Page To Screen # 2

Firstly we have two of the latest books in the acclaimed Short Cuts series from Wallflower Press. The series, marketed as ‘a comprehensive list of introductory texts covering the full spectrum of Film Studies’, has provided some compelling and accessible studies of various aspects of cinema and these newest additions continue the trend. Cinema And History: The Telling Of Stories (by Mike Chopra-Gant, published by Wallflower Press) examines the multitude of ways in which film history can be understood and how history can be better investigated through the analysis of cinema. With productive readings of, amongst others, Rear Window – which looks beyond the traditional concentration on it’s metacinematic nature and places the film in a context of the 1950s crisis in American masculinity – and United 93 - in an examination of how real events are presented on screen – this is a persuasive and well argued study. German Expressionist Cinema (by Ian Roberts, published by Wallflower Press) provides studies of some of the classics of the genre, including The Cabinet Of Dr Caligari and Nosferatu, alongside less well known examples such as Asphalt. Again, persuasive and well-researched, the book provides an overview of the many theories on the genre coupled with close textual analysis. Both books excel by being academic yet accessible: a boon for film students and a great introduction for those who simply want to learn more.

Given that he’s often been referred to as the ‘literary equivalent of a Big Mac and Fries’, it’s unsurprising the literary work – much less the cinematic work – of Stephen King has often been ignored by scholars. In The Films of Stephen King: From Carrie to Secret Window (edited by Tony Magistrale, published by Palgrave Macmillan) Magistrale attempts to redress the balance as he argues that, even with such a prolific body of work  (there are more than 80 films based on his stories), King’s works have been deliberately excluded from attention. Some of the essays presented here – including a fascinating examination entitled Teen Hierarchies In Carrie alongside Communist Myth in Kubrick’s The Shining - show how keenly King managed to penetrate into the psyche of America and how, some directors at least, were able to translate these observations to the big screen. Other essays such as Tonka Terrors: Humor and Horror of “Trucks” examine King’s own position as a brand in himself whilst there are also fruitful examinations of King’s post-modern leanings and his treatment of race in The Green Mile. A fine attempt to improve and interpret the cinematic reputation of one of the 20th century’s most prolific and popular authors.

Mike Leigh On Mike Leigh (edited by Amy Raphael, published by Faber and Faber) sees the spiky British director in wonderfully acerbic form as he reminisces about his storied career from television plays such as Abigail’s Party to the phenomenal success of recent films such as Vera Drake and Happy-Go-Lucky.  Leigh is famously reticent in talking about his work but Amy Raphael does an excellent and thorough job in managing to get him to open up. He talks about the genesis of his projects, his working methods – which, true to form, entails telling the actors very little about the film in order that their reactions are genuine – and even a little bit about his personal life. Leigh is certainly fascinating and his trademark grumpiness, which rears its head from time to time, actually adds to the charm of the book and he skewers various TV and film insiders and – of course – journalists. Another brilliantly comprehensive and engaging book in Faber and Faber’s series of interviews with the world’s greatest directors; this proves an essential purchase both for Mike Leigh fans and those who love British cinema.

The advent of both DVD and downloading has meant that the era of the ‘lost movie’ has started to become, well, lost. Whilst there was once a time when an obscure film would linger in the reaches of the memory with the vague hope it may turn up on television to remind yourself that “Yes, it does exist,” there is now a chance to catch something on one of the many thousands of digital channels or download it from hundreds of on-line sources. As 101 Forgotten Films (by Brian Mills, published by Kamera Books) shows, it’s now a perfect time to go and unearth those neglected gems from cinema history. Mills takes a chronological approach to talk about those films that have been lost to cinema history due to distribution problems, director arguments and the many other problems that can prevent a film from coming to the big screen. From movies such as Orson Welles’ Black Magic, a fascinating sounding tale of fakery and misdirection that precedes F For Fake by some years, to Robert Altman’s satire HealtH, Mills creates tantalising and interesting descriptions of films still to be seen by the majority of film fans alongside the possibility of actually seeing said movies on DVD in the near future. Whilst some of the bios of stars and directors that are scattered throughout veer towards filler material, this is a fun book to dip in and out of. Some will relish the challenge of trying to see the majority of films whilst others may have fun in adding their own ‘lost classics’ to the list. Now, I’m off to track down a copy of Henry Jaglom’s seemingly bonkers A Safe Place….

One of the most enduring characters in cinema may actually be that of the city itself. Whilst Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson act their socks off in Lost In Translation without Tokyo – with it’s dizzying nature and bright lights – ably supporting them, the film would have been lacking a certain something. Cities In Transition (edited by Andrew Webber and Emma Wilson, published by Wallflower Press) takes a rigourous look at how cities have been represented in the cinema, how the use of space have affected the aesthetic of cinema and – even – how films themselves have affected urban space. Taking a strong interdisciplinary approach, with contributions from the likes of film historians, architects and filmmakers, the book will prove heavy going for those without a strong academic background. But for those who know what to expect, this is an insightful collection with particularly engaging essays on the work of Chris Marker, an examination of Urban Space and Early Film from Patrick Keiller (best known for his excellent film London) and a dense but intriguing essay from Henry Jenkins entitled Looking at the city in The Matrix franchise. A thorough and important collection of studies.

Deep breath now: Charlie Kaufman and Hollywood's Merry Band of Pranksters, Fabulists and Dreamers: An Excursion into the American New Wave (by Derek Hill, published by Kamera Books) examines the impact of a new generation of American filmmakers including Wes Anderson, Spike Jonze and Richard Linklater. Examining the oeuvre of each he finds that each of their refusal to conform to narrative norms are related to almost Dadaist assault on convention and normality. Whilst some of Hill’s contentions seem a trifle forced – such as trying to connect the current crop of directors with the French New Wave – this is a book written in a light and easy tone that never fails to hold the interest.

A mention of The Duchess (by Amanda Foreman, published by Harper Perennial) recently turned into a film starring Keira Knightley. It’s a wonderfully written historical study of Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire whose fame and notoriety swept throughout 18th century London. A tale of sexual indiscretion, tortured friendships, political intrigue and a society based on society, it’s a brilliantly gripping story that not only tells the story of a remarkable woman but give a fine historical background of English society at the time. Foreman’s phenomenal research coupled with her breathless writing style, which keeps everything moving at a cracking pace, makes for an absolutely riveting read. If the idea of historical biography leaves you cold then this may prove to be the perfect introduction.

Finally, in carrying on a tradition well established within Special Editon (HERE ), we have the latest Doctor Who novels for your perusal. These original works are fun, lightweight pieces of work that are – for the most part – wonderfully entertaining. Ghosts Of India (by Mark Morris, published by BBC Books) sees The Doctor and Donna team up with Ghandi (yes, really, but it’s not as crass as it sounds) in a fun little historical adventure set in Calcutta during 1947. As always, there are mysterious events, strange monsters and lots of running in a fun little tale. The Doctor’s Trap (by Simon Messingham, published by BBC Books) is a little more dense, with double bluffs galore as The Doctor finds himself being hunted down as he is the last of his kind. The constant revelations sometimes get a little wearisome, but this still contains many nice ideas and the characterisation of The Doctor is spot-on. The best of the bunch is Shining Darkness (by Mark Michalowski, by BBC Books) a witty adventure in which The Doctor tackles sentient machines and the people who oppose them. With a touch of DouglasAdams, some resonant views on the nature of racism and a couple of sly digs at fandom it will appeal to hardcore fans and newbies alike.

Page to Screen will return in the next few weeks. If you have any books/magazines/fanzines that you think should be covered then email This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. with full information. Also, if anyone has a favourite book to screen adaptation, let me know at the usual email.