Hollywood – From Vietnam To Reagan… And Beyond
Robin Wood/Columbia
University Press (Book Review)
Rating: A
In 1986, one of the most important volumes on cinema was
released. Robin Wood’s Hollywood –
From Vietnam to Reagan was a landmark, examining the rise, fall, and
reconstruction of Hollywood as a filmmaking entity. More specifically, it dealt with exceptional, challenging films
that the studios usually do not make, or independent films they rarely support.
It took seventeen years, but an updated volume that adds “…
and Beyond” to its title, and it leaves the original text virtually
untampered with. New sections are
added, beginning with an excellent 33 page Prologue, then offers four new
chapters. The best way to tackle this
book is to go chapter by chapter.
Prologue (2003) – Wood discusses his personal and
political side in a way he wishes he did more explicitly in the last volume,
though his sexuality was not omitted from the original volume where
applicable. When he starts talking
about the state of the world, it feels somewhat like Michael Moore and Ralph
Nader. In this, he discusses the
greatness of the composer Janacek, then gets back to cinema. He discusses how bad filmmaking has become
in the hands of corporate-ownership of the studios that hires the non-filmmaker
to produce product. He is correct. Then he accurately goes into how audiences
are mindlessly accepting the surreal as real, especially in the Action
genre. His comments of John
Frankenheimer’s Ronin and Doug Liman’s the Bourne Identity are
well put. He also talks about directors
who would have had big careers even a few years ago, but committed the crime of
making films that were too good, so they are not heard from widely again, if at
all. Spike Lee rounds out this section for
the most part, being one of the last truly challenging directors to establish
himself before things got so bad.
Steven Soderbergh also gets covered.
Cards on the Table – This first chapter spells out
the various, conflicting ideologies that the book and film studies in general
take on. This did not need any
updating.
The Chase – Flashback 1965
(Chapter Two) – This is a great chapter on how Arthur Penn’s thriller tried to
break all the roles, only to have Columbia Pictures take it out of his hands and
turn it into something it was not. The
film, however, is the first sign of the beginning of a New Wave in American
cinema. A few years ago, I accidentally
caught some garbage on TV from some Religious Right program on Hollywood that
showed a clip from this film, with the narrator saying ominously how “Hollywood
started experimenting” as if filmmaking was recreational drug use or some
Frankenstein experiment. These people
could care less about cinema, knowing very little about it, so they obviously
had picked up the first edition of this book.
Smart Ass and Cutie Pie – Notes Toward The Evaluation of
Altman (1975) (Chapter Three) – Of course, the director and year refer
to one film, the mighty Nashville, one of the greatest cinematic
achievements ever. Wood uses that as a
take-off point to deal with all of Altman’s films, including one’s in his mode
of filmmaking directed by others. This
endures wildly, but I am disappointed that Wood did not expand on the director
here.
The Incoherent Text – Narrative in the 70s
(Chapter Four) – In one of the greatest distinctions that can be made about
cinema, Wood makes the difference very clear between a film that is incoherent
because it is badly made, and one that is working at a much higher level and
does not come neatly together. Examples
of the latter include the Paul Schrader-penned Taxi Driver (1976),
directed by Martin Scorsese, Richard Brooks’ Looking for Mr. Goodbar
(1977), and especially William Friedkin’s Crusing (1980). This is some of the most innovative writing
about complex filmmaking ever written.
The American Nightmare – Horror in the 70s
(Chapter Five) – Through issues of psychology and sexuality, Wood discusses how
the Horror genre was in a peak time, but that there was still a split between A
and B-movie films in the genre. The
original 1974 Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Omen (1976) in
particular are used to show the dichotomy.
The chapter also covers a history of the genre in brief, in its roots,
influences, and what makes it tick.
That is then expounded upon in…
Normality and Monsters – The Films of Larry Cohen and
George Romero (Chapter Six) – This is the chapter that “runs with it”,
demonstrating why these are two of the most important directors in and out of
the Horror genre. This then runs into
issues surrounding Vampire cinema, but the chapter can only go as far as early
1985. The new version picks up on this
one in Chapter 14. This is very strong.
Brian De Palma – The Politics of Castration
(Chapter Seven) – Besides adding how great De Palma is with the two directors
of the previous chapter, this is the number one document that proves that he
was not just good at imitating Alfred Hitchcock, but was doing something with
that by pushing the boundaries, picking up where Hitch left off. Especially great are his analyses of two of
De Palmas’s very best films: Sisters (1973) and Blow Out
(1981). He has plenty more to say,
making this one of the best chapters.
Papering the Cracks – Fantasy and Ideology in the Reagan
Era (Chapter Eight) – This chapter goes after the worst of
George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, questioning the “feel good” film and
exposing the myth of how “creative” there films really aren’t. It then wraps up with a stunning analysis of
Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner. Too
bad this was not updated to include the new trilogy of Star Wars films
or Spielberg works like the third Indiana Jones film, A.I., Minority
Report, and Catch Me If You Can.
Not addressing the serious trilogy of Spielberg films, Schindler’s
List, Amistad, and Saving Private Ryan makes what should be
inarguable, arguable. There are no more
(and no new) words on Spielberg or Lucas in the rest of the book.
Wood does manage to make a note of the 1992 “director’s
cut” of Scott’s film, but he was not aware at press time of the rumors of an
even better cut in the horizon, so this edition could not avoid missing out
there.
Horror in the 80s (Chapter Nine) – The decline of
the Horror genre thematically is covered here.
Wood shows its regression into formulaic “slice & dice” films. Beyond the murders becoming more graphic and
sadistic beyond the character’s intent (i.e., hack filmmakers), he delves into
the difference between a liberated society and a permissive one. This is the time where the promiscuous must
die, yet the killer(s) never do, no matter how much you kill them. This formula has become somewhat of a joke,
but it has not faded away yet.
Images and Women (Chapter Ten) – This one covers
Feminism in Hollywood, best defining Wood’s distinction between two realisms:
one being actual realism, and the more sinister, artificial version that is
used to mask and disguise ideology in film.
He starts by analyzing Paul Mazursky’s An Unmarried Woman (1978)
and Martin Scorsese’s Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974). As a counter to those, he then exposes how
woman-hating Clint Eastwood’s Bronco Billy (though some of this might be
about his eventual, bitter break up with co-star Sandra Locke) and James
Bridges’ Urban Cowboy (1980) are, with other problematic Debra Winger
films (Taylor Hackford’s An Officer and a Gentleman (1982) and James L.
Brooks’ Terms of Endearment (1983) thrown in for good measure. It wraps up with a look at women directors
and uses four of their films as examples: Lee Grant’s Tell Me a Riddle
(1980), Amy Heckerling’s Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982), Joan
Micklin Silver’s Chilly Scenes of Winter (aka Head Over Heels,
1979, from the director who later gave us Crossing Delancey and Loverboy),
and Claudia Weill’s Girl Friends (1978). Considering the time that has elapsed between volumes, the
advances for women directors have been few, so this is a fascinating read.
From Buddies to Lovers (Chapter Eleven) – In a
continuing thesis of genre in film, Wood examines the “buddy” film cycle of the
late 1960s, running into the late 1970s with its logical culmination in Michael
Cimino’s The Deer Hunter (1978).
Then, Wood addresses the films that were more explicit, yet more
oppressive about Homosexuality, namely Arthur Hiller’s Making Love
(1982). I am surprised by the absence
of that film’s somewhat independent forerunner, A Very Natural Thing
(1973, reviewed elsewhere on this site) and that the new edition does not
address the Gay New Wave in any way.
His ideas about its successes and failures would have been a great
addition.
Two Films by Martin Scorsese
(Chapter Twelve) – Raging Bull (1980) and The King of Comedy
(1983) are looked at more closely, in both respect to their gender issues and
psychology. This also inadvertently
proves how viable Scorsese was in this period, contrary to what many lesser
critics have tries to say.
Two Films by Michael Cimino
(Chapter Thirteen) – The unlucky number marks what was the final chapter in the
original book, not only outlining the brilliance of The Deer Hunter, but
also successfully revising thought on Heaven’s Gate. It shows that the film was partly attacked
for ideological reasons, how film critics have absolutely failed the artform
ever since, and why the longer cut would actually make sense. Wood spectacularly demonstrates how innovate
Cimino was being with narrative structure, how he was taking multi-layered
filmmaking to the next level after Nashville. Some of his points on Heaven’s Gate can still be refuted,
but I was most surprised that he did not update information on the film. As the first edition of this book was
issued, Steven Bach’s Final Cut – Dreams and Disaster in the Making of
Heaven’s Gate was issued and became a bestseller at the time and has also
been issued in updated editions. Wood
does not address the 5 hour, 25 minutes-long version of the film, erroneously
believes a 3 hour, 40 minutes-long version premiered in L.A., when the
screening of that shorter version was cancelled. That shorter cut is the so-called director’s cut form the out-of-print
LaserDisc and DVD issued since the first edition. The theatrical edition in 1980 was more like two hours long.
However, despite all this, the chapter is a classic in telling the tale of why
great Hollywood filmmaking stopped.
Day of the Dead – The Woman’s Nightmare
(Chapter Fourteen) – This first new chapter picks up where Chapter six left
off. Wood declares this third of George
Romero’s Zombie films remarkable and uses the occasion to attack the true
mindlessness of Hollywood today. I was
surprised he did not rave too about Romero’s Monkey Shines (1988), but
more on that later.
On and Around – My Best Friend’s Wedding
(Chapter Fifteen) – Wood turns out to be very impressed by P.J. Hogan’s huge
hit film and its similar predecessor, Muriel’s Wedding (1994). This is a relevant piece about gender study,
the state of women in society, and the differences between screwball and
romantic comedy today, but this is all surprisingly subtle for such a radically
innovative book as his. I also have to
say that this now the point in the book where I least agree with him.
Teens, Parties, and Rollercoasters – A Genre of the 90s
(Chapter Sixteen) – Wood examines and even celebrates the teen films of the
past decade known for their “gross-out” dynamic. He does trace them to better films like Bob Clark’s Porky’s
(1983), Fast Times at Ridgemont High, and even Michael Lehmann’s Heathers
(1989), but that does not make them any more interesting. He does go through the gender politics and
discusses the failure of the education system, especially Universities moving
away from the Arts, but he misses more important films. I was expecting something in terms of
unfinished business with John Hughes’ Weird Science (1985), the Home
Alone phenomenon Hughes created, and especially the brilliant Martha
Coolidge film Real Genius (also 1985).
There are a few surprises, like how Peyton Reed’s Bring It On
(2000) defied the trend, though the book was too late to incorporate Reed’s
underrated Down With Love from May/June of 2003.
Hollywood Today – Is an oppositional cinema possible?
(Chapter Seventeen) – This new final chapter feels more on track and in line
with the original book, examining filmmakers like Paul Thomas Anderson, David
Fincher (he hits the nail on the head about Fight Club), and Jim
Jarmusch. He also notes the daringness
of Spy Game (2001), even if he is not happy with Tony Scott, but makes a
bizarre omission. He also notes Training
Day (also 2001) in the same section, which he even likes better, but
inexplicably fails to credit the director: Antoine Fuqua. In his zeal to talk up some good directors,
how could Wood miss this? Denzel
Washington even mentioned him by name when he got his Academy Award for that
film! This epitomizes the patchiness I
experienced reading the new sections of the book. There always seems to be something missing here and there,
sometimes glaringly so. It is still a
better book with the additions, but then there are other considerations.
Two reason I think Wood may have went into the direction
he did has to do with the success of the quarterly magazine CineAction, for
which he is an editor. Also, he may
mistakenly thinks continuing on about directors like Kubrick, Scorsese, Altman,
Spielberg, and not even mentioning Oliver Stone is fine, likely because of
Robert Phillip Kolker’s A Cinema of Loneliness is doing that. Released in three editions (1980, 1988, and
2000), the film is as brilliant as Wood’s book here. That’s no reason to not put in his two-cents worth on these filmmakers.
There also seems to be too long a period of time between
the two editions, in which other films fell through. In particular, two films vital to text in the original book are
forgotten, both released in 1985:
Michael Cimino’s Year of the Dragon and William Friedkin’s To
Live and Die in L.A. Essays on both
appear in the same Summer/Fall 1986 issue of CineAction, but should those works
not been updated here? Wood wrote the
Cimino analysis, while Richard Lippe and Florence Jacobowitz wrote the Friedkin
piece. The magazine has even done great
genre issues on Horror and Screwball Comedies.
The lack of cutting-edge films versus celebrating a gross-out cycle and
commercially over-known comedy plays counter to Wood’s valid complaints about
how bad films have become.
Wood states that he was not political enough in the last
book. I do not know if that’s the case,
as it was bold enough to get the Religious Right to quietly notice, hopefully
shaking them up. He is not, to his
credit, politically correct. His observations
on film are some of the most important and original ever. Even with my issues of direction for the
book, it remains one of the most important volumes ever written on cinema and
is a vital must-have.
- Nicholas Sheffo
