Reading Pauline Kael's review of George Lucas and Steven Spielberg's cinematic milestone
The Raiders of the Lost Ark ("Whipped") some years ago I was surprised less by Kael's appraisal of the film (much of which I disagreed with, not that I expected much else) than the insightfulness of her appraisal of the
kind of film it was--a big-budget action movie of the kind that was then still a comparative novelty (especially for American filmmaking) but which we have since come to take for granted as the backbone of Hollywood production and the commercial and even artistic basis of the medium--and, too, what the making of the movie said about Hollywood circa 1981.
As Kael observes, the film, rather than telling a story building to a climax, gives us a long
succession of "climaxes" as, with only a fairly perfunctory narrative thread connecting them and little regard for logic (the plot at once ultra-simplistic, overfamiliar, and full of holes, presenting which the film "cuts corners and takes the edge off plot points"), the movie packs visceral thrills together so closely, tightly and efficiently together that, the movie's makers lingering on nothing, savoring nothing, they leave room for nothing else--character, dramatic tension, suspense, while the film even races through the funny moments Kael found its liveliest and cleverest. In the end the result can seem like a commercial for the movie itself ("an encyclopedia of high spots from the old serials, raced through at top speed and edited like a greater trailer--for flash"), which, for all the undeniable technical skill invested in putting it all together (indeed, the editing seemed to Kael so tight it was "as if the sheer technology had taken over"), fell flat for her as entertainment, never mind art. (
Raiders, she wrote, is "so thrill-packed you don't have time to breathe . . . or enjoy yourself very much," especially as the movie goes on and the audience gets thoroughly exhausted, even if the performance, which requires the movie to open with a bang and then keep topping itself, had not faltered by that point as it seemed likely to do.)
Kael's being so unimpressed with the movie seems important given that it leads her from appraisal of the film to the state of the film industry that produced such a movie--a "collapsing" movie industry where the marketing came first, with this not because of any "special effectiveness in selling pictures" they had (however much the marketing folks shamelessly claimed undeserved credit wherever they could), but rather their "keep[ing] pictures that don't lend themselves to an eye-popping thirty-second commercial from being made," or if such a film did happen to be made in spite of them, keeping those films from "being heard of" by the moviegoing public. Thus the movies that really needed a big marketing push to help them find an audience (and given their quality,
deserved that help) were deprived of such resources as all the backing went to the movies easiest to sell, namely movies made by directors, who, especially given their talent and integrity (Lucas "one of the most honorable persons who have ever headed a production company"), were sadly "hooked on the crap of [their] childhood[s]" like "old Saturday afternoon serials," and equally "hooked on technological playthings and techniques." Indeed, Kael closes the rather lengthy essay with the observation that Lucas,
whose then still novel attentiveness to the quality of the Star Wars-brand toys she remarks, is ultimately "in the toy business." Meanwhile, "anything to do with people's lives belongs on TV," such that this is where one goes for intellectually and emotionally more satisfying fare.
Thus Kael, after laying out
just how the action movie works (if in rather a sour fashion), very neatly summed up how a financially pressed Hollywood seized on the logic of
"high concept" film dominated by simplicity and striking visuals, the way in which it this elevated a certain kind of blockbuster (oriented to action, pace, spectacle, youthful and childhood nostalgia above all else, often as artistically empty as it is technically accomplished), marginalized other kinds of films, and increasingly relegated old-fashioned human drama to the small screen in a way that not only stands up very well four decades later, but feels very contemporary--those critics who actually dare to be critical essentially saying the same things over and over and over again, such that much of what Kael wrote could as easily have been written this week as when she actually wrote it, before most of the filmgoers in this country were even
born.* Indeed, for all my disagreements with Kael's broader outlook and her assessment of
Raiders (Criticize that magnificent score? How dare you, Madam!), I would strongly recommend Kael's essay to anyone taking an interest in high concept filmmaking, the "poetics" of the action movie, or the history of Hollywood since the
"New Hollywood" era--the more in as,
as Hollywood flounders amid a crisis far more severe than what it faced in the 1970s, with the strategies it adopted then these days in doubt, it seems an excellent occasion to gain the perspective offered by such a backward glance, and the contemporary commentary dominated by Hollywood's
courtiers and
claqueurs offers little to compare with it. I also recommend the review as a reminder of just how very, very good this major figure of her era could be when she was at her best, even in this very late and less celebrated phase of her career.
* It seems to me notable that Pauline Kael, in discussing all this, did not once reference the James Bond films that were an important inspiration for both Lucas and Spielberg in the early part of their careers--the regrettable omission pretty standard in discussion of Hollywood's embrace of the action film.
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