Posted: Wed Jan 23, 2008 12:32 am
The Power of Film and Its Influence, a speech given by director Norman Jewison, is really worth reading for anyone interested in the film and society.
http://www.empireclubfoundation.com/det ... echID=1976
Here's an excerpt, but the whole article is quite good.
As a Canadian, I have always felt we could view, more objectively, the problems that face our American neighbours. I became fascinated in the early fifties with the Americans' almost paranoic fear of communists. They became hysterical at the very mention of Marx or Lenin. Communists were under every bed and behind every script. All Russians were communists and therefore evil and not to be trusted. The more I thought about this overreaction, the more the humour of the situation began to appear.
Then, by chance, I read a paperback called The Off-Islanders by Nat Beuchley. It was not a very good book. Not even that funny. But it did have a marvellous and unique idea. Beuchley, who lives on Nantucket Island, based his story on what would happen if a Russian submarine got stranded accidentally on a local American sandbar.
I loved the situation. It was full of visual images and smelled of satire. I would tell the studio executives this hilarious story about a bunch of Russians landing in a remote village on the American coast, and everybody panics and thinks it's an invasion. The first studio group just sat there stunned, then made a move which looked suspiciously like a violent gesture, so I ran from the office. The next studio executive muttered something about "Commies aren't funny" and that the whole idea sounded subversive to him. Some agent in the local press heard about my intentions to contact some Russian actors and immediately branded me as a Canadian Pinko. At that point, it looked like The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming would never reach the screen.
The next problem was the submarine. The U.S. Navy contact for the film industry felt the script put the Navy in a bad light. So, anyway ... no co-operation or sub from the U.S. Navy. I tried the Russians, but they wanted to change my script. The Chilean government and the Canadians were both interested in renting us a sub but we would have to move the location of the picture. Finally, we decided to build one. So, with plywood, styrofoam, some World War ii armament, and lots of black paint, we built a 180-foot vessel that would float, sail at eight knots, and carry a full crew of Russian sailors. So what if it moved like a porpoise in heavy seas; in the harbour it looked great.
The film was a labour of love. We spent over four months isolated in a tiny community miles from any major city. But we all knew we were making an important film. It was not really just a comedy. It was a film about war and peace. It was about the fears and suspicions of one people for another because of a lack of communication and a surfeit of political propaganda. It was a film that dealt with the absurdity of international conflict. It was about love and hate and honour and real courage. It was our plea for international understanding. I made the film for Russians and Americans. I wanted them to see each other honestly revealed as 1, a Canadian, saw them.
Those were my reasons for making that film. In general, a film takes almost two years out of my life. Therefore, I could
not commit myself to this idea too easily. The statement the film made was important enough for our first screening to be held in Washington with the Vice-President of the United States as our guest of honour, and an assemblage of ambassadors, senators, and diplomats, including Senator Kennedy. It was gratifying for this Canadian to witness the effect the film had that night on that particular group.
When the general audience also responded well to the film, the Russian ambassador asked for a print. We sent him one which promptly disappeared for some months. Later, we learned it was screened in the Kremlin six times and at every Russian Embassy in Europe. They loved it.
Later that year, we opened the Berlin Film Festival - a thousand yards from the Wall - and Willy Brandt told me this would do more for American-Russian relations than any speeches about peaceful co-existence by political figures. A month later, I was invited to Moscow. After the film was screened at the Soviet Film Workers Union, many of the audience burst into tears. That was the moment when I realized the importance of film and its power to communicate ideas. It was a deeply moving discovery. So, those were my reasons for making The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming. I hope it didn't look like a message picture. Films must entertain, grip the audience, and totally suspend belief for that short time we are together in the darkness. If they fail, they have no audience. A film without an audience, playing to an empty theatre, is not a living thing and it will end up as just another forgotten can on the shelf (ask any Canadian producer). This is the true standard by which the success of a film should be judged.
The power of television is its mass audience. I spent nine years in live television and found myself always struggling with network officials, advertising agency executives, and the sponsors themselves as to creative content of the programs. With hardly a single exception, their interests had nothing to do with responsibility to the viewer, with truth, with improving the artistic level of programming, with self-criticism.
Indeed, we witnessed the television industry in the United States actually become a mere extension of Madison Avenue and the advertising interests. CTV may have the glitz and hot American shows, but thank God for the CBC. I guess I had good training at the BBC and CBC, because in all those years of directing television, I never shot or was involved in one commercial.
When I turned to film as a new form of expression, I was determined to continue this struggle for artistic freedom. My first four films at Universal were compromised in many ways by pressures from various individuals and groups. Because the film studios, distributors, and exhibitors are all primarily interested in gross, the dollar once again becomes the criterion for success. Everyone wants a hit. A blockbuster. Jaws I, Jaws 2, Jaws 3, Rocky 1,2,3 - can you imagine making a sequel to Ordinary People or Terms of Endearment Revisited? During the last few years, many American filmmakers have begun to assert more creative control over their films in an attempt to produce films of quality. It's a tough struggle; a lonely, and never-ending defensive action. But occasionally, one gets the opportunity to make a film of content and substance.
http://www.empireclubfoundation.com/det ... echID=1976
Here's an excerpt, but the whole article is quite good.
As a Canadian, I have always felt we could view, more objectively, the problems that face our American neighbours. I became fascinated in the early fifties with the Americans' almost paranoic fear of communists. They became hysterical at the very mention of Marx or Lenin. Communists were under every bed and behind every script. All Russians were communists and therefore evil and not to be trusted. The more I thought about this overreaction, the more the humour of the situation began to appear.
Then, by chance, I read a paperback called The Off-Islanders by Nat Beuchley. It was not a very good book. Not even that funny. But it did have a marvellous and unique idea. Beuchley, who lives on Nantucket Island, based his story on what would happen if a Russian submarine got stranded accidentally on a local American sandbar.
I loved the situation. It was full of visual images and smelled of satire. I would tell the studio executives this hilarious story about a bunch of Russians landing in a remote village on the American coast, and everybody panics and thinks it's an invasion. The first studio group just sat there stunned, then made a move which looked suspiciously like a violent gesture, so I ran from the office. The next studio executive muttered something about "Commies aren't funny" and that the whole idea sounded subversive to him. Some agent in the local press heard about my intentions to contact some Russian actors and immediately branded me as a Canadian Pinko. At that point, it looked like The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming would never reach the screen.
The next problem was the submarine. The U.S. Navy contact for the film industry felt the script put the Navy in a bad light. So, anyway ... no co-operation or sub from the U.S. Navy. I tried the Russians, but they wanted to change my script. The Chilean government and the Canadians were both interested in renting us a sub but we would have to move the location of the picture. Finally, we decided to build one. So, with plywood, styrofoam, some World War ii armament, and lots of black paint, we built a 180-foot vessel that would float, sail at eight knots, and carry a full crew of Russian sailors. So what if it moved like a porpoise in heavy seas; in the harbour it looked great.
The film was a labour of love. We spent over four months isolated in a tiny community miles from any major city. But we all knew we were making an important film. It was not really just a comedy. It was a film about war and peace. It was about the fears and suspicions of one people for another because of a lack of communication and a surfeit of political propaganda. It was a film that dealt with the absurdity of international conflict. It was about love and hate and honour and real courage. It was our plea for international understanding. I made the film for Russians and Americans. I wanted them to see each other honestly revealed as 1, a Canadian, saw them.
Those were my reasons for making that film. In general, a film takes almost two years out of my life. Therefore, I could
not commit myself to this idea too easily. The statement the film made was important enough for our first screening to be held in Washington with the Vice-President of the United States as our guest of honour, and an assemblage of ambassadors, senators, and diplomats, including Senator Kennedy. It was gratifying for this Canadian to witness the effect the film had that night on that particular group.
When the general audience also responded well to the film, the Russian ambassador asked for a print. We sent him one which promptly disappeared for some months. Later, we learned it was screened in the Kremlin six times and at every Russian Embassy in Europe. They loved it.
Later that year, we opened the Berlin Film Festival - a thousand yards from the Wall - and Willy Brandt told me this would do more for American-Russian relations than any speeches about peaceful co-existence by political figures. A month later, I was invited to Moscow. After the film was screened at the Soviet Film Workers Union, many of the audience burst into tears. That was the moment when I realized the importance of film and its power to communicate ideas. It was a deeply moving discovery. So, those were my reasons for making The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming. I hope it didn't look like a message picture. Films must entertain, grip the audience, and totally suspend belief for that short time we are together in the darkness. If they fail, they have no audience. A film without an audience, playing to an empty theatre, is not a living thing and it will end up as just another forgotten can on the shelf (ask any Canadian producer). This is the true standard by which the success of a film should be judged.
The power of television is its mass audience. I spent nine years in live television and found myself always struggling with network officials, advertising agency executives, and the sponsors themselves as to creative content of the programs. With hardly a single exception, their interests had nothing to do with responsibility to the viewer, with truth, with improving the artistic level of programming, with self-criticism.
Indeed, we witnessed the television industry in the United States actually become a mere extension of Madison Avenue and the advertising interests. CTV may have the glitz and hot American shows, but thank God for the CBC. I guess I had good training at the BBC and CBC, because in all those years of directing television, I never shot or was involved in one commercial.
When I turned to film as a new form of expression, I was determined to continue this struggle for artistic freedom. My first four films at Universal were compromised in many ways by pressures from various individuals and groups. Because the film studios, distributors, and exhibitors are all primarily interested in gross, the dollar once again becomes the criterion for success. Everyone wants a hit. A blockbuster. Jaws I, Jaws 2, Jaws 3, Rocky 1,2,3 - can you imagine making a sequel to Ordinary People or Terms of Endearment Revisited? During the last few years, many American filmmakers have begun to assert more creative control over their films in an attempt to produce films of quality. It's a tough struggle; a lonely, and never-ending defensive action. But occasionally, one gets the opportunity to make a film of content and substance.
). The others were for films appropriate to the audience who would go to watch the film. There is a new film called "Doomsday" about a killer virus that ravishes London, there's that "10,000 BC" movie about to come out and they did a small blip for the "Star Trek" movie due out in 11 months.