My favorite book on film. For the centennial of cinema, on each pair of facing pages, one still per year from 1895 to 1994 and some commentary. I should write more about this but there are so many great bits like why film noir was not really about despair, why Napoleon is not a masterpiece, and why White Dog was so great. There are some crazy bits too such as his belief, after Langlois, that silent movies should be shown in total silence. Since 1995, some things have changed, the most startling being that 1926's Bardelys the Magnificent, the film he takes as an example of a lost film, has since been found.
There is ingenuity, an intellectual uniqueness embedded in Gilbert Adair’s ‘Flickers’ that is both provocative and frustrating. The construct of this 1995 publication is a series of essays written by the British film critic Adair to celebrate 100 years of movies, wherein the author uses one specific still image from a film to act as the stimulus for his writing. It is, as stated at the beginning of this review, a statement of commendable paradoxical inventiveness. Accompanying this formative approach is Adair’s own extremely idiosyncratic choices and opinions. ‘Flickers’ is not a bog standard summary of who made what, where and when, and was it any good. No, this is a complex and highly personal text.
The problem is Adair’s focus on theory, on form, on thought can become irritating to the point of downright smug and/or opaque over-intellectualism. It’s understandable that a man of his stature as film writer would express himself in language and ideas beyond the ken of your amateur film reviewer who posts their thoughts on Rotten Tomatoes. However, there are occasions in this book where it’s hard not to yell at the pages “What a load of bullshit!”.
Take as an example this quote from Adair’s essay on the Mexican film; “Beyond everything else that has been said about Bunuel, beyond his surrealistco-marxistico-freudian abomination of social inequalities…” I’m sorry, but this is execrable prose. Adair finds it necessary to swamp far too many of his essays in this book with an almost masturbatory celebration of obtuse language. The reader ‘gets’ that the author knows a lot and thinks a lot about film. So why the need to produce such turgid prose?
What makes the previously cited example, and other sections of this book so much of a literary wank by Adair is that one can also find some amazingly clear and incisive thoughts on film, expressed with real imagination and control of language. IN his essay on Woody Allen’s ‘Zelig’ Adair concludes with this comment: “The only way, after all, to find out what a chameleon (Woody Allen) looks like it to set it down on top of another chameleon (Leonard Zelig).” This kind of statement is so spot on and it demonstrates not just Adair's understanding of the film and its creator, but also his command of language, of imagery, of rhetoric.
Perhaps one of the problems with 'Flickers' is that the essays are often written from the perspective of a critic bound up in the elitist construct of the auteur. There is a lot of merit in considering how the film director develops the artist vision in their work, and Adair sheets home so much of the responsibility for the creativity of each movie he discusses to that one man (and yes, it almost always a man) who invariably is a name the reader recognises. Griffth, Murnau, Laemmle, Sternberg, Kurosawa, Bunuel, Hitchcock, Lean, Godard, Renoir, Bergman, Minelli, Scorsese, Ray, Almodovar, Fassbinder etc; Adair's work is almost entirely about how these men created their cinematic vision, what their attributes are as artists, and how one can respond to them.
The problem is, through approaching the subject via the centrality of the auteur film maker, almost everything else has been excluded or minimised. The worst implication for this approach is that popular and populist film making is almost sneered at. The art of the single cinematic artist trumps the contributions of all the other people crucial to the movies' production. Entertainment and commercial success, two key elements of the nature of cinema, are almost entirely ignored or relegated to a minor annoyance. Adair writes about film as if they are to be deconstructed like a scientific conundrum, and in the process he kills a lot of the pleasure one would hope to find.
There are some meritorious aspects of 'Flickers' that deserve mention. Adair knows his stuff; he is not just a ranting ill-informed 'expert'. He also endeavours to explore film as a global artistic and cultural phenomenon and this offers a wider perspective on what cinema can be (though sadly there are no mentions of Australian movies). The first 30 or so essays are an interesting reflection on the silent era and Adair makes it obvious that the movies made before the advent of the talkies deserve more respect both as films but also as a separate art form.
Yet at its core 'Flickers: An Illustrated Celebration of 100 Years of Cinema" is a bit of a misnomer. The reference to celebration in the title indicates that Adair has tried to present what stirs his soul and heart when it comes to movies, what makes him come alive and laugh, cry or experience whatever emotions the movies might provoke. Instead he slams the reader over the head with obtuse and insistent intellectual dissertations that can, and all too frequently do, injure the reader's potential for celebrating film with him.
Focusing on motion picture images, the frame and the images presented within, Gilbert Adair’s informative reviews are honest and illuminating to someone like me who is still enriching their film history knowledge. The verbiage can be grand and overwhelming at times (who uses the word milquetoast?!) leaving me both in awe of Adair’s understanding of language and confused by what he means. I liked reading it in sections, digesting films by the decade and making notes in my watchlist. I disagreed at times, but appreciated Adair’s reflection. The cinematic comic in the lower quadrant of the page is a highlight.
100 شات فیلم که هر کدام نشان دهنده یک سال از 1895-1994 است. نثر آدایر به طرز لذتبخشی پربار و تا حدی تند است، یکی از کتاب های تاثیر گذار سینمایی که سبک و نوع مقاله اش، برای مثال در مورد روایت طناب وار کشتی روسی اثر سوکوروف برای خودم واقعا قابل توجه بود.
Gorgeous and idiosyncratic way of examining film history- Adair takes one still from one film for each of the first hundred years of cinema. High and chatty at the same time.