The literary theorist and academician Stanley Fish has published his list of the ten best movies of all time.
Fish is well-known as a powerful advocate of a controversial and somewhat confused set of literary assumptions that accept some of the premises of post-structuralism while entirely contradicting that approach with his acceptance of the notion of authorial intent as defining the meaning of a text.
Fish’s work is always interesting and though-provoking, though it is clear that it would be even more useful if he were to pursue more fully his differences with post-structuralism and its odious offspring, multiculturalism.
As befits his status as a controversialist and cultural agent-provocateur, Fish’s list is rather eccentric but quite charmingly traditional. My list of the ten best films of all time would not include any of those on Fish’s list, but his choices are largely defensible. Even more importantly, Fish’s consideration and appreciation of the emotional effect films create is invigorating and constitutes a very important corrective to the two competing approaches to cultural criticism of our time, structuralism and post-structuralism.
—S. T. Karnick
It’s true, Bob, that these lists are typically compiled as a means of cultural warfare. However, I think it’s therefore good for our side to do them as well, as such lists are a convenient way of engaging readers’ attention. An essay by Fish on how ’40s movies worked would not be nearly as widely read as this list was, I reckon.
And boy do I agree with you on the Maisie films. Ann Southern is immensely charming in them, and the values the films express are all very solid and good. The Maisie films are not great art, just as you say, but they are nonetheless good for the soul, just like the Andy Hardy films.
I like most of the movies Fish nominates, and in a couple of cases love them. But an emotional response doesn’t necessarily make for great films, or great books, or great compositions, or great anything artistic. (Fish, proponent of Reader-Response theory, would probably have a different view.) So many people, having come out of a movie house, will say, “What a great film,” when what they really mean is, “I really liked that film.”
I myself am not a snob about films. A couple of days ago, for instance, I spent the better part of a day watching some old “Maisie” movies on TCM. The movies, part of a series that came out in the ’40s, aren’t much but Ann Southern as Maisie is so delicious in them, so funny and full of spunk, that I can’t resist her. I will watch Maisie movies in preference to many films that I know quite well are superior and often very superior. None of the Maisie movies would ever be on my ten best list.
Actually, I’m opposed to these lists, even with defenses. They are often the occasion of snobbery. They often contain great works of art, but the compiler–even if composed of a committee–wants public recognition of taste and aesthetic insight. Several years back, a paper or publisher (I forget which) put out a list of the best hundred modern novels. The number one novel was James Joyce’s Ulysses. I can well imagine all the people who went out and bought this book and took it home, wanting to taste the delights of high culture–only to find it incomprehensible. What is the purpose of such an exercise? In my view, only to draw a line between the literati and the hoi poloi.
Not very edifying.
Bob
Yes, I think the values of the pre-Code “naughties” were indeed sound, especially in comparison with subsequent decades. Although some risque material was presented, it was seldom done in a way that undermined the values of the time, which were still rather traditional.
Like many cultural works of our time, the more risque material then was typically used to reinforce decency, morality, and bourgeois values and show their importance, not press for a transvaluation of all values.
“I would argue that the ’20s and ’30s were the best time for motion pictures in the United States, even given the relatively primitive technology of the early sound era.”
Sound, I think, was both a blessing and a curse for the film industry. A blessing in the long run and a curse in the short one because of the hampering nature of early sound recording techniques. Hard to believe Sunrise and The Jazz Singer were released the same year.
“Your choices of the ’40s and ’50s are fully defensible from standpoint of production quality, but in terms of the values and ideas the movies projected–which is always my greatest interest–the ’20s and ’30 are far, far superior in my view.”
Even the pre-code naughties? (I for one have always found the Code to be a shame, though not for the same reasons most modern film buffs do)
Excellent points, Fortunato. I quite agree that Fish is a significantly better, more knowledgeable, more understanding, and ultimately fairer critic than A. O. Scott. The Times editors are missing a superb opportunity to ameliorate some of the awfulness of the decrepit Gray Lady.
Your point about the ’80s looking like a lost paradise compared with the subsequent years is funny and sadly true.
I would argue that the ’20s and ’30s were the best time for motion pictures in the United States, even given the relatively primitive technology of the early sound era. Your choices of the ’40s and ’50s are fully defensible from a standpoint of production quality, but in terms of the values and ideas the movies projected–which is always my greatest interest–the ’20s and ’30 are far, far superior in my view.
I wrote about one such difference in my articles about Blind Alley and The Dark Past, and I think the difference noted there is emblematic of an abrupt and severe change in national values that became increasingly evident in subsequent decades until it overcame all opposition and created the social and cultural morass of the 1960s and ’70s.
That said, I think all four of the decades from the ’20s to the ’50s should be any real film enthusiast’s promised land.
Thanks for asking, Mike. I’d very much like to do that, and will try to get to it as soon as possible.
I don’t think any serious film critic would dispute that the forties and fifties were the golden years of American filmmaking. The silent era admittedly produced some outstanding stuff (most of which DVD companies and TV channels executives won’t let you see) and the thirties rocked, but the 40s and the 50s are the real thing. What followed is the story of a long decline, as Hollywood lost touch with its audience and never resolved whether it should do art, entertainment or both. The “New Hollywood” of the 70s made for some exciting, groundbreaking viewing but proved a dead end. The eighties marked the beginning of the end, though the two decades that followed make them smack of Paradise Lost in comparison. So I think Fish’s choice in focusing on older films is justifiable, notwithstanding the anger of some of his readers. It’s not just nostalgia, it’s plain fact.
Other than that, I think Fish would make a much better film critic than the NYT’s own A.O. Scott. I may not agree with all of his choices, but you can sense a real love of motion pictures there, which is what the job should be all about.
Sam:
You wrote:
“My list of the ten best films of all time would not include any of those on Fish’s list, but his choices are largely defensible.”
I, for one, would love to see your “ten best films” list — with defenses.
Are you up for it? 😉
Best regards,
Mike