FILM
- AS A -
SUBVERSIVE ART

THE PLEASURE GARDEN
(James Broughton, Great Britain, 1953)
The censor at work, forever attempting to fix the unfixable.
His task is unenviable, messy, bottomless, and secretly
exciting.  Broughton's comic, yet ideological fantasy
celebrates the victory of sensual pleasure and love over
prudery and authoritarianism; but the clumsy "hammer"
(here even held wrongly) is nowadays being wielded
more insidiously by ever more repressive forces in
society and the outcome is not necessarily pre-ordained.

THE SUBVERSION
OF SUBVERSION

It is in the nature of subversion that its perpetrators should be
subverted in turn.  For, in the wider sense, any subversion is but
a reflection of a material conflict within society, in which opposing
sides use both offensive and defensive devices to protect themselves.
 The subversive artist, moreover, is always on the outside.  If the defi-
nition of subversion is the attempt to undermine existing institutions or
value systems, the operative word is "existing"; the subversive attacks
something "in control" and wishes to replace it by what does not yet exist
and has as yet no power.  With the growth of the technological state,
society's methods for protecting itself against disruption and "anarchy"
have become increasingly effective.  The means of production, communi-
cation, and distribution are firmly in the state's hands and without them,
the opposition cannot reach the masses with its subversive message.
This is a particularly serious problem for film,  a technological art
requiring costly, complex tools and special facilities for exhibition.

The large number of films in this book may easily lead one to the conclusion
that the subversive film is well and thriving.  Nothing could be further from the
truth.  The majority of these films will be seen by only small numbers of people;
their effectiveness is thus extremely limited.  Within the system under attack,
the extent of distribution of a subversive film stands in inverse relation to the
extent of its subversion.  The anti-American Hour of the Blast Furnaces -- though
a masterpiece of political cinema, or rather because of this -- will not be given
wide national distribution in America.  The exhibition of an anti-Vietnam war film
to  peace groups may evoke applause or tears among these already converted
groups, but how is one to reach the others?  In America, a few political distributors
(such as Newsreel, American Documentary Films, and Tricontinental  FilmCenter)
have come into existence and attempt to reach larger and unaffiliated audiences,
but their resources are limited and neither governmental art bodies nor private
foundations (themselves part of the power structure) subsidize their activities.
It is precisely because the American Establishment knows that these groups are
of no real danger to it that allows their existence; in so far as they might become
more dangerous, they are "contained" by "democratic" devices too numerous
to mention in detail such as tax harrassment, fire laws, and legal interference.

Significantly, the United States, though moving in the direction of a more
authoritarian state, still has the most developed national network for the
non-theatrical exhibition of films, including practically all those discussed
here, at film societies, universities, public libraries, churches, and civic or
political organizations, operating with 16mm equipment of often surprisingly
professional quality.  Prints can also be bought or leased; this enables public
 libraries and colleges to own their own collections.  More than a thousand lend
films free, as they do books, upon presentation of a library card; those in larger
cities often own some of the "subversive" titles, to the discomfort of local conser-
vatives. Political censorship is legally non-existent, though sometimes attempted
against particularly radical films.  Previously, such action was more readily
taken against sex films, and despite the changed attitude of the last few years,
it is safe to assume, however, that Muehl's Sodoma could not be shown in much of
America, and that the overall situation will considerably worsen as a result of the
pro-censorship 1973 Nixon Supreme Court decision.  In any case, although the non-
theatrical distribution and exhibition network propably reaches a potential audi-
ence of several millions, this still represents only a fraction of the total American
audience. Nevertheless, given its composition -- students and organized groups --
the political and cultural influence of this audience exceeds its actual size.

The American situation is not reproduced elsewhere, though Western Europe,
Scandinavia and Canada possess growing non-theatrical markets.  In the Eastern
countries, no individually initiated showings or programming can take place and
the importation of films is strictly limited and centralized at the top. A few foreign
political films will be bought each year, provided they subvert the West rather than
the East.  It is therefore clear that the majority of the films in this book are not
readily availablefor exhibition in most countries (except for the commercial films
mentioned, from Fellini to Kubrick to sex films, where they are permitted.)

As for the international circulation of subversive films, commercial
distributors do not generally buy such films of other nations and non-
commercial distribtors cannot afford to do so.  Many governments control
the export of films, thereby preventing international circulation of unpleas-
ant works.  The majority of subversive films are in 16mm which cannot
properly (or at all) be shown in many countries. However, several national
television networks now buy independent "subversive" films of other
nations; in this way, certain important American underground and political
films have been more widely seen in West Germany than in the USA.

The extent to which art affects society needs to be further investi-
gated.  The surrealists did not, as had been their intention, succeed
in transforming capitalism.  It was only when they began to intervene
as citizens (politically) and not merely as artists (aesthetically) that
some were able to help bring change.  Bunuel bitterly complained
that Un Chien Andalou had been misunderstood as a dream instead
 of a murderous attack.  Eisenstein's films were not popular with the
Russian masses.  By definition, subversive filsm of quality do best
at congregations of the faithful or at international film festivals,
as the assembled filmmakers and critics are largely disaffiliated
oppositionists themselves (in spirit, not always in body).

The new sexual revolution has not yet transformed relations between
the sexes and is, in fact, at times attacked by the new feminists as
male-oriented.  Hardcore sex has created new millionaires and
driven art films from many cinemas (though permitted lonely men
to improve their masturbational fantasies and couples their sexual
performance) but it has not yet changed a sexually repressive
civilization.  The rapid liberalization of sexual mores in an other-
wise not noticeably freer society may indeed be partially suspect;
much evidence points to an increase in mechanical sexuality
at the expense of eroticism, growing commercialization of sex
in the guise of sexual freedom, and the availability of instant,
guiltless sex to help ensure the smooth functioning of society.
Significantly, American films have simultaneously grown
increasingly apolitical and less concerned with moral issues.

There is, in fact, every reason to agree with Marcuse's pessimistic
confirmations of present-day capitalism's ability to absorb, pervert
and subsume opposition; and to transform the oppositional product
itself (be it politics or sex) into a commodity.  If it is not too radical,
it can even be publicized, thereby robbing it of its cult appeal
while simultaneously neutralizing it ideologically by apparent
 acceptance. In this sense, the latitude granted to independent
showcase to exhiibit whatever they wish, implies that they
serve as a safety valve for the draining off of radical impulses.

The production of subversive films remains as uncertain and precarious
as ever.  In the East, the Russians have proved how, once opposition
reaches a certain degree of danger as in Czechoslavakia, it is possible
to snuff out, literally overnight, an entire film movement of international
importance; these directors now do manual work, or are employed in areas
not connected with the cinema, or drink themselves to death (this exactly
describes the situation of the most talented and promising filmmakers of
China in the courseof the Cultural Revolution).  Other oppositional directors
of the East (Polanski, Skolimowski et al) have gone to the West, meeting
defeat or integration into the commercial industry.  (Borowczyk, Lenica,
and Kristl are exceptions, partly because their work is not sufficiently
enticing to commercial interests.)  In the West, significant numbers of new
independents constantly arise, make a few films, meet with limited or no
distribution,  and then graduate into the industry or disappear.  The
larger figures have their own problems; Bertolucci seems to be on the
way towards becoming the bourgeoisie's darling, Godard stubbornly
flounders  in isolation and ineffectuality, and the Czechs Forman, Kadar
and Passer, Glauber Rocha, and others are men without a country.

After I Am Curious Yellow, Last Tango in Paris, A Clockwork Orange,
or Straw Dogs, it is becoming increasingly difficult to shock the
bourgeoisie, who now accept all insults with a benign smile,
secure in the knowledge that their pockets are not being
picked simultaneously.  When danger of this does arise, the
smile disappears and power reasserts itself, for instance, by
wiping out the leading cadre of the Black Panther party in
intricate ways, driving underground the radical left, or encou-
raging it by means of agent provocateurs to blow itself up.
Somewhere between the smile and its absence, a brief attempt
is made (not always unsuccessful) to buy off the oppositionist
by four-color covers in national magazines or by extensive TV
exposure at peak hours (by which, between six commercials,
he believes himself to be advancing the cause of revolution).

Nor should we forget those discredited minions of law and order, the
censors, another cog in the generalized web of gentle suppression.
 Since it is their duty to conserve and that of the artist to "go beyond",
they are forever at odds with him and, more importantly, forever
lagging behind him.  They are always shocked anew by yet further
descents into unspeakable immorality and political unorthodoxy,
disregarding the historical fact that yesterday's outrage is
today's truth (or cliche) and that the elimination of taboos
is the order of the day in all fields of human endeavor.

As for the censoring of the presumably subversive, it is universal
and seems to operate equally perniciously under all systems.
There are Russian films by young filmmakers that no one
outside (or even inside) Russia has ever seen; the Russians
tried for years to prevent Andrei Roublev from being shown
abroad.  Americans may not see films from Cuba; Eastern
Europeans are prevented from viewing Western political films,
unless critical of the West; Arabs may not see Israeli films
and Israelis, until a few years ago, could not see German ones;
France did not permit The Battle of Algiers to be shown and
then prohibited the left-wing 1968 "cine-tracts".  American
experimental films sent to festivals abroad have been confisca-
ted upon return, as the repressive American customs law has
no objection to their export but will not allow their re-entry
(presumably with the piquant theory that it is legitimate
for Americans to corrupt foreigners but not themselves).
Swedes can see sex films, but not films of violence.  Americans,
until 1974, could view pornographic films in regular theatres
provided they were American-made; European pornographic
films -- or even films featuring only frontal nudity -- cannot
be imported.  Brazil banned Prato Palomares, France banned
Do Not Deliver Us From Evil, Yugoslavia banned WR - Mysteries
of the Organism, the Czech pre-Dubcek government attempted,
in vain, to "recall" Jan Palach (film record of the young Czech
martyr's funeral) from abroad.  Every country has its own
favorite subversive, without whose suppression it presumably
could not continue to exist.  Further, apart from direct political
suppression of films, there exists an even more efficient system
of "censorship" prior to production; this consists of the mere with-
holding of private financing in the West, or of state financing in the East.

It is therefore important not to confuse the quality of particular subversive
films with their effectiveness.  Many of the most important films in this
book -- The Blood of the Beasts, Hour of the Blast Furnaces, Fata Morgana,
Kirsa Nicholina, Red Squad, Andrei Roublev, Our Lady of the Turks, La
Revelateur, Viva La Muerte -- even more widely seen works such as WR -
Mysteries of the Organism or Weekend -- have had only very limited distribution.

Subversive cinema, in precise delineation of its precarious, largely powerless
role vis-a-vis the state, is left with a host of unanswered questions, ranging
from the paradoxical to the unpleasant.  It appears that the less subversive
a film, the wider its potential audience; and the more conventional in form,
the more people it might hope to attract, but the fewer will be affected.
It appears that it is possible for Kubrick to tone down A Clockwork Orange
after its release to obtain a (literally) more profitable "rating", and that
the sodomy scene can be cut from Last Tango in Paris to allow the film's
presentation in England; if such climactic scenes are not considered
important enough to keep in, why were they put into the films to begin
with? It also appears that Bunuel's Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie
is distributed by Twentieth Century Fox; is the company unaware of
its seditious implications or are these too weak to matter? The makers
of  Red Square were molested by police and FBI during and after its
production; but they are "at liberty" (their names securely listed in
some master  file) and continue as before -- as does the Red Squad.
Certain oppositional films from the East were "allowed" pro forma one-
week runs in one or a few theatres in the countries involved, permitting
them to announce their democratic liberalism while keeping the fabric of
suppression firmly intact.  The directors of the subversive cinema are often
serious theoreticians and fire fellow intellectuals and critics with their fervor.
 BUT THE REAL QUESTION REMAINS:  HOW TO REACH THE MASSES "OUT
THERE" WITH FIVE HEAVY CANS OF 35mm FILM AND NOWHERE TO SHOW
THEM?  This is the meaning of the tragic quest of Godard, the reason why
respect must be paid to the man even if one lacks confidence in his direction.

In the last analysis, however, subversive cinema has on its side two factors
of such fundamental significance that they justify both its role and the
writing of this book; the inevitable creation of new injustices and horror
by the existing power systems (cumulative, in the age of technology
and atomic power) and the concomitant rise of ever new cadres of
rebels in every generation -- another way of saying that subversive
cinema could not exist without its enemies.  Any pessimism regarding
the failure of one talent or the co-option of another is outweighed by
the spectacular flow of new generational talent and fresh, hot anger.
With confidence in the inevitable crimes of one side and the inevitable
reaction of the other, one can therefore look forward to future contests,
their outcome by no means predetermined, since problems that seem
insurmountable today will yield to the more complex intelligence
of children still playing ball in the parks of the world.

2001:  A SPACE ODYSSEY
(Stanley Kubrick, Great Britain, 1968)  (F)
Cult film of the young, this is a manifesto of the new sen-
sibility; a nostalgic elegy to innocence lost to technology,
a vision of truths beyond understanding.  It ends with
unforgettable images of the new star child in space, facing
 the earth he must transform to make it human again.  SC