Tokyo Drifter (Seijun Suzuki 1966)
Even a radical film director who wished to portray crucially important social developments like the merger of two industrial concerns could only do so by showing us the dominant figures in the office, at the conference table or in their mansions. (Adorno 1991: 57)In Jason Mittell's brand new book Narrative Theory and Adaptation. (sic) there is a section discussing ideological film criticism. He had this to say:
In brief, theories of ideology strive to understand how cultural forms like popular cinema work to maintain dominant power relations, ranging from economic inequality to norms of race and gender. The crucial insight of ideology theory is that popular culture works to normalize the status quo and make the dominant systems of power invisible and unquestioned, integrated into a viewer's common sense and outlook on the world. Film scholars have explored how conventions of filmmaking, from industry structure to norms of narrative and style, work to reinforce dominant ideology in both overt and subtle ways. (p. 124)That reminded me of this prominent part of film theory/criticism and how peculiar it is, in different ways. To some extent ideological readings of art works is as old as art itself, but the kind which has been the dominant one the last century is based on Marxism. There have been different strains of Marxist theory in the west during the 20th century, some of it interesting and productive, some of it embarrassingly inadequate and unrealistic, and quite a lot unpleasant because of its intimacy (and celebration of) the homicidal totalitarianism of, especially, Stalin and Mao. But at the heart of much of these theories was a question that might be expressed like this: "Marx promised us a revolution but it did not come. Why is that?" Instead of blaming flaws in Marx's writings many of these thinkers and critics instead blamed popular culture, not least films, which allegedly kept the masses down; pacified them and lured them into not overturning their governments. It is sometimes difficult to say where the Marxist theory ends and a conspiracy theory begins, and sometimes they overlap. (Not surprising perhaps considering Marx himself was a conspiracy theorist rather similar to Joseph McCarthy (including seeing Russian spies everywhere) as Jonathan Sperber discusses at some length in his impressive Karl Marx: A Nineteenth Century Life.) This is of course not to say that all Marxist critics and scholars are like this. The variety of Marxist thinking is large and some of the best critics of cinema have also been Marxists, with a much more positive view of humanity and the potential and value of mass culture. But there is a long tradition of the negative kind and it became especially prolific in the 1970s, not least due to the influential writings of Louis Althusser.
Haneke's opposition to Hollywood's cinema of manipulation can thus be seen as a call for alienation in the Brechtian sense of Verfremdung: as an attempt to tear the realities shown on the screen from the shadow of their 'being-so' into the light of their 'having-been-made-so.'" (Metelmann 2010: 168)But this idea of the importance, even supremacy, of form strikes me as misguided and completely inadequate. For one thing, form and content must surely work together for there to be a given result. A Nazi propaganda film that uses distancing effects will not have the positive effect that Brecht and others had in mind. When people talk about the Verfremdungseffekt they will usually mention some film by Godard (especially Tout va bien (1972)) or Michael Haneke as examples, but if these films in themselves did not directly attack certain political and social issues in the society in which they were made, the distancing devices would not really matter. (Or Hellzapoppin' (H.C. Potter 1942) would have caused more riots and revolutions than any other film.) The opposite of this kind of film is usually said to be mainstream Hollywood, but there are untold examples of distancing effects there too (direct address, dream sequences, shock cuts, artificial sets) which are not called out as such. On the other hand films like Ken Loach's I, Daniel Blake (2016) or The Bicycle Thieves (Vittorio De Sica 1948) aim for realism, of making the audience feel they are watching the real world, without any alienating effects. If the Brechtians are to be believed these films do not make the audience aware of society's injustices, and do not make them question the way the world works. It is safe to assume though that the films actually do just that, and that alienating effects would have made them less successful.
Nevertheless, the favourite argument of the whole- and half-hearted apologists, that culture industry is the art of the consumer, is untrue; it is the ideology of ideology. /.../ By reproducing the latter (consciousness) with hypocritical subservience, the culture industry changes this reified consciousness all the more, that is, for its own purposes: it actually prevents that consciousness from changing on its own, as it secretly and, deep down, unadmittedly desires. The consumers are made to remain what they are: consumers. That is why the culture industry is not the art of the consumer but rather the projection of the will of those in control onto their victims. The automatic self-reproduction of the status quo in its established forms is itself an expression of domination. (Adorno 1991: 159-160)This is a common idea, and one that Adorno frequently made. Mainstream culture keeps people from protesting and organising rebellions against the current regime. High art on the other hand helps cultivate a more critical view on society. I find this very dubious. The first implication is that if only people paid more attention to the kind of art which Adorno liked they would bring about the fall of "late capitalism," and that this is what everybody would really want if only they would come to their senses. But I think it is fair to suggest that were you to ask the people who actually are out protesting and rebelling you would find that they are much more likely to listen to pop music than to Arnold Schönberg, watch the films of Ridley Scott rather than the films of Straub/Huillet and read J.K Rowling rather than Samuel Beckett. It is also the case that it is quite common for people, not least younger people, to be out on the streets protesting, and not just during the summer of 1968. And sometimes they even force governments to resign and dictators to fall. But I do not think we can assume that this is because they stop listen to jazz and embrace Bach instead. And most people would probably not like to tear down the present system, regardless of what kind of culture they engage with.
Film technology has developed a series of techniques which work against the realism inherent in the photographic process. Among these are soft-focus shots - a long outdated arty custom in photography - superimpositions, and also, frequently, flashbacks. It is about time to recognize the ludicrousness of such effects and get rid of them because these techniques are not grounded in the necessities of individual works but in mere convention; they inform the viewer as to what is being signified or what needs to be added in order to comprehend whatever escapes basic cinematic realism. (Adorno 1991: 159)He was also rather relentless in his contempt for ordinary people, here with reference to those who listen to popular music (and Adorno's particular pet peeve, jazz):
There is actually a neurotic mechanism of stupidity in listening too; the arrogantly ignorant rejection of everything unfamiliar is its sure sign. Regressive listerners behave like children. Again and again and with stubborn malice, they demand the one dish they have once been served. (Adorno 1991: 44-45)A lot of Adorno's thinking around art and popular culture suggests a lack of imagination. The quote at the top, about cinema's alleged inability to represent the merger of two industrial concerns, is just wrong. There is no reason to assume this cannot be done. There is a general unwillingness to actually engage with cinema, and mainstream culture at large, and instead he settles for high-minded contempt.
It was around this point that DeMille read out the names of the  men who had signed the petition to call the meeting, emphasizing, in many cases, their foreign origins - "Villiam Vyler," etc. Although this moment is not preserved in the transcripts, everybody still alive who was there says that DeMille did in fact do it, alienating all those in the middle of the argument.Eyman then quotes Richard Fleischer as saying (in an interview) "When DeMille took over on the stage, he read the names of the people that had signed the petition to hold the meeting. Myself, Bob Wise, Mark Robson, among others. He read the names, and emphasized their foreignness, the Jewishness of the names, ridiculing them. And then he implied that they were all Communists. It was an outrageous thing to say." Eyman also quotes, apparently from the transcript, other directors' reactions, such as Delmer Daves "I resent beyond belief the things that you said as you summarized the 25 men. ... I think it was disgraceful." (p. 381-382)
It was around this time that many who were present would, in later years, claim that DeMille read out the names of the men who had signed the petition to call the meeting, emphasizing, in many cases, their foreign origins - "Villiam Vyler," "Joseph Mankievitch," etc. The implication of a Jewish cabal behind Mankiewicz has been Exhibit A in the case against DeMille as an anti-Semite. But the transcript of the meeting contains no such occurrence, nor does anybody else in the meeting refer to such a moment. In fact, at one point DeMille explicitly states that he has named no names, named only the dubious (in his mind) associations of some of the petitioners, which is confirmed by a statement Vincent Sherman made later in the meeting. In all the extensive literature devoted to the meeting, nobody ever claimed DeMille had done such thing until 1984, when Fred Zinnemann published his memoirs - and Fred Zinnemann was not at the meeting. It's only after 1984 that Mankiewicz and other men who were there take up the story. (p. 406)Eyman suggests that DeMille's arguments at the meeting "was converted by time and the trick of memory into an actual speech that strongly implied anti-Semitism." (p. 407) Eyman is probably overstating his case, and he does not mention his own participation in this. It is also worth noting that Eyman is wrong, because Fred Zinnemann did not publish any memoirs in 1984. They were published in 1992, Fred Zinnemann: An Autobiography, and make not such reference to DeMille. Zinnemann only says that DeMille was the lead member of the board. (p. 97)