Todd Berliner, HOLLYWOOD AESTHETIC PDF

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Todd Berliner, Hollywood Aesthetic: Pleasure in American Cinema (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 320 pp., $39.95 (paperback). ISBN: 9780190658755. Reviewed by Frank P. Tomasulo Todd Berliner’s Hollywood Aesthetic: Pleasure in American Cinema starts right off by establishing a central questio...

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Todd Berliner, HOLLYWOOD AESTHETIC Frank P Tomasulo, Ph.D. PROJECTIONS: The Journal for Movies and Mind

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Book Review, St eve Neale's GENRE AND HOLLYWOOD Frank P Tomasulo, Ph.D. Hollywood Aest het ic: Pleasure in American Cinema by Todd Berliner (Review) Grant Wiedenfeld Discussion on how films like Dancer in t he Dark (Lars Von Trier, 2000) and Inglourious Bast erds (Quent i… Alla Dryzhak

Todd Berliner, Hollywood Aesthetic: Pleasure in American Cinema (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017), 320 pp., $39.95 (paperback). ISBN: 9780190658755. Reviewed by Frank P. Tomasulo Todd Berliner’s Hollywood Aesthetic: Pleasure in American Cinema starts right off by establishing a central question: “What is it about Hollywood movies that people enjoy that makes people enjoy them?” (xi). He also makes a basic distinction early on that persists throughout the volume: there are (1) “mainstream” movies, which tend toward “uniformity,” and (2) “complex” films that prize “originality” (ix). As such, this study eschews a selection process that favors either canonical box-office successes or award-winning art cinema. Berliner basically relies on two major approaches: cognitive science and close textual analysis. As someone who finds fault with several aspects of the cognitive film studies agenda, I was somewhat disappointed by the many passages that brought scientific data and cognitive cinema scholarship to bear on the movies discussed en passim. Nonetheless, I was pleased by the insights provided by the author’s discerning descriptions and astute analyses of the film techniques that provided conscious or unconscious pleasure to viewers. The first sentence of the Introduction establishes a belief that is quite debatable: “People seek out Hollywood cinema primarily for entertainment” (1). Even in the Hollywood cinema, it is not the entertainment factor that attracts me, but, rather, the Marcusean “aesthetic dimension,” what Roland Barthes called “the pleasure of the text.” That said, one of the best features of this volume is the way that the author synopsizes many scholarly theories about Hollywood’s appeal to mass audiences. Whether it be the “accessibility” hypothesis of entertainment, studio hegemony argument, high-concept model, star persona paradigm, or “dominant ideology” ideology, Berliner describes them all well, if only to point out their basic flaws (2-5). In doing so, the author emphasizes “(1) the intrinsic properties of Hollywood cinema that induce aesthetic pleasure, (2) the cognitive and affective pleasures … that become engaged …, and (3) the exhilarated aesthetic experiences afforded by an array of persistently entertaining Hollywood movies” (5). Aesthetic pleasure is defined as “a pleasure of the mind, dependent on an artwork’s sensory properties, involving appreciation of [its] character, content, or structure” (6). Cognitive science is introduced to explain “poetics,” a methodological template used by several film scholars, especially after the publication of David Bordwell’s influential “A Case for Cognitivism” (1989). Needless to say, that methodology has often emphasized sheer perception as the basis of any theory of cinematic pleasure or meaning. This sometimes simplistic emphasis on the visible, while a useful corrective to some of the excesses of “SLAB” (Saussure/Lacan/Althusser/Barthes) theory, neglects one of the most important aspects of cinematic pleasure: the ineffable. Indeed, most of Berliner’s astute observations in Hollywood Aesthetic are not completely dependent on cognitivism, nor is he one of the most one-dimensional and reductionist acolytes of the cognitivist methodology. Chapter One, “The Hollywood Aesthetic,” begins with a brief rundown of early studio

practices and the financial reasons behind the development of the classical Hollywood style. Indeed, one of the best aspects of this book, from a methodological perspective, is that it successfully combines industry history with textual history (18), a synthesis rarely achieved in other accounts of Hollywood film. This paradigm is not always efficacious, however; at times, it forces Berliner into characterizing many talented but hardly groundbreaking mainstream studio practitioners as “innovative” – i.e., John Ford and Cecil B. DeMille – in that they “pushed the boundaries of standard practice” (20). This mislabeling continues into the later decades. Nonetheless, the author makes an erudite case for his account, buttressing it with references to aestheticians such as Schopenhauer, Kant, Dewey, Gombrich, Noël Carroll, and David Bordwell. Chapter Two, “Classicism and Deviation in His Girl Friday and Double Indemnity,” uses these two films to demonstrate how they “complicate formal patterning and disrupt audience expectations, even as they obey Classical Hollywood’s formal imperatives” (33). Here, the cognitive grid, which often emphasizes a film’s perceptual legibility, does not, in the main, prevent Berliner from addressing the complexity of these two rather different movies. Chapter Three, “Hollywood Storytelling,” focuses on narrational issues, especially with regard to the cognitive activities that spectators perform while viewing conventional films. My quibble is that most viewers do much more than simply follow a plot line; they also think and feel beyond the level of mere stimulus-response (at least I do!). At one point, Berliner even seems to concede this point: “[Cognitivism] accounts for spectator comprehension of Hollywood narration, but how do we explain spectator enjoyment?” (54). Many hypothetical and actual examples are presented – often based on narrative convolution or incongruity, twist endings, and ambiguous resolutions. These films also provide pleasure: the gratification of “mentally resolv[ing] plot information” (69). That may be why “we might feel in the mood for a David Lynch movie” (69). Chapter Four, “Finding the Fit,” is a close textual analysis of Red River. This section elaborates on some significant aspects of screenwriting, including “planting and payoff” (aka foreshadowing) but also suggests that Red River is hardly classical in its construction or character relationships. Here, Berliner is at his best, analyzing the narrative structure to show its “gaps and fissures” while also establishing the “fuzzy connections” among various plot strands and character expectations (76-81). Chapter Five is devoted to “Hollywood Style,” an element often treated as an “add-on,” an aspect of cinema that is secondary to plot, character, and theme, even in film scholarship. Berliner’s first example is a “dull” scene from The Exorcist, when Regan’s mother walks past a group of children dressed in Halloween costumes. On the one hand, this visual juxtaposition invokes narrative foreshadowing of devilry. On the other hand, the addition of the eerie “Tubular Bells” music on the soundtrack raises the stakes and ups the ante to a frightening subtext for the audience. I agree with Berliner that style does more than enrich “the clarity and expressiveness of Hollywood storytelling.” As he notes, “A film’s style may also compete with story, genre, and even itself for control of a film’s mood and meaning” (85). Chapter Six presumably tests the storytelling-is-primary axiom via the example of “Raging Bull’s Stylistic Dissonance.” Berliner states that “it’s a wonder viewers can make sense” of the

final fight scene, given its “bizarre and implausible imagery” (115): discontinuous editing, odd camera angles, slo-mo punches, and even smoke effects. However, most spectators no doubt make allowances for such distortions by unconsciously inferring that they represent a heightened portrayal of the brutal details of a championship boxing match: sweat spraying from a head, smoking fight fans, etc. Is the film really “on the brink of absurdity” (126)? Do many “average spectators” scratch their heads and ask, “Was this bout really conducted in slow motion?” or “Did Sugar Ray Robinson really throw such awkward punches?” Berliner assumes that the film’s initial mixed reception was because of these “challenging” postmodernist cinematic techniques; I would argue that the uncompromisingly unsympathetic protagonist was the main factor in its initial boxoffice and critical failure, as noted in my own essay on the movie (Tomasulo). That said, Berliner is at his best when he brilliantly describes and analyzes Scorsese’s “collision editing,” Steadicam shots, lighting effects, and other techniques using well-chosen scenes as reference points. Any student or scholar might, like me, write “Wow!” in the margins on being shown how to “read” and evaluate such minute details. Chapter Seven, “Ideology, Emotion, and Aesthetic Pleasure,” addresses some of the thorniest questions taken up by cognitive film theory. The author synopsizes these views well, without resorting to the Straw Person arguments that too often cloud and distort discussion. This is a very erudite literature review, especially when he attempts to fuse ideological and aesthetic analysis into a coherent explanation of Hollywood’s “pleasure principle.” The strategy here is to turn the arguments of ideological critics on their heads: instead of “[view]ing Hollywood as an instrument of ideology’s oppressive goals,” Berliner wants to explore “the mechanisms by which a film’s ideological properties contribute to its aesthetic appeal” (137). One of those mechanisms is violence, especially in the action and western genres. Here, Berliner repeats the common industry bromide that these genres traffic in action, not violence (138). Unlike many quantitative analysts who merely count up the number of violent acts in movies (including those of cartoon characters) and then associate those statistics with a propensity for viewers to behave violently, the author realizes that there can both “good” violence and “bad” violence. Of course, those lines can be blurred, as in the Dirty Harry or Die Hard series, in which the flawed antihero uses extralegal means to achieve justice, but Berliner wisely notes that film “spectators approve [movie] violence [in a good cause], even though they may deplore similar behavior in real life” (139). Chapter Eight focuses on “Crime Films during the Period of the PCA.” The Code of Censorship was, of course, a major factor in the writing, filming, and eventual impact of every studio film for over thirty years. Berliner makes a unique contribution to that hoary history by discussing in depth the “poetics” of the crime genre while under the thrall of self-imposed industry restrictions. Part of that poetics involves ideological complexities, including gangsters who “tacitly elicit sympathy” despite the PCA’s regulations against glorifying crime or criminals (160). Berliner’s first example is The Asphalt Jungle, and although he focuses on character ambiguity and spectator comprehension in this film noir, he still manages to demonstrate the role of a disruptive cinematic style in several frames and clips (161-166).

In Chapter Nine, “Genre and Ideology in Starship Troopers,” the question of mixed genres is addressed. Although the chosen movie may indeed have many genre ingredients in its stew, an admixture of genre conventions is not that rare, even in classical Hollywood cinema. Berliner insists that “predictability constitutes the primary appeal of filmgoing” (169), yet, as Umberto Eco has proven, popular pictures like Casablanca often “contain multitudes,” like Walt Whitman’s poetry. I was pleased to see that the author distinguishes between genre breaking and genre bending (a coinage Berliner invented in his earlier volume, Hollywood Incoherent), especially since many critics and scholars make grandiose claims of originality for minor deviations from the norm. As he says, “Genre bending is not, by its nature, subversive” (170). I was less thrilled, though, by the suggestion that those films that do “break” genre conventions are usually relegated to the slow death of box-office poison. In my view, the common toxin among movies such as Citizen Kane, Vertigo, Touch of Evil, Apocalypse Now, Raging Bull, Blade Runner, and Brazil is their downbeat themes, characters, and endings, not their generic eccentricities. To its credit, Hollywood Aesthetic often references the aesthetic contributions of casting and performance tropes, an element too often neglected by cinema scholars until very recently. Although “The Hollywood Genre System” seems to be the subject of many of the first nine chapters, it is the title of Chapter Ten. Berliner goes a long way toward establishing an intelligent means by which to debate the implications of the Hollywood system. Using the Rocky series – now in its eighth incarnation with Creed II (2018) – as an exemplar, the author wisely points out how that the boxing franchise uses presold elements, the pleasure of the familiar, and recurring aesthetic elements (i.e., a title sequence that “pops,” Bill Conti’s musical scores, the underdog protagonist, and a conclusive ending in the ring) to attract repeat viewers. However, this approach skirts some of the important variations within the series, including the Cold War politics of Rocky IV and, in the later sequels, Rocky’s post-pugilistic life. Also in Chapter Ten, the definitions slide again. Berliner’s examples of “complex” films include The Maltese Falcon, Shadow of a Doubt, Leave Her to Heaven, Double Indemnity, Red River, and All the King’s Men (193). Even using cognitive science, these films can hardly be called complicated; most audience members can easily comprehend their plots and characters. The point seems to be that a mere mix of genres creates complexity, as in Star Wars – a kiddie film! True complexity should be reserved for more contemporary Hollywood films such as Memento, The Matrix, and Inception, which are said to be easily understood because of viewers’ improved “knowledge of the flashback convention” (199-200). Maybe, but I have a Ph.D. in Film Studies and I have trouble following those movies! The Hollywood Musical is the subject of Chapter Eleven, but cognitive understandability is still given pride of place. Most musicals are inherently problematic – if one expects them to observe the rules of quotidian reality. Again, most viewers make the necessary allowances and accept the unrealistic conventions of the genre, just as they accepted them for opera and ballet for centuries. Yes, it may be a “novelty [that] requires some cognitive adjustment” (203) when one hears deep adult singing voices coming out of the mouths of children in Bugsy Malone, but don’t

most people adjust immediately and realize that it is a gag? Of course, some cinema scholars have averred that “when the music starts, the narrative ends,” but that familiar view can be challenged and disproven by countless songs that advance the story and the characters’ developments in musicals, including Berliner’s example, The Jazz Singer (205). Berliner also insists that modern “filmgoers, now unfamiliar with the convention of spontaneous song, no longer accept [musicals]” (209). But the commercial and Motion Picture Academy recognition of films such as Moulin Rouge, Chicago, Hairspray, La La Land, and The Greatest Showman belie that proposition. At times, this chapter tries to incorporate background music into its “musical” purview: “Born to Be Wild” in Easy Rider, “Everybody’s Talkin’” in Midnight Cowboy, Cat Stevens’s songs in Harold and Maude, etc. But these movies are hardly musicals by almost any definition of the term; indeed, nondiegetic commentative music was even employed in dramas and comedies during the silent period. Chapter Twelve, the concluding chapter, is a brief recapitulation of the book’s key points. As such, it feels somewhat like a repetition of lessons learned, especially since each chapter already ends with its own Conclusion. Nonetheless, this final section does clarify some of the volume’s loose ends. For one, a clear distinction is established between “average spectators” and “film experts” in terms of their respective levels of appreciation of aesthetic pleasure: “Films that confound the film novice might delight the expert, while films that delight the film novice are liable to bore the expert” (239). I am reminded of the possibly apocryphal remark attributed to Jean-Luc Godard: “Whenever an artistically conceived film becomes a commercial success, it means there’s been a big misunderstanding.” One especially valuable feature is that readers can access a website with video clips of the scenes discussed in the text. This feature provides cinematic support for the author’s commentary on relevant sequences and enhances the overall learning experience. Thus, Hollywood Aesthetic can function as both a well-written work of academic scholarship and a potential course textbook. Despite some nitpicky reservations, I recommend it wholeheartedly to film professors and students alike. Frank P. Tomasulo is the author of Michelangelo Antonioni: Ambiguity in the Modernist Cinema (2019), the co-editor of More Than a Method (2004), and hundreds of essays and conference papers on film and television subjects. He was also the Editor of both the Journal of Film and Video and Cinema Journal. Email: [email protected]

References Berliner, Todd. Hollywood Incoherent: Narration in Seventies Cinema. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2010. Bordwell, David. “A Case for Cognitivism.” Iris 9 (1989): 11–40. Eco, Umberto. “Casablanca: Cult Movies and Intertextual Collage.” SubStance 14.2 (1985): 312.

Marcuse, Herbert. The Aesthetic Dimension: Toward a Critique of Marxist Aesthetics. Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1978. Tomasulo, Frank P. “Raging Bully: Postmodern Violence and Masculinity in Raging Bull.” Mythologies of Violence in Postmodern Media, edited by Christopher Sharrett. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1999, 175-197....