June Butler finds a lot to like in Alex Cox’s Introduction to Film – A Director’s Perspective.
Alex Cox’s An Introduction to Film – A Director’s Perspective is probably one of the best in-depth pieces written on cinema for some time – not since Peter Biskind’s Gods and Monsters or the equally wonderful Hollywood’s Second Sex by Aubrey Malone, has anecdotal story telling become such an intrinsic part of reading film. From Cox’s text, it is eminently clear how deep his passion for the magic of movies runs. Each description is imparted with authority and an easy familiarity that makes every narration so worthwhile. It makes readers want to investigate this book again and again.
Cox is probably better known for the Moviedrome series – a BBC weekly showing of cult films held during the summer months. The episodes commenced in 1988 headed by Alex Cox, and continued until 1994 where the series came to an end. It restarted in 1997 introduced by Mark Cousins but the second round lacked the connection Cox had so ably instilled in his loyal viewers and the final airing of Moviedrome was in 2000. While Cox did not chose the movies, he had some say in what was shown – his introductions to the films alone (according to die-hard fans), were considered more interesting than the screening itself and some viewers confessed to tuning in solely for Cox’s opening words. Although for this particular reader, no words could replace Robin Hardy’s 1973 film, The Wicker Man – happily included in the launch of Moviedrome.
| Cox’s book is a cross between expert storytelling and incredibly detailed research into all things cinema. He explains easily without making it obvious – chapters consisting of such titles as ‘The Editing Room’ and ‘Cinematography, The Frame, Understanding Crew Roles’, deconstructs the art of ‘how to’ rather than posing the question of ‘what’s that?’. At one stage, Cox makes the point that there is a ‘sort of insanity that follows film sets and goes on to narrate a number of instances where the safety of actors, extras, and stunt actors were placed in jeopardy. He cites The Day of the Locust (Dir. John Schlesinger, 1975), a big-budget movie where an unfinished and clearly unsafe film set collapsed beneath the cast and crew as they were filming. Cox then recounts a catastrophic accident on set for The Twilight Zone – a 1983 film based on the television series comprising four segments with separate directors (Joe Dante, John Landis, George Miller and Steven Spielberg). The devastating occurrence, which was placed firmly at the door of on-set negligence, caused three lives to be lost, of which two were children. Cox sums up the code of conduct when he says ‘there is a tendency to think, on movies sets, that the film is the most important thing. It isn’t. The most important thing is the safety of your cast and crew’. He damningly continues ‘making a film is also an opportunity for some people to behave extremely badly and immorally, and this has not been lost on filmmakers’. Cox doesn’t mention the culprits but such a statement coming from someone so well respected in writing on film makes readers pause for thought.
Cox manages to captivate completely from the first page right through to the last. His analytical skills are impressive and this book will delight every cinema lover and garner a few new fans to boot.
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