... what? Not "Star Wars"? Not even "The Dark Knight"? (Wait -- that's the 21st.)
See? Cinephiles and music collectors aren't the only ones who feel the compulsive need to make lists. Though, usually, we flaunt the subjectivity of the exercise (and try not to figure box-office popularity into the equation). But not this University of Chicago economist profiled in Monday's New York Times:
Ask David Galenson to name the single greatest work of art from the 20th century, and he unhesitatingly answers "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon," a 1907 painting by Picasso.He can then tell you with certainty Nos. 2, 3, 4, 5 and so on, as well. [...]
You see, Galenson has who has invented (discovered?) a -- how to put this? -- statistical method to "make qualitative judgments" about art:
To Mr. Galenson markets are what make the 20th century completely different from other eras for art. In earlier periods artists created works for rich patrons generally in the court or the church, which functioned as a monopoly. Only in the 20th century did art enter the marketplace and become a commodity, like a stick of butter or an Hermès bag. In this system, he said, breaking the rules became the most valued attribute. The greatest rewards went to conceptual innovators who frequently changed styles and invented genres. For the first time the idea behind the work of art became more important than the physical object itself.Not that there's anything all that new about art as a consumer product, about "conceptual art." (I'm certainly not the only one who has written about how home video -- the idea that you could actually own a movie -- has completely revolutionized the original notion of movies as ephemeral events that occur in a particular time and place.) But film and every other art/entertainment form I can think of now either rely on some contexual familiarity with what has come before in order to grasp their meaning, or exist in some kind of memory void where history just doesn't exist. As an example, I was recently working on a too-be-published piece in which I quoted Pauline Kael on "Star Wars" in 1977:Economists, of course, have turned their attention to the art world before. Thorstein Veblen, in his 1899 classic, "Theory of the Leisure Class," discussed how the newly moneyed turned everything, including art, into elements of conspicuous consumption.
Maybe the only real inspiration involved in 'Star Wars' was to set its sci-fi galaxy in the pop-culture past, and turn old-movie ineptness into conscious Pop Art.... Lucas has got the tone of bad movies down pat: you never catch the actors deliberately acting badly, they just seem to be bad actors, on contract to Monogram or Republic, their klunky enthusiasm polished at the Ricky Nelson school of acting.What was apparent in 1977, and even more so now, is that Kael was absolutely right, but who cared? Surely the movie was never intended to be anything more than a technologically souped-up Buck Rogers serial, right? Well, that's exactly what it was, is, and was always was intended to be. As was "Raiders of the Lost Ark." But now a generation or two have grown up with the adventures of Luke and Indy as treasured (and endlessly repeatable, memorizable) treasures of their formative years. They don't know from Buck Rogers or Monogram Pictures (even though, let me add, that Lucas's "THX 1138" actually began with a clip from a Buck Rogers serial), and they're likely to treat Star Wars and Indiana Jones movies as the Holy Grails of Cinema. (Let's face it: How many in the original audiences for these films -- the ones who made them into pop-cultural sensations to begin with -- even knew what they were based upon? And it wasn't primarily Joseph Campbell and Kurosawa, either.)
Galenson told Smithsonian in 2006:
Conceptual people -- the Young Geniuses -- emphasize the new idea, and plan their work very carefully. They often say that the execution is perfunctory. Indeed, in today's world, some of the greatest conceptual artists don't even execute their own work--they have it made by other people. But the Old Masters are never entirely sure what it is they want done, so they couldn't possibly have anybody else do it. Cezanne couldn't have said to somebody, "Go and make a painting for me."
The same is true of cinema, and it's interesting to see how the latter-day generation known as the Young Geniuses "Movie Brats" incorporated their own childhood movie memories into their work. Like, say, Brian De Palma's overt remakes of Hitchcock's "Vertigo" as "Obsession" (written by "Taxi Driver" scribe Paul Schrader), or Antonioni's "Blow Up" as "Blow Out," or Howard Hawks's "Scarface" as... well, "Scarface." And let's not forget the way De Palma wittily and thrillingly incorporated the Odessa Steps sequence from "Potemkin" as a central set-piece in "The Untouchables." Steven Spielberg's "The Color Purple" must surely be incomprehensible to anybody unfamiliar with the silent melodramas of D.W. Griffith (not that Spielberg was actually a kid in Griffith's heyday) -- as would Martin Scorsese's "New York, New York" be to someone ignorant of the tradition of MGM musicals (particularly those directed by Liza Minnelli's father Vincente), or "GoodFellas" to somebody who wasn't conversant with the conventions of Warner Bros. gangster pictures. Sure, the movies would still make sense... but, well, they wouldn't really make sense.
Not that knowledge of context, history, or reality should inhibit anyone's enjoyment. Most of these movies (OK, maybe not the Star Wars prequels) are highly enjoyable. But Star Wars (a conceptual series if ever there was one -- and, indeed, Lucas did farm out "Empire Strikes Back" and "Return of the Jedi" to be directed by others) and Indiana Jones are creations of a particular time, beginning in the late 1970s and early 1980s, that exist in relationship to another time (American matinee movies of the 1930s to 1950s). To fail to acknowledge that is simply to be incapable of fully appreciating the movies that are right in front of your face. You don't need to have knowledge or experience of pulp serials in order to like them, just to be able to see what's going on in them. (Heck, if you don't remember Gedde Watanabe's character in "Sixteen Candles," you'll miss out on one of the most ingenious conceptual gags in "Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle." And that would be a damn shame because it's really, really funny and you won't even know it.)
Remember, too, that film history is only about 100 years old, so there are still people alive today who can remember almost the entire scope of feature filmmaking from its earliest days. There are people who don't know music before the relatively recent inventions of hip-hop, rock, or bebop, too -- and music is many, many centuries older than film. Did you know that "Tainted Love," the synthesized 1981 hit by Soft Cell, featured in episode three of "Generation Kill," was a soul track originally recorded by Gloria Jones in 1964? Anybody recall the ingenious way Steely Dan re-created Horace Silver's "Song For My Father" as the intro to "Rikki Don't Lose That Number"? Or how Duke Ellington, Lester Young, Charlie Parker, Ornette Coleman and many others based songs and improvisations on chord changes from Gershwin's "I Got Rhythm"? Or even when The Turtles sued De La Soul for sampling their hit "You Showed Me" on "3 Feet High and Rising" in 1989 -- thus forever changing the way music was licensed for sampling? Oh, never mind...
[Come back for Part 2: "The Dark Knight" and the greatest movie ever made.]
39 Comments
Why do so many people still not get the SW sequels? Yes, it is true that among many fanboys, the sequels failed up to live to their own breathless expectations and all the things they'd been imagining in their own minds for years. But in their own way, they're still true to the original concept of Star Wars as (like you put it) a technologically souped-up Buck Rogers serial. In fact, the SW prequels work on even more levels than the original movies ever did. Everything that happens in the SW prequels has at least two very different interpretations - what appears to be happening, and what is actually happening, thanks to the machinations of the Machiavellian Senator/Chancellor/Emperor Palpatine. See how he manipulates everyone around him, and the drama becomes far more compelling than most first-time viewers could possibly imagine (obviously with very valid historical parallels, especially the rise of Hitler in Germany). Yes, it's still a souped-up serial, but one with many fascinating levels which grown-up viewers can ponder about.
Man, you should go and check out this album from Girl Talk.
You'd eat it up. It's a giant, hour-long album of mashups(or, "collage-music") blah blah blah. Fantastic stuff, anyway. Every hook that's drawn people to the dance floor for the last few decades seems to be there, including really obscure stuff. He just plays off the connections people have to the riffs and choruses, it's great!
http://74.124.198.47/illegal-art.net/__girl__talk___feed__the__anima.ls___/
It's also a name-your-price-purchase, which is cool.
Great post.
Heh heh! So Jim, are you finally going to talk about the Dark Knight or was that teaser in the last line an in-joke which I did not get? See, I totally got the point of this article! It was all about the Dark Knight right?
"(Heck, if you don't remember Gedde Watanabe's character in "Sixteen Candles," you'll miss out on one of the most ingenious conceptual gags in "Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle." And that would be a damn shame because it's really, really funny and you won't even know it.)"
I've seen both of those movies, but I still don't know what you're talking about. Care to let us in on the joke, Jim?
Also, I really hope part 2 is about how people seem to really like dark, complex crime dramas, and not about how kids today and their Batman movies and they wouldn't know good cinema if it bit them on the nose and blah blah blah.
I kid, I kid. I always enjoy your interpretations of cultural events and trends, even if I don't always agree with them.
Darth: Yes you did.
Josh: Oh, OK. You've seen "Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle," yes? You know that it's not only a stoner buddy movie but much of the humor derives from playing with racial stereotypes (I mentioned the big black guy in the jail cell in a recent post). So, Harold is pissed off about always being treated as "the Asian Guy" (he's Korean-American), even though he knows he actually fits some of the stereotypes, like being good at math. (I remember a great line Margaret Cho has about the anomaly of being a Korean-American girl who doesn't play the violin!)
Harold's favorite movie is "Sixteen Candles." It's a running joke, and he even sees Maria, the girl he has a crush on, coming out of a revival-house showing of the movie. Do you remember the Japanese foreign exchange student Long Duk Dong in "Sixteen Candles"? One of the most flagrant racial stereotypes in modern American movies. (It even inspired protest at the time from various Asian-American groups.) It's ironic that Harold loves this movie so much -- but it also says a lot about his sense of humor...
"These kids today and their Batman movies..." Jeez, I hope I don't come across that way! That's NOT my intention -- just to stick up for the value of background, history, perspective, memory in a time when those things are devalued or deemed not important (as in the last eight years of American foreign policy -- those kids in the executive branch with their "Brave New World" fantasies!).
Why don't they get them? Because they are disappointing, halfbaked, tasteless garbage that smack around our childhood memories of the original films? Too digital, too CGI, without the joy of the first few and even more removed from the serial influences.
Jim-Very interesting post. As a film studies major and a lover of all things movies I often wonder about this subject. That is to say, how important is it to know film history in order to enjoy and understand the movies (particularly modern movies)? Part of me wants to believe, because I devote so much time to learning about film history and because I find it fun make connections, that it has an inherent importance to one's abitlty to appreciate a film. The other part of me thinks that's elitist nonsense. Sure, these connetions can increase a viewers understanding of the filmmakers influences and intention and add(!) to their enjoyment of a given film but does not having that information decrease one's ability to have a intelligent reaction to a film? I would say no. In fact I think it could be argued that someone free of those facts might have a more honest reaction to the work. I'm sure you'd agree that no matter the number or sophistication of references a filmmaker might use there is always much more going on then those influences. Whether those "goings on" are emotional, psychological, historical...whatever, they have as much weight as any filmic influence that might be evoked and someone not familiar with film history might be better equipted to recognize these other important aspects of filmmaking.
A couple of other things about the influence of older films or film types on modern filmmakers: 1) All filmmakers are not George Lucas or Quentin Tarantino or Martin Scorsese. Many, in fact, are complete dumb asses and when they use other films to inform theirs, it's not because they're clever or really interested in history but simply that they aren't very creative or original and need other artists ideas to complete their own mediocre works. 2) The subconscious is a powerful thing and I believe (and this is pure speculation) that often an artist can create something and not even realize that they are riffing (or out right stealing) from another work.
What I'm ultimately trying to say here is that it seems unfair to assume someone doesn't get a film (or any work of art) because they don't have a complete knowledge of everything that came before it. Beyond the fact that for most people it is an impossibility, does it not lead us down a danger road? What is next? Do we dismiss people's opinions because they don't know everything about the artist, about the conditions the work was created in, about human nature...the list can go on forever. At some point we have to except that not everyone has the time, energy, or inclination to know all that is possible to know when look at a piece of art but this does not diminish the validity of their opinion. As long as that person looks at it with an open mind and is intelligent enough to know that there is more (and there's always more) to what they are seeing then they can understand (and this applies to me, you, Roger and every other viewer regardless of how much they might know) then they should be allowed and encouraged to think and feel whatever they like about the art.
"Why is it you can have that extraordinary experience of falling violenly in love with great poetry...where you are moved by its power before you comprehend it?"-H.Bloom
I've been wanting to make this comment for some time, and you've finally given me a post that's relevant to it.
When I was in 9th grade, I saw "Pulp Fiction" for the first time, and a number of other times in high school. Like most every other 14 or 15 year old, I didn't have much of a concept of film history. But, none the less, I loved that movie to death. Maybe it was the violence, or the badass qualities of it that appealed to me then, but it certainly wasn't the sly reference Anna Karina in Uma Thurman's wig.
Toward the end of high school I stopped watching "Pulp Fiction", and movies in general for about 4-5 years. When I did get back into them, and slowly caught most all of Tarantino's references, I thought it was nice, but it didn't change much for me. Maybe I appreciate the movie differently now than I did then, but I sill love it.
I'm not sure that I have any great point that Jim hasn't already made here about the fact that movies like "Star Wars", "Indiana Jones", and "Pulp Fiction" are all enjoyable even if you don't get where they are coming from. But at this point I'm wondering how far back in film history you can reference? I'm sure loads of people didn't get the D.W. Griffith references in "The Color Purple" when it was released. I'm sure not many got it when Spike Lee released "Bamboozled".
It seems like our pop culture memory can stretch back a maximum of 30 years. Anything before 1978, and we start to get hazy. Maybe I'm wrong here. I know there are plenty of people who have studied, and know, film history. It just seems like the average person does not. And so it makes me wonder how useful all those clever references are.
Michaela, let me school you, just a little.
Lucas took his juvenile love for matinee serials and gave them top-shelf special effects and a quirky, colorful scale, while maintaining the basic structure and character types of those goofy old serials.
Most of the kids who fell in love with Star Wars back in '77 did not understand the Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon lineage. And even fewer people today get the weird pop-art that Star Wars is.
There was something going on at that time in the seventies, a sort of colorized nostalgia, post Warhol. Star Wars seems to fit neatly into that. (Seriously, there was a lot of airbrushed old photos and neo-30s stuff going on in art and advertising.)
How the prequels totally and miserably failed is that instead of returning to the Flash Gordon well, Lucas borrowed from Star Wars itself, giving what should have been a gee-whiz adventure the ponderous, weepy continuity and dense plotting of The Lord of the Rings. It just wasn't fun anymore. It was a squeaky-clean drag, pretentious and vastly embarrassing, lacking any humor except that which was unintentional. It was not a pop riot. It was a fanboy nedfest.
Google "At Midnight I Will Kill George Lucas with a Shovel"
The audience does not have to understand every reference (and have followed the evolution of a genre) to like a movie. But context sure helps to appreciate it, and perhaps it puts an opinion-holder on more solid ground in debate.
I agree that the first Star Wars was basically a Flash Gordon Buck Rogers serial adapted to the screen for full feature length but it was probably the most fun Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon serial ever put on screen to this day, even though the film isn't an artistic acheivement it is one of those texts that everybody should know.I also agree that the acting isn't all that good (I don't think anybody goes to this movie for great acting and for that matter great acting does not necessarily make a film good) and that Lucas is definitely not a great director but when the film is this creative, this fun,who cares?
Now I do regard The Empire Strikes Back as one of my favorite 80's films and masterpiece of its kind and a vast improvement from it's predecessor(even though the first one has a more elegant narrative).I think it is more at the amplitude of a deep fantasy storybook than Saturday Matinee Cliffhanger serial (although it has a cliffhanger ending).I think it looks better today than it did back in 1980(in which it was originally panned by critics).
However,I can't say the same thing about Return of the Jedi which looked better back in 1983 then it does now.Today it looks kitchy to me thanks to those Ewoks(which could possibly lead to the beginning of Jar Jar)and you can sense toy tie-ins but still it is good bookend to the series inspite of all this and it does have ingenious set-pieces and creations like Jabba the Hut.So overall I think it is good but weak at the same.
As for the prequels I felt that they were flawed because I knew exactly what was going to happen to the characters and I never felt any real excitement or emotion.I noticed that A.O. Scott said Revenge of the Sith is better Star Wars and ranks with The Empire Strikes Back,now I'm not going to go that far but I will say that it is the best film in the prequel trilogy because although I thought it was predictable and aloof it was well made and watchable.
P.S. I have one question to give Jim Emerson if he is reading this and that is What did you think of Revenge of the Sith even though you don't think the prequels were highly enjoyable?
Sam: I don't mean to belittle Star Wars for being a technologically sophisticated Flash Gordon/Buck Rogers serial -- just to point out that's what it is, and what it was always intended to be. Yes, it's fun -- I don't think anybody would dispute that, and as Kael says, part of the fun is in understanding what it's based on (I love the distinction she makes between bad acting and acting badly.) But, of course, that's my point: Something can be highly enjoyable (I laughed! I cried!) without being a Great Work of Art. But we all tend to overemphasize our personal taste. Nothing wrong with that -- it's reality -- but let's get it out in the open and at least acknowledge it. As for "Revenge of the Sith": Have you ever seen a movie and then not remembered if you'd seen it or not? Maybe you start to watch it and then you realize you've already seen it, but it left no impression on you the first time and you just forgot about it? That's my experience with that one. I do, however, recall the butt-numbing tedium of sitting through "Phantom Menace," but I couldn't tell you a thing about it now except that the opening crawl was about trade tariffs and there was a "Return of the Jedi"-like scooter sequence in the desert that didn't seem to be half as exciting as the Ewok one in the woods.
P.S. Yes, I think "Empire Strikes Back" is the most daring, interesting, and satisfying Star Wars movie, too. I loved it. Do I think it's one of the 100 best movies of all time? No. But it's an essential pop-culture artifact of our time, and a terrific time at the movies. Nothing wrong with that, either.
"Google "At Midnight I Will Kill George Lucas with a Shovel""
And this is why I find it impossible to take most analyses of "where Lucas went wrong" very seriously. The personal hatred against the filmmaker himself, and overall lack of perspective, reeks of fanboy entitlement, not legitimate aesthetic criticism.
If we do look at the genre context of the STAR WARS movies, most of them are well above the average for this sort of thing- Ray Harryhausen's movies weren't really known for good acting or dialogue either, but the people who went to see them didn't care. Most actual serials didn't even have good production values to fall back on, it was more about the sheer momentum of the plots (which were generally sort of insane as a result.)
I think the status of STAR WARS is elevated somewhat by the fact that it was so influential- it's well-made, but it was also the right movie at the right time and influenced the entire business, etc. Which is not to take anything away from it, I think, it's just that being part of the canon often means being influential as much as being good. I'd say William Friedkin's SORCERER from the same year is technically the better film by a smidge, but of course nobody saw that and critics ignored it because it was a remake of a classic made by an arrogant Johnny-come-lately, so its influence on later films has been minimal.
That's the trouble with calling things "the greatest." Do you mean the best made or the most important?
Evan: You are so right about the passionate enthusiasm AND disdain for Lucas. Yes, I think he's more of a mogul than a director -- but that's something that can be objectively demonstrated by plain ol' numbers. Between the ages of 25 and 64 Lucas directed six features, four of which are "Star Wars" movies. Other than that, he's done some writing and a LOT of producing, executive producing (which could mean anything) and helping out other people's movies by lending his name as a "presenter." Personally, I think his most artistically successful movie as a director was "American Graffiti" in 1973. It captured an elegiac tone with an almost Altmanesque gift for interweaving stories and characters.
I'm not out to praise Lucas or to bury him! Just to point out what his original intentions were, and to make a case (which I think most Scanners readers do appreciate) that, as you put it, perspective enhances one's understanding of just about any work of art. I'm not just talking about explicit references to other works (although, as I said, pastiche and parody have been dominant aesthetics in art at least since the middle of the 20th century).
On a lighter note: I just happened upon the video for Fountains of Wayne's "Stacy's Mom." (The album "Welcome Interstate Managers" is a 21st century personal favorite of mine -- especially for the wistful and poignant songs, though they're all funny to some extent.) It's set in the '80s, and if you hadn't seen "Fast Times at Ridgemont High," you wouldn't know what was being evoked/parodied in the last quarter of the video. You'd still get the idea, but only a small portion of the humor.
Some criticism of Lucas is valid ... he's not a great director, and the dialogue and acting are certainly clunky at times .... But I always have to defend Lucas - and thus, Star Wars - because I nevertheless believe Lucas is a genius for creating the world he created. And I try to separate the nostalgia factor (I was 7 when Star Wars first came out) - and I think I am separating it.
Yes, it's understood that Lucas was "influenced" by many things that came before him ... and so maybe the basics of the story arc is not original. So what. It's now what a movie is about, it's how it's about it, right?
Lucas' genius is in creating this world out of thin air - and making all the parts fit together into a cohesive whole (notwithstanding continuity nitpicking from those with way too much time on their hands). From the get go, Lucas did not waste time with exposition. He invited us into a world that was already old, worn-in, had a history ... and didn't explain it all. He made references in the Star Wars script to people, places, events, without any explanation - just matter of factly - and asked us to just accept it like "oh yeah, them, of course."
Lucas speaks specifically about this in his commentaries. And I believe this is at the root of his genius in creating the Star Wars concept from the get go.
And, in agreeing with the original poster, yes - the prequels have many layers that most people completely missed. I agree the prequels were a disappointment to an extent - but certainly not to the extent some people hated on it, and not always for the same reason. For example, I heard criticism that Episode I was so boring, it was about trade routes. But this is not what it's about at all. It's about the Emperor's machinations to create controversy for his own evil purposes. Episode I is all a set up. Create a crisis that doesn't exist in order to establish authoritarianism. Sound familiar?
I'm done. Sorry if this was thread hijacking, but other people started it :)
Evan, yes there is a vast amount of entitled fanboy ranting available online. Most of it is simply bitter. Patton Oswalt's "at midnight" rant is the simplest and funniest argument I've heard on an emotional fan-level. Have a listen if you have not heard it.
But what I was getting at is that Star Wars (the original few films) were joyously clever works of appropriation of old serials.
And that one of the countless reasons the Prequels left so many people cold was that the influences that breathed life into the original series were replaced with a ponderous, continuity-obsessed, joyless workmanlike, self-referencing self-importance.
I don't hate Lucas. He seems nice to a fault. He's directed a few very good films.
He gave millions of people the same excitement he felt as a kid when he was watching the old serials on TV. He created a imaginative new take on the old laser-pistol genre. And I'm still slightly fond of Star Wars and Empire. And American Graffiti is well done Americana.
But who can argue that the flat and tiresome Prequel Trilogy is a genuine work of importance? It does not even stand out the a pop-culture level it was made for.
You know, I've been wondering how we seem to inherently know certain types without having direct knowledge of early source material like Buck Rogers serials (we being me, who has never seen/read/heard anything with Buck Rogers). Or how even children know the types that go into a film noir detective story, without ever having seen one. It seems these conventions are so saturated in our culture that we don't even realize we're picking them up.
Looney Tunes shorts, for instance, often play with the trappings of a certain genre or style--one that comes to mind is a pulp adventure story complete with the map montage during the plane flight (a la Raiders). Saved by the Bell of all shows had a detective story, and Family Matters had a noir fantasy episode. Star Trek: TNG has a few episodes with Captain Picard playing a private eye, and Star Trek: Voyager developed a Buck Rogers-ish serial tribute in one of the later seasons. I'm sure there are plenty of other TV shows (The Simpsons comes to mind) that also introduce children to film conventions, not to mention books, comics, movies, and stories they hear from friends or teachers.
I'm almost positive that Star Wars was the first example of pulpy sci-fi I was exposed to, which is probably true for many people growing up nowadays. But since then, I've learned more about Star Wars through its inspirations. I don't think it's elitist to appreciate connections to artistic or cultural history in a movie, nor do I think it's a necessary factor for enjoyment. Once Upon a Time in the West, for instance, is a rip-roaring spaghetti western independent of the films it pays homage to, but having seen those may help you appreciate how much thought or love went into crafting the film.
Not to drag the conversation back down to comic book films, but there's an aspect of this topic that relates to them, so screw it.
I'm often fascinated by the way many arguments about the latest comic book flick quickly turn to how closely they "followed the comics," as if either A) that's all that would make the movie a success, or B) you have to be able to recognize the geeky comic book references to enjoy it.
Complicating matters further is that most long-running, iconic comic characters have gone through so many ridiculous storylines and universe shifts and whatever-the-hell-else that "following the comics" can often depend on which decade the filmmakers chose to follow. Batman Begins and The Dark Knight are brilliant examples of the original, grimmer version of Batman, but then wouldn't the 1966 Batman film, in its own insane way, be a pretty good example of the goofier version of the 60s Batman comic books that the tv series itself helped usher in?
Movies like Sin City and 300 take the concept to an even more maddening extreme, since they're basically panel-for-panel translations of the source graphic novels. Does a person need to know that to enjoy them? If you didn't know that, and didn't enjoy the movies, would learning about their source afterward change your mind? In 30 years, will kids go back and watch them, knowing nothing of the original novels, and experience them differently, like Star Wars fans who knew nothing about Buck Rodgers and Flash Gordon?
I found it curious that the trailer for Watchmen -- yeah yeah, I know, it's not out for nearly a year and here I am bringing it up again, sue me -- that the trailer for Watchmen proudly states "From the visionary director of 300!" No offense to Mr. Zack Snyder (I enjoyed 300 quite a bit, actually), but is it really fair to call someone a "visionary" just because they managed to make a movie that's nearly a panel-for-panel graphic novel translation? Not to be a reductionist jerk, but isn't that basically a super-complex and expensive version of paint-by-numbers? If he's a "visionary," who's vision is it, Snyder's or Alan Moore's?
I suppose my point is... well, I'm not sure if I have one, actually. Maybe I can reference someone else's point and co-opt it as my own...
Kris, Brandon: Excellent points, and a whole aspect of this discussion that I didn't raise. I do think we recognize certain archetypes because they are so pervasive in our culture, even if we don't know the specific references. (Ask Carl Jung for more details.)
As for the "visionary director of "300" (and let's not forget the instant parody of it, "Meet the Spartans") -- chalk that one up to marketing hype, trying to reach the masses who've never heard of "Watchmen."
It doesn't surprise me that the Star Wars prequels are so horrendously underrated. They are (in my humble opinion) the greatest works of modern cinema, without question. Supreme art is the one that at first does not allow itself to be recognized...
Take The Phantom Menace, for example. This is a film that is not only ABOUT misapprehension and diversion, but that also manifests these themes into EVERY facet of its construction. It's almost as if everyone who has something negative to say about it hasn't even seen it at all, and that this is an inherent effect of its form and content working *magnificently*.
Just for fun, look up the word "vergence" and then closely watch (and listen to) TPM. Now THAT'S art.
Dan: That's a very interesting and provocative take on "Phantom Menace." In some ways I think there was so much build-up, hype and anticipation surrounding its release that it polarized people. There were those who were determined to hail it as a masterpiece no matter what, because they'd waited so long for their beloved Star Wars saga to continue and they had such faith in Lucas and the Star Wars universe; and there were people who would have hated it no matter what because they either thought Lucas should have left well enough alone, or because they resented the popularity of the original Star Wars trilogy, which they felt was unjustified and overblown. At any rate, it was difficult to see it in 1999 as just another movie. It was something everybody seemed compelled to have a definite opinion about -- not unlike "Titanic" or "The Dark Knight." (I was thinking about this with regard to "E.T." recently, but that movie had the chance to sneak up on people -- it was supposed to be Spielberg's "little" movie after the large-scale "Close Encounters," "1941" and "Raiders of the Lost Ark.")
Ted: For fear of derailing this even further, I would say that the prequels had their fair share of direct influences from old movies as well as just the original films. There's a shot in Episode I of a communication screen which recycles the visual and sound effects from Buck Rogers, the plot's even more like HIDDEN FORTRESS than STAR WARS was (the two Jedi escorting the Queen to safety as her planet falls under attack), in Episode II there's a CG character modeled on Ernest Borgnine, in Episode III there's a shot of Yoda that's directly lifted from a Kurosawa film, etc.
Back to the point! Certainly, I think there are a lot of people who when it comes to movies, TV shows, etc. will only pay attention to the new. It's the reason movies started using Roman numerals for copyright dates, to make their age less apparent. But to be a fan you definitely need to learn to appreciate the older things, for all the baggage they have with them.
Again with the elitism paranoia! Talking about the average movie-goer! Time to face it. All people who spend as much time thinking, talking, defending, their points of view as everyone here does are elitists in a way. The "average" movie-goer follows the hype over and over again and though he may love it half the time and hate it half the time it's still the hype that matters and he will continue to follow that siren. The actual movie only matters to a movie elitist. And why would anyone bother to scan a blog if he didn't care about the context in which these movies exist? The movie is the bread and butter, yes, but the context is the jam. I like bread and butter but why deny a smidge of jam if I get to apply to taste? And vis a vis context, I would certainly want the info, Jim, if you listened to Stravinsky right before writing a review of "Pineapple Express", if you get my drift.
Well, I can't help but be surprised at those who still don't think the Star Wars prequels were fun, satisfying movies in their own right.
To put things in perspective, I'd have to say that Lucas and Spielberg really do deserve almost *all* of the credit, in my own humble life, for getting me excited about the old movies and serials of the so-called Golden Age of Hollywood. These days I spend most of the time watching old movies on Turner Classic Movies, and I love discovering little-known movies whether they were made in Hollywood, England, or non-English speaking countries, at any time from the silent era through today.
Even after having been a dedicated film buff for well over a decade, I was really kind of amazed at what Lucas was able to do with the SW prequels, because they work on several different levels. They can be seen from a children's perspective, a somewhat naive perspective, but also from the cynical point of view of an adult, knowing full well everyone in the story is being manipulated by a politician who also happens to be a very skilled evil sorcerer (or Sith, as Lucas would call him). There are many obvious parallels, where you can find an ancient, democratic civilization being consumed by its own ignorance and fear. In its own way, the prequels are I suppose a wonderful way to teach younger viewers that something that appears like a joyful, triumphant moment (the celebration at the end of Episode 1) can in fact be the moment of doom for an ancient civilization, with a benign-seeming Chancellor Palpatine looking over the very young people he will eventually corrupt and destroy throught his machinations.
There have been good essays written about all the hidden symbolism in the SW films, including the prequels, that involve bodies of water, circular figures, chasms, etc., which actually add a lot of depth to many otherwise simple-looking moments.
That there are many intellectual, ethical and philosophical issues that intrigue Lucas should be obvious, if nothing else, to anyone who has watched all the Young Indiana Jones episodes.
To me the real problem isn't the likes of Lucas or Spielberg, but rather the younger generation(s) of filmmakers who appear to have little life experience outside of screening rooms to actually build interesting stories around.
The filmmakers of the first half of the 20th century actually brought some of their own life experiences to their work - and what incredible experiences they were: the Great Depression, two world wars; and for some, the experience of being emigres to this relatively young nation, on the brink of becoming a superpower.
Sorry for digressing big time, but regarding your comment "It's ironic that Harold loves this movie so much" -- heck, I'm an Asian and I love Sixteen Candles. (And I didn't really get 'the joke' while watching Harold & Kumar.)
Yes, Long Duk Dong character is an obvious stereotype, but he's not that offensive -- he's supposed to be a foreign exchange student. On the other hand, Asian American students are not doing so well on children's TV shows. (Or even in 'School of Rock'.)
H Kim: I'm not at all saying that Harold (or anyone else) shouldn't love "Sixteen Candles" because of Long Duk Dong, just that the first "Harold & Kumar" movie (and, although I haven't seen the second one yet, I'm excited there will be a third!) was having fun with that particular character -- brilliantly, without ever explicitly acknowledging it. The irony, which the movie plays with from beginning to end, is in its approach to embracing, mocking and overturning racial and ethnic stereotypes all at the same time. Of course, that's one of the things, along with the smart-dumb stoner humor, that makes it so funny.
""These kids today and their Batman movies..." Jeez, I hope I don't come across that way! That's NOT my intention -- just to stick up for the value of background, history, perspective, memory in a time when those things are devalued or deemed not important..."
Nothing wrong with that, as far as it goes (and a lot right); old art deserves to be remembered and experienced and discussed. The danger lies in, then, setting up an opposition to new art. Just because old art is still good doesn't mean new art is necessarily inferior--for the simple reason that all new art is eventually old art. 30 years from now, many of today's films will be accepted classics, and people in 2040 will look back on the 2000s as a great decade for movies, just as we look back on the 1970s as a great decade for movies.
I don't necessarily mean to say that the Dark Knight will end up being as culturally and artistically important and beloved as The Godfather; but I don't think the possibility should be dismissed out of hand simply because of the date on the box.
(I'm aware I'm jumping the gun a little, but the general topic is, has been, and will continue to be relevant to some of these things you say.)
Josh: I hear ya, but I'm coming at something similar from a slightly different angle. I have never thought of art as "new" or "old." I don't understand why anyone would make that distinction. Styles (of filmmaking, acting, music, etc.) come and go, technology changes (not necessarily improves, as early talkies and early CGI attest), but, to my eyes and ears, that doesn't automatically make them seem (out-)dated. Music from the 1940s or 1890s or 1720s or 1600s doesn't sound "old" to me just because it was written or performed a long time ago. Yes, recordings made in the 1920s or 1940s are not as clear and spacious as modern stereo or 5.1 or SACD recordings, but the music itself is still alive. When I watch Buster Keaton, I don't see "old" -- something that "unfortunately" had to be made in black and white and without synch sound. Far from it. I just see Buster Keaton doing what Buster Keaton did better than anybody else in the history of movies. (Jackie Chan was inspired -- spectacularly -- by him, but didn't approach his unique grace or poetry.) As I am fond of paraphrasing: Art is always in the present-tense. Because, as you are experiencing it (bringing to it your own knowledge, experience, history, taste), it's always happening in the now.
The song is called "You Showed Me."
JE: Thanks, R. I spaced. It's fixed now.
And, as someone has said before, movies aren't made in a vacuum...all movies and all books are influenced their time and place whether they realize it or not. Sometimes they are influenced by other times and other places. But when I first read Shakespeare's plays many years ago, I was emotionally riveted by them without any knowledge of Elizabethean England or even the settings of any of these plays. The debate this could bring up - and, again, this was hinted at by some comments in your post on The Temple of Doom - is whether a work of art is defined by its universal significance and appeal or by its significance and appeal to its time and place, or both. I suspect this may be a more complicated question than it seems, because The Divine Comedy, for instance, was mostly considered as a political satire in its day (numerous Italian statesmen from the time period in hell in that book, if I recall).
I, personally, am a fence sitter in this argument I've started with myself. I think either approach has value although frankly, I lean ever so slightly (and I emphasize the word "slightly") towards the universal appeal option. If the Indiana Jones film had not captivated me before I was aware of their cultural setting or even when they were made, I would be fairly indifferent to the homages they pay to various 1930s adventures.
Max: It's an argument I'm always having with myself, too. Art is unavoidably a product of its time, but that doesn't mean it's limited to the context(s) of that time. I'm always suspicious of people who try to impose the styles or fashions or mores of their era (or at least, the time they're living through right now) on works of the past. Makes no sense. The example that first comes to my mind is the response of some people to "silent movie acting." They scoff because nobody really behaves that way. It's silly because it's not "realistic." True. It's not and was never intended to be -- any more than kabuki or French Impressionism or German Expressionism were meant to be precise reproductions of everyday reality. (Elizabethan audiences were perfectly aware that they didn't speak in iambic pentameter, too, when Hamlet described acting as the art of holding "the mirror up to nature.")
And, as I said, nothing should prevent us from enjoying or being moved by something we don't fully comprehend. As long as we don't fool ourselves into thinking our own experience is all that matters. (I'm also the one who always says that a movie is about the experience you have when you watch it -- but by that I mean I know I will never fully understand all the references packed into T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland," which boggle my mind and have kept scholars busy for decades. But what I really don't understand is the attitude (which I encounter quite often -- and always have) that says it's immaterial, that actually resists knowing anything that doesn't yield itself readily. If it did, it would be merely superficial and incapable of engaging you deeply on any level. But of course I feel that way, because I've spent my whole life trying to get closer to, and deeper into, works of art, and works of pop culture (not that those things are mutually exclusive at all).
Obviously I don't believe "greatness" (or profundity) has any relationship, one way or another, to "universal appeal" or its significance in a particular time or place. The example you cite of "The Divine Comedy" is perfect: Something may be viewed in one way by one set of people in one time, and quite differently by others in another time. But knowing about Dante's political satire can only enhance your appreciation of his achievement. Sure, you can be awestruck by it without knowing that, but you have a fuller, more rounded understanding of it if you do. Will future generations understand all the political (satirical?) references to the "War on Terror" in, say, "The Dark Knight"? Probably not. But there they are, and knowing about them helps you to understand certain levels -- though not all -- on which the movie is operating. Whether you think it has anything coherent to express (even if it's ambivalence), or expresses itself very well, is another matter entirely -- and the subject of much discussion right now. But the politics are indisputably woven into the fabric of the movie.
For me the problem is that some people get so wrapped up in their love for certain films that they choose to be willfully ignorant of the sources of inspiration. I got this Star Wars fan upset when I asked him if he had seen Hidden Fortress, and explained that Kurosawa provided part of the basic plot. His head might have exploded if he knew that Lucas did not write the script alone.
I did not know about "Tainted Love". My source of music at that time was WLS in Chicago. I was living in Evanston between 1962 and 1965.
Jim, you bring up a great point about the perception of "old" in art, especially in film. I've learned over time just what type of movies I can recommend to what people and a lot of that simply has to do with how old it is, if it's in color, and if it's in a foreign language. Now, for those who are able to not pre-judge a film based on those things (that is, the people who I am more likely to invite over to watch a good film) there is still some need to fill in context. Some people have a very hard time taking a Hollywood film from 1950 seriously because the acting styles are so different. I love a lot of Hollywood films from the early 1900s but I have to admit that the acting and the formulas (notably, characters falling "in love" at the drop of a hat) are such a product of their time that you can't help but perceive them as "old." Now, to me, that isn't a bad thing but for others, it instantly removes all credibility from the film.
Something I've started doing when introducing films to friends and family is to give them some context. This is largely due to the fact that I think it helps break the ice for people that don't tend to watch films like the one we are about to see. It gives the film some credibility. Typically, this is just saying the year it was made and who directed it. I even do this with my two young daughters. If we were to watch E.T. on family movie night, I would start by telling them the year it was made, how old I was when I saw it (four) and that Steven Spielberg directed it. Can't start schooling 'em too early!
When we talk about context, it isn't always having an understanding of what the film maker intended or what influenced them. How about what influenced the viewer? Over the years I've turned countless people onto Seven Samurai. I've never had a single person tell me that they didn't like it. In fact, it's always been the extreme opposite. They all love it, even those people who don't like "slow" movies, B&W, and reading subtitles. But, the thing is, most of these people I'm referring to had never even heard of it before! Compare that it Citizen Kane. Anybody with even a tiny amount of interest in film history has heard of Citizen Kane and most of them could tell your that it's "the greatest film ever made," even if that's just a matter of somebody else's opinion. Showing a film like Citizen Kane to a newbie requires a LOT of context because going in with an outlook like that before ever seeing the movie just sets them up for failure. I can't tell you how many times I've heard "well, I don't see what the big deal about that is." To me, Citizen Kane stands tall, even without understanding all the technical achievements and how it re-shaped the way films were made. It's an amazing character study (which is another problem for some - in general, the typical film-goer isn't interested in character studies; they want plot). For others, they go in expecting the greatest movie-going experience of their lives, much like is promised by the latest summer blockbusters. For most, it's a movie that will fail without proper context (and even then, they probably STILL won't like it).
I think this same notion of personal context going into a movie applies heavily to the Star Wars prequels. I am a child of the Star Wars era. I, too, am a certifiable Star Wars nut. I know very few people who thought highly of the prequels. A lot of them go so far as to say the new movies ruined the old (hogwash!). I heard the same about Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. People HATED it! But, when I talk to kids, they LOVE the new Star Wars and Indiana Jones! I sat next to a kid who was about eight during Crystal Skull and he was literally on the edge of his seat the whole time. At the end, he collapsed back in his seat and exhaled loudly as if he'd been holding his breath throughout the whole film. That kid looked exactly like I must have when I'd had the experience in the theatre with the original Indy films. The people I know, who largely disliked the new SW and Indy films, are all in their late 20s or older. They all have a different personal context going into the new films than they did going into the originals because when they saw the originals, they were kids (or at least young or younger than they are now).
Adam W and Evan:I do think for Lucas to create a universe and anthology that appeals to us and has a profound effect on our popular culture just from scratch is in many ways to be act of genius.To me Lucas is just like Walt Disney where he started out creating some of the most wonderful movie entertainments but what he has created has turned into brand name and something commercial.I do think "The Star Wars Trilogy" is responsible for killing american movies but I don't think we should point fingers at Lucas or condemn him because I think he made the first Star Wars back in 1977 with the best intentions and I think he wanted to make an entertainment that would appeal to the young and the young at heart(in fact I read and heard that Lucas was originally expecting it to be a flop and that he was preparing for the worst).I don't think he is a great director as I said before(and he doesn't have much on his resume)but if "Star Wars" wasn't a success I think he could have easily allowed himself to make more movies and become a great director just like his contemporaries like Scorsese,DePalma and Coppola.
Jim:Thank you very much for responding to my comment and reminding that cinematic "goodness" still can be valued and have something to offer.For the past few weeks and months.I value "Star Wars" very much and I have no problem with the fact that its not great art but great fun and it's fun in itself to discover the derivative nature of the film that surveys about 40 years of film history.Not every movie has to be one of the greatest of all time either.For Example,I don't think "Terminator 2:Judgement Day" and "The Abyss" are one of the 100 best movies of all time but we can still embrace them as terrific,escapist entertainment at the movies.Also, are there any movies that you admire deeply,are quite fond of and have a personal connection to even though you know it's not deserving of being on a 100 best movies list? because that's the way I feel toward "The Empire Strikes Back" and Brian DePalma's "The Untouchables"(which is a movie that even DePalma fans hate)because although I don't think both of these movies are one of the 100 best but they are favorites for me.I think there is a difference between a favorite and a greatest.I could show someone a list of films that I think are the greatest and seperate list of films that are my favorites and on each list there would be a totally different list of movies on each one.
Michaela:I just felt that the prequels were Star Wars made for the sake of making Star Wars movies.I think Lucas made those films because people craved for more Star Wars.I don't think there is anything in the dialogue that is quotable and I think the characters are forgettable and there was nothing that lingered in my memory.Now to be honest,I did enjoy Phantom Menace(I saw it when I was about 8 or 9) not because of the narrative but because of the colorful settings(corrusaut and gungan underwater city) and characters (Darth Maul,who I thought stole the show for me) had which was enough to sustain and entire movie for me and Attack of the Clones is the blandest of the prequels but I did think Jango Fett and Count Dooku(but his character is poorly developed) were pretty cool characters.However,something is wrong with a movie if its villains are the best parts of the movie because I thought the rest of those movies were pretty unremarkable.I don't think the prequels are bad movies(although they did get some razzie nominations),I just think they are unremarkable and not very memorable films that further cheapened the Star Wars franchise.
Nothing wrong with movies being referential to movie-dom's past, if that makes any sense. So long as it makes sense in its own context too. That's what makes it so enjoyable.
Best part of Dark Knight (minor spoiler) -- in an other wise too-long movie that started to bore me after a while -- was when The Joker said "You complete me" to Batman. That was classic.
The Star Wars prequels, to me, were all the exposition that Lucas left out of the originals. As I said, the genius, to me, of the originals, was that he left out all of that exposition. So maybe I could've fallen into the camp that he should've left well enough alone. But seeing all of that finally played on screen, was way cool.
I do admit, however, that I completely skip over the Jar Jar scenes ... and thanks to DVD, I also skip completely over the Anakin-Padme "love" scenes in Episode II ... they are too painful to watch. I also tend to gloss over the Ewok stuff - and as a 13-year old at the time, I hated those parts for being way too "cute" and was upset there was too much humor in that movie. So maybe I like the overly-ponderous nature of the prequels that Jim eludes to :)
Finally, I also must admit that I cried at the end of Revenge of the Sith. Bawled like a baby - AFTER I walked out of the theater. This is hard to explain because this reaction came on so many levels. ... First off, I was going through a divorce at the time, so emotions were already raw. And I never really knew for sure what made me start crying. But I think it was because I was a) happy that "Sith" was a really good movie, and that Lucas did me proud finally and left me with a good taste ... and b) the knowledge that "this is it." I spent my life since I was a little kid reveling in Star Wars, buying the toys, reading the boys, knowing all about the history of it, going to all the midnight showings on opening night ... and now it was all over. This is it, there would be no more. These were tears of joy, relief, sadness, and just my own nostalgia rolled into it.
Point being ... there is no use trying to extract ones own experience and perspective from whether the film was "great" or not.
Josh and Jim, re: the debate of old vs. new. I agree that "just because old art is still good doesn't mean new art is necessarily inferior."
However, new art does genuinely seem inferior. Why is this? It can't be merely the passage of time (as you point all that is new will someday be old). And I don't think it's my own prejudice - I'm always awaiting and hoping for a turnaround. So I guess I'm trying to figure out what it is exactly that changed. (And before I continue, let me note I am speaking mostly of mainstream American films, though I believe my perspective spills over into other nationalities and art forms as well.)
I think one thing that has been going on for about 10 years now is that the explosion in technology has reoriented film's focus away from a mix of realism and fantasy to something tilting far more towards fantasy. (I talk about this a little in my response to Jim's post on the value of comic-book movies; see here: http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/08/problem-with-comic-books-and-movies.html)
I also think people, from filmmakers to viewers, think and act differently than they did years ago, and these changes in their thinking and behavior (some of which may be an overall improvement) is no longer as conducive to making and appreciating great art. As a society, we are far more distracted and distractable than we used to be, and more people live in more comfort (probably a good thing, but it may have negative side effects). There is not the same interest in the past, nor are people even as familiar with it as they once were.
Perhaps our culture is experiencing an uneasy adolesence. There is so much to take in and it is also so disorganized in the absence of an overarching ideology, that it seems hard to apply the necessary focus and find the firm ground necessary to build off of. Let me be clear, I'm not asking for a reactionary return to classicism (though that too can have its place in the modern world). You can't force yourself to see things the way that people in the past did naturally. But at the end of the day perhaps we will find a way to incorporate newer possibilities, newer outlooks, and newer technology into works that still tap into something elemental and powerful in human nature (there have been great movies this decade, to be sure, but they were fewer and further between than in, say, the 70s). I certainly hope so.
Jim,
I think the obvious answer here is that there is no one answer: we have to be case specific. I often hear people say that a good film should "stand on its own," but I don't think that's an essential criterion for measuring quality. I really don't see how anyone could fully engage with Godard's "Notre Musique" without being familiar with some of his films of the past two decades like "Germany Year 90, Nine Zero" and, to a lesser degree, "For Ever Mozart." Not that you can't still enjoy the movie, but it's part of Godard's ongoing inquiry into the relationship between sound and image that might not be as obvious as, say, its political content. On the other hand (and here I contradict myself), someone coming at a film like this "fresh" may have different insights than someone who may be wearing his auteurist blinders.
Outside of the auteur arena, context is certainly vital for understanding many films. For example, you won't know that a film breaks with genre conventions unless you know what those genre conventions are. I think recognizing homages is somewhat less critical, however. I liked Reservoir Dogs before I got any of the numerous references, and to be honest seeing how much Tarantino "borrowed" from older films actually diminished my enjoyment of the film (though I still like it and consider it his best work.)
So, what did this have to do with Picasso and Galenson's theory? Please clarify the connection in your argument or just delete the opening paragraphs. You haven't made the connection (or disconnection) to/from Galenson's Marxist interpretation of art explicit.
i.e., I am confused.
Interesting aside: Most art critics consider Les Desmoiselles d'Avignon the most important painting of the 20th century. And to appreciate it requires knowledge of classical forms and the aesthetics of cubism. (Seriously folks, at first glance this is not an attractive painting.)
Or maybe that's not an aside, and is what you intended? A post about why art critics still matter?
Phil: I intended this post to bring up the question of what criteria we use when we "rank" works of art on a hierarchical scale. To inquire into what does "greatness" means to Galenson (he explains his economic criteria in the excerpts and the articles I link to), and to you? We've had many discussions here about various critics' lists and polls of the "greatest" movies of a period (last year, all time) or of a certain genre (horror, comic-based). But what do such lists really mean (if anything). The intent was to start a discussion about that.
Okay. I'll bite. It seems as though Galenson is perceiving his lists to be universally accepted. By quantifying his rationale, he's saying that the rationale is absolute when, really, any list is clearly subjective. His lists, no matter how he rationalizes them, are still subjective based on how he chose the means for judging them.
To me, lists are only as credible as the person who makes them. I love lists but I'm also choosy about the lists that I allow to influence me. And by influence, I mean influence me to check something out, not to influence my own opinion (as much as that's actually possible).
I don't get to watch every film that comes out each year (or those that have come out in years past). I wouldn't want to watch every film ever made anyway! That's why I trust the lists of critics I respect; I rely on them to whittle the list of all movies down to what they think are the better movies so I can do my best to streamline my viewing time (Ebert's list of Great Movies was indispensable when I wanted to start exploring film outside of my comfort zone). I don't know that there's any value to a list other than that. I mean, how can you really rank one film to another other than by personal preference, which is not the same amongst any two viewers? You can't. The only way two films could really be accurately ranked against one another is if you had two different films made from the exact same script. That would at least eliminate ranking based on broad personal preferences such as genre preference, love for an actor, etc. Even still, the ranking would be completely subjective and the only point to the ranking that I can think of is to create stimulating conversation with others.
So, what do lists really mean? Well, the most exacting answer would be that they are the physical manifestations of how our brains process and categorize information as a means of creating a personal understanding of that information. We can't not make lists, even if we don't actually write them down.
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