Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Blu-Ray Cinephilia



Movies and books are my sole clustering vices as a collector (whiskey, thankfully, does not take up that much room, nor linger for long). At the same time, though, Blu-Ray is another reminder of how difficult it is to “own” a film—the perfect sound, the perfect image, the “total” cinematic version of a film, feels increasingly out-of-reach with each new platform that proclaims the highest clarity and resolution yet (“owning” a film’s ideas and themes, meanwhile, is another equally problematic matter). Indeed, one problem which haunts cinephilia today is the potentially self-destructive obsession with personal ownership, the idea that films belong to, or exist to serve, an individual.

There is no question that the advent of Blu-Ray and high-definition home theatres has changed what it means to be a cinephile. If we take cinephilia to be, to have always been, a certain kind of technophilia—a love of the medium’s technical potential, which is inseparable from its artistic identity—then it’s hard not to appreciate the stunning clarity of image which these two innovations provide to the attentive cinephile. It is not “film,” of course, but it is what film was trying to be.

Even on my modest 37’’ inch widescreen at home, details emerge that I’d never seen in movies before. Theatrical images, even 70mm or IMAX footage, may have the greatest potential for clarity to the viewer, but that sharpness always seems lost in the old (generally mechanical) projection, even or possibly especially on the biggest possible screens. Honestly, watching a movie on Blu-Ray, or even just a high-definition “live” broadcast of a movie on television, at home is generally-speaking a more satisfying image of clarity than the pictures I catch at the local multiplex, whose blurriness is counterbalanced only by its considerable size, the nostalgic ritual of old-fashioned theatre-going, and the ephemeral community that is a large movie audience.

Since I began watching movies on Blu-Ray last summer, my sense of cinematic perception has unquestionably been altered. For the first time, I see the blurry corners, edges and lines around objects and people in regular DVD movies presented on a BR player, its imperfectly reproduced image now maxed out; I can see the faint spots of compression in HD television shows and movies on a regular television, its visual potential unfulfilled; theatrical presentations, which of course I would never for the world give up, nonetheless contain a certain fuzzy layer of smudge that frustrates my eyes.

Of course, this is all relative in the larger histories of film and home viewing technologies. I can remember having some of the same reactions to watching VHS in the late 1990s after a few months of compulsive DVD consumption. And perhaps in another decade, I will feel the same way about Blu-Ray. Yet I have also felt at times that certain films, on the new format, have come as close to ideal as they may achieve—that moment when the imperfections of the captured image, which stayed hidden on VHS, television and DVD for so long, have now become as glaring and as haunting as the perfections.

Such high-definition cinephilia is perhaps the closest we’ve come to a virtual approximation of Christian Keathley’s crucial theory for the cinephile: panoramic perception, “the cinephile's defining mode of vision.” The eye wanders, glancing across the HD widescreen image, taking in all the small details of the frame suddenly drawn into being by the power of high definition digital imagery. This new technology intensifies the cinephile’s “fetishizing of fragments of a film, either individual shots or marginal (often unintentional) details in the image, especially those that appear only for a moment.”

Blu-Ray embraces the whole frame, and may even, one can hope, usher in a new era of Bazinian patience after decades of an obsession with various forms of montage—to once again let reality come back to the camera. I am not criticizing montage, but Blu-Ray reminds us what potentially the wide, wandering frame can still show us.

3 comments:

Bob Rehak said...

Intriguing thoughts, Jason. I too went through a recalibration of my movie-perceiving system when I started watching Blu-Ray and other 720/1080 content. I agree that such upgrades also force revisions of cinephilic understandings -- and interesting side question, given the inescapable material substrate of the medium, is to what degree cinephilia and technophilia are separable. But I'd add that the prior viewing modality, whatever it may be, is just as crucial to the equation; in other words, our response is not so much to Blu-Ray as some reified "breakthrough" as it is to the newly apprehensible ratio (and discrepancy) between BR and DVD. And just as surely as sons follow fathers (and in turn become fathers themselves), Blu-Ray will one day become the dingy, imperfect standard against which some new and shining transcendence announces and defines itself.

Adam Zanzie said...

Hi, Jason.

I found your blog after I read your 2004 essay on Kubrick's Fear and Desire online. Job well done. Definately the best piece of film criticism I've read on that film (though, of course, it's one of the few that I've read- seeing as how so few have actually seen the film).

Looking at some of the other posts here, I absolutely agree with you about the haunting effectiveness of A.I. and the unique cinema of P.T. Anderson. You have a great talent for being able to put your admiration for these films into exceptional wording.

jason sperb said...

Thanks, Adam, for the kind words and for dropping a note. A lot of people stumble over here but don't take the time to say hi.

The Kubrick essay isn't too bad--I like the version I revised for a chapter in my Kubrick book a little better, since it takes up more scholarship and refines the argument a little.

You're right that there's not too much out there on F&D, at least not five yrs ago, which was probably the last time I did any real Kubrick research. Paolo Cherchi has a very good essay too, but its not available free online.