Death in Venice. 1971. Italy. Directed by Luchino Visconti
These notes accompany screenings of Luchino Visconti’s </em>Death in Venice</a> on June 11, 12, and 13 in Theater 3.</p>
It’s generally conceded in retrospect that such major directors as F. W. Murnau, Sergei Eisenstein, Marcel Carne, George Cukor, Vincente Minnelli, James Whale, and Edmund Goulding were gay.
Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry. 1971. USA. Directed by Don Siegel. Image courtesy Photofest
Don Siegel (1912–1991) was a director whose career had, in the words of biographer Judith M. Kass, “a historical uniqueness in terms of the Hollywood studio film.” My friend Judy emphasizes that Siegel “makes films that reflect himself,” which is ultimately what auteurism is all about.
Hans Hirschmueller in The Merchant of Four Seasons. 1971. West Germany. Directed by Rainer Werner Fassbinder
These notes accompany screenings of Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s </em>The Merchant of Four Seasons</a> on May 28, 29, and 30.</p>
Rainer Werner Fassbinder would have been 69 this coming Saturday. Tragically, however, he died in 1982, just days after his 37th birthday. Somehow, he managed to cram 44 directorial credits and 43 acting credits into this all-too-brief lifespan. In the process, Fassbinder managed to become Germany’s most noteworthy filmmaker since the golden age of Expressionism
Warren Beatty in McCabe & Mrs. Miller. 1971. USA. Directed by Robert Altman. © Warner Bros. Image courtesy Warner Bros./Photofest
These notes accompany screenings of Robert Altman’s </em>McCabe & Mrs. Miller</a> on May 21, 22, and 23 in Theater 3.</p>
Robert Altman (1925–2006) strikes me as being, on balance, the most interesting American director to come along after Orson Welles. He was obstreperous, inconsistent (one critic described his career as “rather weird”), sometimes difficult to work with (you don’t argue with a former bomber pilot), and provocatively idiosyncratic.
Jean-Louis Trintignant and Francoise Fabien in My Night at Maud’s. 1969. France. Written and directed by Eric Rohmer
These notes accompany screenings of Eric Rohmer’s </em>My Night at Maud’s</a> on May 14, 15, and 16 in Theater 3.</p>
At first glance, going from last week’s film (Night of the Living Dead) to this week’s (My Night at Maud’s) may seem like a journey from the ridiculous to the sublime, but not so fast.
Night of the Living Dead. 1968. USA. Directed by George A. Romero
These notes accompany screenings of George A. Romero’s </em>Night of the Living Dead</a> on May 7, 8, and 9 in Theater 2.</p>
The Wikipedia entry for Night of the Living Dead cites 126 references, not to mention extensive bibliography, external links, etc.
The Firemen’s Ball. 1967. Czechoslovakia. Directed by Milos Forman
These notes accompany screenings of Milos Forman’s </em>The Firemen’s Ball</a> on April 30 and May 1 and 2 in Theater 3.</p>
The career of Milos Forman (now 82) parallels in some ways that of Roman Polanski.
Belle de Jour. 1967. France. Directed by Luis Bunuel
These notes accompany screenings of Luis Buñuel’s </em>Belle de Jour</a> on April 23, 24, and 25 in Theater 2.</p>
Luis Buñuel (1900–1983) led one of the most interesting lives of any director and, consequently, the flow of his career often changed channels. Thematically, however, his films seem to adhere to an idiosyncratic personal (and highly unusual) reality.
Lee Marvin in Point Blank. 1967. USA. Directed by John Boorman
These notes accompany screenings of John Boorman’s </em>Point Blank</a> on April 16, 17, and 18 in Theater 2.</p>
John Boorman remains active at age 81, enjoying a directorial career of over half a century. He began with several documentaries, followed by Having a Wild Weekend (Catch Us If You Can), which attempted to do for the Dave Clark Five what Richard Lester had done for the Beatles with A Hard Day’s Night.
Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway in Bonnie and Clyde. 1967. USA. Directed by Arthur Penn
These notes accompany screenings of Arthur Penn’s </em>Bonnie and Clyde</a> on April 9, 10, and 11 in Theater 2.</p>
In some ways Bonnie and Clyde was a startling revelation that might be considered the beginning of modern American cinema. Its graphic violence (and a certain candor about sex) was the immediate sensation, but it also led to a cinema that fundamentally questions basic American conservative values and capitalism itself.
If you are interested in reproducing images from The Museum of Modern Art web site, please visit the Image Permissions page (www.moma.org/permissions). For additional information about using content from MoMA.org, please visit About this Site (www.moma.org/site).
© Copyright 2016 The Museum of Modern Art