5 GREAT BOOKS ABOUT MOVIES

Where would we be without Matt Cale?...

The Nashville Chronicles: The Making of Robert Altman’s Masterpiece



Jan Stuart

One of the few behind-the-scenes efforts that captures both a film’s daily grind and its place in a larger cultural context. Stuart documents the casting (Louise Fletcher nearly got Lily Tomlin’s part), the shoot, the script preparation, and Altman’s wise decision to let actors write their own songs in character, as well as improvise as only Altman’s actors can. Of course, breaking down a film into its dozens of different parts -- funding issues, location problems, lateness, gossip, on-set tensions -- can take away the romance of the finished product, but as Altman’s projects are like no other, the book serves as a primer on non-commercial filmmaking at its finest. Again, there’s a healthy amount of perspective here, both in terms of how the film was received at the time (the country music community hated it, due mostly to their inability to understand anything self-critical with a dash of sly wit), and what it continues to mean to the world of cinema, which for Stuart is a great deal.

Matt Cale's review of Nashville

A Cinema of Loneliness



Robert Phillip Kolker

At times resembling a PhD thesis, Kolker’s broad analysis of the reactionary Hollywood product of the 1980s (as compared to the liberating, alienation-themed films of the 1970s) is nevertheless an entertaining, intellectually sound examination of the cinema’s ability to reflect cultural moods and shifts. The best chapters discuss Robert Altman and Stanley Kubrick, demonstrating an understanding of their themes better than any previous (or subsequent) author. Kolker has nothing but contempt for Steven Spielberg as a social commentator (keep in mind this book was written before Schindler’s List), although he respects his Riefenstahlian ability to brainwash the masses with his well-crafted bullshit (his words, partially my sentiments). Only after reading this wonderful book did I come to appreciate Altman’s genius (remembering, of course, that Kolker and I had no idea that Ready to Wear was soon to come). Recent editions have replaced Arthur Penn with Oliver Stone, which makes sense as Penn hasn’t made anything (relevant or not) since Carter left office.

Easy Riders, Raging Bulls: How the Sex-Drugs-and-Rock ‘N’ Roll Generation Saved Hollywood



Peter Biskind

If you gave me the chance, I’d drive you crazy with endless chatter about the true Golden Age of cinema, which ran from about 1968 until Star Wars killed it with one clean shot in 1977. Author Peter Biskind shares my sentiments, although he’s much more of a good sport about it. Gossipy, outrageous, and sexy, Biskind’s book shows how, despite (or, in some cases, because of) rampant drug use and sheer recklessness, the generation of filmmakers that included Martin Scorsese, Robert Altman, George Lucas (before he lost his fucking mind), Francis Ford Coppola (see Lucas), and Hal Ashby changed the world, only to watch it burn with the rise of Reaganism. Here will you find Scorsese’s flirtation with death, Dennis Hopper’s violence, weekend marriages, and madness, and a sense that despite the hedonism, we’re never likely to see such a concentration of talent in this country again.

The Dream Life: Movies, Media, and the Mythology of the Sixties



J. Hoberman

While academic in tone, Hoberman knows his shit, and I’ve rarely been as involved with a book about the cinema. Hoberman wisely involves cultural and political discussions in his “reviews,” which helps us understand why, for example, Nixon watched Patton several times before invading Cambodia, and how at the time same time, M.A.S.H. spoke to the counterculture (and yet for my money, I’ll take Patton). Hoberman discusses vigilante pictures, blaxpolitation, the drug culture, Vietnam, paranoia, the sexual revolution, and the biases and prejudices of Left and Right that produced stunning cultural documents, as well as self-indulgent garbage that, thankfully, remains of its era. Too many dismiss the cinema as benign entertainment, but Hoberman shows us that from the streets to the White House, film was both reflecting and creating an entirely new way of imagining America.

Nobody’s Perfect: Writings from the New Yorker



Anthony Lane

If anyone has captured the spirit of the late Pauline Kael, it surely must be Anthony Lane. More than a mere critic, Lane believes reviews should speak to the surrounding culture itself, which means readers had better be prepared for a host of allusions, references, and witty asides. Lane not only has the ability to strike at the heart of why a film succeeds or fails (usually in nasty, pithy phrases), but he also deconstructs performances, style, technique, and theme in such a way that one knows he is spouting more than mere “opinion.” In addition to the exhaustive reviews (which are worth reading even if you haven’t seen the movie), the book includes numerous essays about directors, actors, celebrities, and the overall state of the art. Because of his confidence (which can be read as arrogance), he has also adopted Kael’s tendency to polarize, which is the standard for any critic worth his salt, after all, for who wants to a writer to inspire a casual indifference? That’s why we have Rex Reed.