As a longtime arts reviewer, I shy away at making declarations about who or what may be best in a given field. It’s a stance based on, as I have written here before, my contention that assessing the arts and its creative talents is qualitative not quantitative.
But if push comes to shove comes to being forced to declare who may be the greatest contemporary film director, I would have to say it’s Martin Scorsese. That’s not to deny that there aren’t arguably other filmmakers whose talents and work are comparatively just as substantial – Steven Spielberg for one obvious choice, among others – but a declaration of greatness that’s of course influenced by my tastes and preferences. Which of course then brings my declaration of his greatness back around to a matter of my personal aesthetic.
Another big factor in my touting of Scorsese is his abundant lifelong love for cinema in almost all its forms. (I did get a chuckle when he recently declared Marvel movies “not cinema” likening them to “theme parks.”) And how he ardently shares his devotion to the art form. I have come to think of him as my graduate degree professor if film – the source from which I learn more about film than anywhere else.
This notion came to me not long ago when I watched “A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese through American Movies,” which was made in partnership with the British Film Institute and released in 1995. It’s a three-part series that examines the birth, growth, development and innovations of US cinema from a largely auteurist viewpoint, divvying up its approach into the director as storyteller, illusionist, smuggler and iconoclast (Scorsese has arguably been all four). His macro viewpoint is enlightening, and almost whenever he talks about films or a specific movie, he notes those small but key micro touches, techniques and other matters of significance.
Hence in a profile in The New Yorker in 2000, aptly titled “The Man Who Forgets Nothing” (identifying one big reason why he is such an abundant guide to cinema), a mere mention of British filmmaker Michael Powell led me to start dipping into a filmography where there is much to be learned, especially in how creatively Powell uses the unique characteristics of black and white film.
The “Personal Journey” doc formed his 1997 book of the same name, which is now on my reading list even if I have seen the film. I’ve already avidly read through the book “Scorsese on Scorsese.” And also plan on reading the more recent “Conversations with Scorsese.”
Another of his “personal journeys” in his documentaries about film is “My Voyage to Italy,” in which he spotlights and discusses the history of Italian cinema. It’s that “personal” aspect that helps make his commentaries about film so compelling. In the Italian film doc he keys into his ethnic heritage, and both there and elsewhere he talks about how he came to love film, which involves growing up in New York’s Little Italy. Some of the city’s broadcast TV stations would show films on Saturday afternoons. And Manhattan has long has boasted theaters that were art and revival houses that facilitated seeing older films in the days before video, DVDs and streaming.
When Scorsese talks or writes about film, his abundant affection for, interest in and dedication to cinema is palpable, which makes his commentaries even more compelling. If you really love movies, he’s the man to keep an ear to and eye on to better know and understand the art form.
Hence, to me, that all helps earn him “best” stature. And even if his career has its lesser moments – the flawed “New York, New York” as it was released in 1977, and his involvement in the abominable HBO series “Vinyl,” to name a few – his filmography can be just as educational. There’s no better guide to film that I know of than Scorsese, and I will continue to learn from his expertise for as long as I can read and view.
Book: “Songbook” by Nick Hornby – The English novelist whose best-seller “High Fidelity” made into a hit movie was driven by his love for music offers meaty and engaging essays on pop, rock and soul songs he loves.
TV Series: “Schitt’s Creek” – A wealthy family loses everything to wind up living in a small town motel. This sitcom created by comic actor Eugene Levy (of “SCTV” fame) and his son Daniel Levy sports a nice balance of funny and touching over its five binge-worthy seasons.
Rob Patterson is a music and entertainment writer in Austin, Texas. Email orca@prismnet.com.
From The Progressive Populist, March 1, 2020
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