Since the early days of cinema, horror has been an intellectually arresting and commercially successful genre. With their fantastic creatures, suspenseful narratives, and captivating imagery, horror films have kept moviegoers coming back for more. Like the cinematic monsters they depict, such movies have proven to be inexhaustibly mutable, adapting with each passing age to reflect the fears and concerns of a particular historical moment. For example, the ever-present vampire film has gone from portraying the likes of Count Orlok, the repulsive vampire of F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu (1922), seen as a representation of xenophobia, to the more urbane and seductive vampires of the 1980s, including Catherine Deneuve’s Miriam in The Hunger (1983) and Tom Cruise’s Lestat in Interview with the Vampire (1994)—figures representing a critique of homophobia and sexual repression.
In this survey course, we will explore of some of the seminal monsters that have haunted the silver screen, and our collective imaginations, throughout film history, beginning in the heyday of the Universal Pictures monster-movie era with James Whale’s 1931 adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Subsequently, we will look at classic and contemporary films about vampires, zombies, and other bêtes noires. Additional films include (but are not limited to) E. Elias Merhige’s Shadow of the Vampire (2000) and Danny Boyle’s spectacularly imaginative addition to the zombie film canon, 28 Days Later (2002). Join us, if you dare.
The course includes an optional and complimentary visit to the Rosenbach Museum and Library in downtown Philadelphia for a private tour and lecture on their exhibit, Frankenstein and Dracula: Gothic Monsters, Modern Science. Date and time to be determined.
Bryn Mawr Film Institute has upgraded its website, and you will now need to log into an account on BrynMawrFilm.org to register for classes, buy tickets, and renew your membership online. Don’t worry! The process is quick and easy, and you’ll only need to do it once. Click here to complete your online account. If you’re having difficulty creating an account or logging in call our dedicated helpline at (610) 295-1356 between 10:00 am and 9:00 pm.
Depending on one’s age, the term “action film” conjures up images of a lethal Sean Connery, a thuggish Lee Marvin, a stoic Clint Eastwood, or a brawny Arnold Schwarzenegger. What these stars—or rather their action movies—have in common is that in their respective times, they were dismissed by critics, ignored by cineastes, overlooked by much of Hollywood, and in general not taken seriously—except at the box office. A more recent entry, a rejuvenated Sylvester Stallone in the aptly named The Expendables, is a prime example.
Does this mean that contemporary action pictures are devoid of cultural significance or aesthetic beauty, hopelessly incapable of making contributions to cinematic art? We don’t think so, and as proof we offer the genre-redefining Die Hard (1988, shown on 35mm), one of John Woo’s stylish and moving Hong Kong tales, the atmospheric and contemplative work of Michael Mann (Heat, 1995; Collateral, 2004), and the intelligent and elegant Drive (2011), among others. In them, you will see bold stories about complex characters exploring issues of identity, morality, honor, and loyalty told through expressive cinematography, thoughtful performances, and, yes, the occasional gunfight, car chase, and explosion.
The quizzical notion that the primary purpose of the documentary is to provide an objective account of real events rose to dominance in America in the 1960s, along with the influence of direct cinema as practiced by such filmmakers as the Maysles Brothers (Gimme Shelter). This inclination lingers today, like an unwanted guest in the corner of a party muttering, “Michael Moore doesn’t make real documentaries because he’s biased!”
But in the last forty years, new generations of documentarians have questioned the primacy of objectivity and introduced a variety of self-conscious, reflexive techniques that have permanently transformed the ever-shifting practice of documentary filmmaking. This course will examine the ways in which this diverse body of work has shattered old myths and often blurred the line between fiction and non-fiction and, in so doing, revealed fascinating (and sometimes frustrating) new means of expressing “the truth” through documentary. Filmmakers such as Errol Morris, Ross McElwee, and Nick Broomfield, among others, will be discussed as we trace a convoluted path through this brave new world where no rule goes unchallenged.
Road movies have a distinct relationship to American culture: traveling in one’s own vehicle through sparsely settled lands recalls the national mythology of pioneers charting their own destinies. In this course, we’ll trace how the road movie develops as a genre that expresses the possibilities of freedom from social constraints, of finding one’s identity, and of connecting with others.
In the classic western Stagecoach (1939), a frontier journey represents the development of American national identity, as eight white characters from different backgrounds are forced to travel together in a cramped stagecoach and ultimately are united by the threat of an Apache attack. In Badlands (1973), it's clear that the liberating possibilities of travel have been replaced by fruitless attempts to live a countercultural existence: a young couple runs away from societal disapproval, only to be destroyed by their anti-social ways. The seminal New Queer Cinema film, My Own Private Idaho (1991) also focuses on young people outside of mainstream society, traveling across states and through different spaces that illustrate queer subcultures, and the class divides of America. Traveling has a healing effect in our final film, Barking Water (2009), in which a woman drives her dying former lover back to his home in the Seminole Nation of Oklahoma.
Together, we'll examine the common threads and diverse possibilities of the travel story, leading us to consider why film may be the ideal medium in which to tell stories of physical, psychological, and social journeys.
What do Katharine Hepburn's wit, Cary Grant's charm, and Claudette Colbert's glamour all have in common? They are in rare form in the screwball comedy. This course introduces students to the genre, also known as the “comedy of remarriage” because often, when boy meets girl and they fall in love, it is a road the two have gone down before.
But these films, most popular in the 1930s, are not just snappy patter and romantic hijinks. Beneath the surface they address important class, gender, and social issues, and do so with subtle aplomb under the watchful eye of the industry's then-new regulatory agency, the Production Code Administration.
Join us to laugh (and think) along with the screwball classics that we will discuss, which include It Happened One Night (Frank Capra, 1934), The Awful Truth (Leo McCarey, 1937), and Bringing Up Baby (Howard Hawks, 1938).
In these films, you, like Depression-era audiences, will see the noble working class getting the better of the idle rich, and sassy heiresses winning over wealthy playboys and blue-collar guys alike.
What do Katharine Hepburn's wit, Cary Grant's charm, and Claudette Colbert's glamour all have in common? They are in rare form in the screwball comedy. This course introduces students to the genre, also known as the 'comedy of remarriage' because often, when boy meets girl and they fall in love, it is a road the two have gone down before.
But these films, most popular in the 1930s, are not just snappy patter and romantic hijinks. Beneath the surface, they address important class, gender, and social issues, and do so with subtle aplomb under the watchful eye of the industry's then-new regulatory agency, the Production Code Administration.
Join us to laugh (and think) along with screwball classics including It Happened One Night (Frank Capra, 1934), The Awful Truth (Leo McCarey, 1937), and The Palm Beach Story (Preston Sturges, 1942). In these films, you, like Depression-era audiences, will see the noble working class getting the better of the idle rich, and sassy heiresses winning over wealthy playboys and blue-collar guys alike.
Springing forth from the colorful pages of the pulpy, dime store periodicals of our youth, films about mysterious, costumed crusaders—comic book movies—have been with us for decades in a range of shapes, sizes, colors, and budgets. Yet, despite such variety, these pictures all have in common heroes with extraordinary abilities who are able, or willing, to do the things of which we mere mortals can only dream.
Whether fighting fascism, postmodernism, bigotry, or terrorism (not to mention muggers, gangsters, and jokers) these heroes appeal to the better angels of our nature while combating the bitter devils of our culture.
Though, over the years, their flaws, complexities, and existential crises have begun to show through the slightest of cracks in their chiseled exteriors, these heroes have always been mythic figures—the Greek Gods of popular culture—whose brave and bold exploits have taught us as much about ourselves as any documentary.
Hollywood melodramas, also known as "women's films" or "weepies", enjoyed considerable popularity during the 1940s and 50s due in no small part to the presence of luminous stars, such as Joan Fontaine, Bette Davis, and Joan Crawford, and the skilled direction of iconic filmmakers like Alfred Hitchcock, Max Ophuls, and Douglas Sirk.
Of course, it didn't hurt that in such films these leading ladies were both prone to the mundane frustrations of middle-class domesticity and subjected to fantastic struggles with dangerous men, psychiatric maladies, and deadly female competition. These films were highly stylized as well, as directors augmented the characters' plights with chilling suspense, textured cinematography, and rich Technicolor.
But these pictures are more than soapy, big-screen entertainment. As the World War II years gave way to the postwar era, changes in American society—and women's roles in it—were roiling the culture. The melodrama of this time is a female counter, of sorts, to film noir, and it can be just as cynical and dark.
Hollywood melodramas, also known as "women's films" or "weepies," enjoyed considerable popularity during the industry’s golden age due in no small part to the presence of luminous stars, such as Barbara Stanwyck, Joan Crawford, and Lana Turner, and the skilled direction of legendary filmmakers like King Vidor, Michael Curtiz, and Douglas Sirk.
Of course, it didn't hurt that in such films these leading ladies were both prone to the mundane frustrations of middle-class domesticity and subjected to fantastic struggles with dangerous men, psychiatric maladies, and deadly female competition. These films were highly stylized as well, as directors augmented the characters' plights with chilling suspense, textured cinematography, and rich Technicolor.
But these pictures are more than soapy, big-screen entertainment. As the World War II years gave way to the post-war era, changes in American society—and women's roles in it—were roiling the culture. The melodrama of this time is a female counter, of sorts, to film noir, and it can be just as cynical and dark. Join us to shed some light on this genre through a discussion of films like Stella Dallas (1937), Mildred Pierce (1945), and Imitation of Life (1959).
Popularly known as "weepies", melodramas in the 1930s, '40s, and '50s were a force in the motion picture industry, directed by some of the most successful directors of the time, and attracting prominent leading ladies like Bette Davis and Joan Crawford.
With sweeping scores, hyperbolized emotion, and outlandish plots that included thwarted love, psychoses, and murder, melodramas were considered escapist fantasy for women, devoid of any intellectual depth. Though on closer examination, melodramas craft a unique aesthetic through camera movement, music, and lighting to address conflicts between the individual and society. This course focuses on prime examples of the genre, including Letter from an Unknown Woman and Now, Voyager.
The notion of the outlaw roaming across vast stretches of the American countryside with the authorities in hot pursuit has captivated our collective imagination since before the nation's very founding.
What is it about these social deviants we find so compelling? Is it their belligerent refusal to willingly submit to the at-times oppressive mores of our society? Is it their casting of caution to the wind, their devil-may-care freedom, short-lived though it may be? Indeed, such reckless abandon seems even more tantalizing precisely because it is so evanescent.
Whether perpetrated by hardened individuals, infatuated couples, or daring gangs, these doomed, ephemeral blazes of glory have been depicted on screen by some of our most ambitious directors. This course strives to redefine the outlaw by offering a vast composite of desperate, highly combative, and self-destructive characters that all chose to live and die outside the law. Films to be discussed include Fritz Lang's You Only Live Once (1937), Nicholas Ray's They Live by Night (1949), and The Night of the Hunter (1955), starring Robert Mitchum, himself one of Hollywood's great outlaws.
Science fiction films are almost as old as the cinema itself, dating back, most famously, to 1902 and French magician and filmmaker George Méliés's spectacular and groundbreaking "A Trip to the Moon." The genre was a natural choice for motion pictures, given the revolutionary and technological nature of the fledgling form and the fertile imaginations of so many of its pioneers.
Beyond their stunning visual elements, science fiction films serve as allegories for the societies that create them. From the German Expressionist dystopia of Metropolis (1927) to Cold War America's Forbidden Planet (1956), such movies offer glimpses into a culture's consciousness and insights into its fears and fantasies.
Join us as we screen a variety of films from the genre's rich history—including a 35mm presentation of Serenity (2005)—and discuss the mythic conflicts they address.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, short films deserve anything but short shrift. These easily digestible mini-movies are often 'calling cards' for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest—and modestly budgeted—form. For example, stunt man Nash Edgerton's short, 'Spider,' left many viewers speechless.
The beauty of a short film—be it a dramatic slice of life, or a simple joke, eloquently and visually told—is that it can be a brief, intense view into a larger world. A good short film hooks viewers, carries them through the story, and delivers a satisfying payoff. The best shorts prompt viewers to reassess their conceptions of cinema. Short films may not require the investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotion—from laughter to sadness to discomfort—can be effectively evoked nevertheless.
This seminar will showcase about a dozen contemporary short films that highlight the strengths of the format. Examining films like 'Toutes des connes,' 'Fresh Guacamole,' 'Lemonade Stand,' and 'Brussels,' we'll look at how shorts use editing, casting, and narrative strategies, and leave students with a greater appreciation for this underestimated format.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, short films deserve anything but short shrift. These easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest form. Martin McDonagh (Three Billboards . . .) and Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) are among those who won Oscars for their early shorts.
Short films may not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions can be effectively evoked nevertheless. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a handful of recent short films like “Engaged” (2019), “Night Swim” (2019), “Vitae” (2019) and “Whiteout” (2019) that will leave students with a greater appreciation of this underestimated format.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, these easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest—and modestly budgeted—form. Andrea Arnold (American Honey), Martin McDonagh (The Banshees of Inisherin), and Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) all have won Oscars for their early short films.
Short films do not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions—from joy to sadness to discomfort—can be effectively evoked nevertheless. Indeed, short films can be more satisfying than feature films, as they offer a dramatic slice of life, or a simple joke, eloquently told; they are brief, intense snippets of a larger world. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a collection of recent short films, including "Sparring Partner" (2022), "Triggered" (2022), and "The Chase" (2019) that provide students with a greater appreciation for the format and prove that short films deserve anything but short shrift.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, these easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest—and modestly budgeted—form. Andrea Arnold (American Honey), Martin McDonagh (The Banshees of Inisherin), and Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) all have won Oscars for their early short films.
Short films do not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions—from humor to sadness to discomfort—can be effectively evoked nevertheless. Indeed, short films can be more satisfying than feature films, as they offer a dramatic slice of life, or a simple joke, eloquently told; they are brief, intense snippets of a larger world. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a collection of short films including “Somewhere In Between” (2023), “Proof of Concept” (2023), and “Cry Me a River” (2022), among others, that highlight the strengths of the format. This seminar will provide students with a greater appreciation for short films that deserve anything but short shrift.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, these easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest—and modestly budgeted—form. Andrea Arnold (American Honey), Martin McDonagh (The Banshees of Inisherin), and Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) all have won Oscars for their early short films.
Short films do not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions—from amusement to sadness to discomfort—can be effectively evoked, nevertheless. Indeed, short films can be more satisfying than feature films as they offer a dramatic slice of life or a simple joke, eloquently told. They are brief, intense snippets of a larger world. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a collection of short films including “The Thread” (2023) and “The Year of the Radio” (2022), among others, that highlight the strengths of the format. This seminar will provide students with a greater appreciation for short films that deserve anything but short shrift.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, short films deserve anything but short shrift. These easily digestible mini-movies are often "calling cards" for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest—and modestly budgeted—form. Successful and acclaimed filmmakers ranging from Wes Anderson (1994's "Bottle Rocket", 2014's Grand Budapest Hotel) to Benh Zeitlin (2008's "Glory at Sea", 2014's Beasts of the Southern Wild), as well as countless others, launched their careers in just this way.
Short films may not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions—from laughter to sadness to discomfort—can be effectively evoked nevertheless. Indeed, short films can be more satisfying than feature films, as they offer a dramatic slice of life, or a simple joke, eloquently told; they are brief, intense snippets of a larger world. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a handful of contemporary short films that highlight the strengths of the format. Exploring shorts like "You Deserve Everything" (2016), "Balcony" (2015), and "Family Dancing" (2014), among others, will leave students with a greater appreciation of this underestimated format.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, these easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest—and modestly budgeted—form. Andrea Arnold (American Honey), Martin McDonagh (The Banshees of Inisherin), and Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) all have won Oscars for their early short films.
Short films do not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions—from amusement to sadness to discomfort—can be effectively evoked, nevertheless. Indeed, short films can be more satisfying than feature films as they offer a dramatic slice of life or a simple joke, eloquently told. They are brief, intense snippets of a larger world. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a collection of short films including “Alarms” (2024) and “A Rose for Katrina” (2024), among others, that highlight the strengths of the format. This seminar will provide students with a greater appreciation for short films that deserve anything but short shrift.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, short films deserve anything but short shrift. These easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest—and modestly budgeted—form. Andrea Arnold (American Honey), Martin McDonagh (In Bruges), and Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) are among those who won Oscars for the shorts they made early in their careers.
Short films may not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions—from joy to sadness to discomfort—can be effectively evoked nevertheless. Indeed, short films can be more satisfying than feature films; they are brief, intense snippets of a larger world, offering a dramatic slice of life or a simple joke, eloquently told. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a handful of contemporary international short films that highlight the strengths of the format. Exploring shorts like “Bamboleho” (2001), “Election Night” (1998), and “You, Me and Him” (2007), among others, will leave students with a greater appreciation of this underestimated format.
Bryn Mawr Film Institute has upgraded its website, and you will now need to log into an account on BrynMawrFilm.org to register for classes, buy tickets, and renew your membership online. Don’t worry! The process is quick and easy, and you’ll only need to do it once. Click here to complete your online account. If you’re having difficulty creating an account or logging in, call our dedicated helpline at (610) 295-1356 between 10:00 am and 9:00 pm.
Although they are primarily screened at film festivals or streamed via YouTube, Vimeo, etc., short films deserve anything but short shrift. These easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest—and modestly budgeted—form. Andrea Arnold (American Honey), Martin McDonagh (In Bruges), and Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) are among those who won Oscars for the shorts they made early in their careers.
Short films may not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions—from joy to sadness to discomfort—can be effectively evoked nevertheless. Indeed, short films can be more satisfying than feature films; they are brief, intense snippets of a larger world, offering a dramatic slice of life or a simple joke, eloquently told. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase three “long” short films that highlight the strengths of the form. Exploring shorts like “High Falls” (2007), “Pretty Boy” (2015), and “Brillo Box (3¢ off)” (2016) will leave students with a greater appreciation of this underestimated format.
Although they are primarily screened at film festivals or streamed at home (via YouTube, Vimeo, etc.) short films deserve anything but short shrift. These easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest—and modestly budgeted—form. Andrea Arnold (American Honey), Terry George (Hotel Rwanda), and Martin McDonagh (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri) are among those who won Oscars for the shorts they made early in their careers.
Short films may not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions—from joy to sadness to discomfort—can be effectively evoked nevertheless. Indeed, short films can be more satisfying than feature films; they are brief, intense snippets of a larger world, offering a dramatic slice of life, artfully depicted. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a selection of documentary short films that play with perspective and identity, and highlight the strengths of the form. Exploring shorts like “Man Under” (2015), “One for the Road” (2016), “Mr. Yellow Sweatshirt” (2017), and “Scaffold” (2017) will leave students with a greater appreciation of this underestimated format.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, short films deserve anything but short shrift. These easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest—and modestly budgeted—form. Andrea Arnold (American Honey), Martin McDonagh (Three Billboards . . .), and Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) are among those who won Oscars for the shorts they made early in their careers.
Short films may not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions—from joy to sadness to discomfort—can be effectively evoked nevertheless. Indeed, short films can be more satisfying than feature films; they are brief, intense snippets of a larger world, offering a dramatic slice of life or a simple joke, eloquently told. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a handful of recent, dramatic short films that highlight the strengths of the format. Exploring shorts like “Canoe Poems” (2017), “Fry Day” (2017), “Great Light” (2018), and “Little Potato” (2017) will leave students with a greater appreciation of this underestimated format.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, short films deserve anything but short shrift. These easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest form. Martin McDonagh (Three Billboards . . .) and Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) are among those who won Oscars for their early shorts.
Short films may not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions can be effectively evoked nevertheless. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a handful of recent, dramatic short films like “Babs” (2018), “Fauve” (2018), and “Welcome Home” (2017) that will leave students with a greater appreciation of this underestimated format.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, short films deserve anything but short shrift. These easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest form. Martin McDonagh (Three Billboards . . .) and Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) are among those who won Oscars for their early shorts.
Short films may not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions can be effectively evoked nevertheless. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a handful of recent short films like “Encarnacion” (2017), “Guns Found Here” (2018), and “Lockdown” (2019) that will leave students with a greater appreciation of this underestimated format.
Although they are rarely screened outside of film festivals, short films deserve anything but short shrift. These easily digestible mini-movies are often “calling cards” for burgeoning directors who want to showcase their talents in a modest form. Martin McDonagh (Three Billboards . . .) and Terry George (Hotel Rwanda) are among those who won Oscars for their early shorts.
Short films may not require the same investment in character development that features do, but viewers' emotions can be effectively evoked nevertheless. A good short film works with quiet efficiency to hook viewers, carry them through the story, and deliver a satisfying payoff; the best shorts prompt us to reassess our conceptions of cinema.
This seminar will showcase a handful of recent short films like “All Inclusive” (2018), “May” (2019), “The Neighbors’ Window” (2019), and “That’s My Jazz” (2019) that will leave students with a greater appreciation of this underestimated format.
Have you ever strolled down 42nd Street, just enjoying the sound of music, wishing you were an American in Paris who was singing in the rain? If so, this class is for you. While the musical film has fallen out of favor in recent decades, for a time, especially the 1940s, '50s, and early '60s-it was a jewel in Hollywood's crown.
We examine the different musical modes-backstage, integrated-and consider how these productions, often thought of as pure escapism, reflect the cultural moments in which they were made. Key practitioners of the genre, both well-known (Gene Kelly) and more obscure (Arthur Freed), are discussed.
As part of our musical journey, we will discuss 42nd Street (1933), Singin' in the Rain (1952), and My Fair Lady (1964). Taking this class doesn't mean you will spontaneously burst into song, but it does guarantee you will have a new appreciation for those who do so on screen.
Have you ever strolled down 42nd Street, just enjoying the Sound of Music, wishing you were an American in Paris who was Singin' in the Rain? If so, this class is for you. While the musical film has fallen out of favor in recent decades, for a time—especially the 1940s, '50s, and early '60s—it was a jewel in Hollywood's crown.
We examine the different musical modes—backstage, integrated—and consider how these productions, often thought of as pure escapism, reflect the cultural moments in which they were made. Key practitioners of the genre, both well-known (Gene Kelly) and more obscure (Arthur Freed), are discussed.
Taking this class doesn't mean you will spontaneously burst into song, but it does guarantee you will have a new appreciation for those who do so on screen.
In the early 1930s, one out of every three American films was a musical, and its popularity has endured throughout the decades into the 21st century, in which the genre is vibrant once more not only in film—both live action and animated—but also on television and commercials. Such longevity speaks to the expressive power of the musical as a distinct, significant form of American performance.
Toward that end, we will explore the origins, development, and internationalization of the musical, focusing on the interrelationship between Broadway and Hollywood, the influence of the rise and fall of the Production Code, the role of sound and Technicolor, the shaping hand of different studios, and the tensions between narrative and spectacle, sincerity and camp.
Questions to be discussed throughout the class include the following: Why has the musical's popularity risen and ebbed in the 20th century? Why are audiences more inclined toward musicals at some historical moments rather than others? How and why is the musical a format often used for investigating sensitive issues involving race, class, and gender?
Some of the brilliant performers we will watch and savor include Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Gene Kelly, and Judy Garland, while also examining the notable contributions of directors such as Vincente Minnelli, Stanley Donen, and Bob Fosse. So bring a song in your heart and your favorite dancing shoes as we experience the magic of the American Musical through films as rich and diverse as these: The Jazz Singer, 42nd Street, Top Hat, The Wizard of Oz, Meet Me in St. Louis, Singin' in the Rain, An American in Paris, South Pacific, Gigi, West Side Story, My Fair Lady, Cabaret (shown on the big screen), Hair, Saturday Night Fever, All That Jazz, New York, New York, Footloose, Chicago, and Beauty and the Beast.
Due to our mandatory theater closure through Thursday, March 26, the remaining sessions of this class on Tuesday, March 17, and Tuesday, March 24, will be canceled. However, we will be screening and offering seminars on the films that were to be shown during these final sessions, The Big Heat and Touch of Evil, on June 25 and July 9, respectively. You will be able to register for these seminars when our summer line-up is officially announced this spring.
This course introduces students to film noir, a phrase credited to French critic Nino Frank who used it to describe a cycle of Hollywood pictures that emerged from the gangster and crime genres in the 1940s. A tricky category, noirs can be detective films, thrillers—even post-modern anti-narratives—and they are often less concerned with “whodunnit” than with how or why the deed was done.
As much a style as a genre, noir is fascinated with doom, male anxiety, and transgression, and it traditionally uses the spellbinding femme fatale to embody these emerging threats. Although these films are typified by stark lighting, bleak urban settings, and corrupt, broken characters, their influence can be seen in movies as diverse as the (partially) animated Who Framed Roger Rabbit, the Coen Brothers’ pitch-black comedy Barton Fink, and the mind-bending Memento.
We will descend through the dark side of Hollywood via an exploration of some classics of the genre. In true noir fashion, our journey will be bookended by the films widely thought of as the beginning and end of the cycle’s initial run in Hollywood, writer-director John Huston’s film of Dashiell Hammett's The Maltese Falcon (1941), and Orson Welles’s French New Wave-infused Touch of Evil (1958), respectively. In between, we’ll see Lana Turner and John Garfield scheme and smolder in Hollywood’s first stab at James M. Cain’s The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946), and learn what happens when film noir—in the forms of good-time girl Gloria Grahame and a deranged Lee Marvin—winds its way to the suburban home of ferocious family man Glenn Ford in The Big Heat (1953).
As novelist Dennis Lehane (Mystic River) so eloquently put it, “In Greek tragedy, they fall from great heights. In noir, they fall from the curb.” Join us for the ride.
This course introduces students to film noir, a phrase credited to critic Nino Frank who used it to describe a cycle of pictures that emerged from the gangster and crime genres in the 1940s. A tricky category, noirs can be detective films, thrillers�even post-modern anti-narratives�and are often more concerned with �How� or �Why� rather than �Who� �done it.�
More style than genre, noir is fascinated with doom, male anxiety, and transgression, and it uses the spellbinding femme fatale to embody these emerging threats. Although these films are typified by stark lighting, bleak urban settings, and corrupt, broken characters, their influence has impacted films as diverse as the (partially) animated Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988), the Coen brothers� pitch-black comedy Barton Fink (1991), and the mind-bending Memento (2000).
Join us on a descent through the dark side of Hollywood via an exploration of such classic films noir as The Maltese Falcon (1941), Double Indemnity (1944), and The Big Heat (1953). As novelist Dennis Lehane so eloquently puts it: �In Greek tragedy, they fall from great heights. In noir, they fall from the curb.�
Even before its invention, the cinema was ingrained with a "documentary impulse"—the tendency and desire to capture and communicate facets of real life, both familiar and foreign. As the medium matured and coalesced into an industry, such films tended to be eclipsed by fictional, narrative stories. The cinematic documentary was marginalized and pushed before the feature (newsreels), out of the theater altogether (educational, instructional, and propaganda films), or, finally, off the movie screen entirely, landing on television.
In recent years, however, there has been a resurgence of the documentary form in mainstream cinema, with major Hollywood players now eager to be involved in the traditionally affordable and potentially lucrative genre. This course examines the history of documentary film, considering different approaches to non-narrative cinema, and discussing some recent entries in the genre and the questions they raise about the form.
Even before its invention, the cinema was saddled with a "documentary impulse"—the desire, tendency, and ability to capture, depict, and communicate facets of life, both familiar and foreign.
As the medium matured and coalesced into an industry, this inclination tended to be subverted in favor of fictional, narrative films. The cinematic documentary was marginalized and pushed before the feature (newsreels), out of the theater altogether (educational, instructional, and propaganda films), or finally off the movie screen entirely, landing on television.
In recent years, however, there has been something of a resurgence of the documentary form in mainstream cinema, with major Hollywood players now eager to be involved in producing the traditionally affordable and potentially lucrative genre.
This course examines the history of documentary film, considers different approaches to non-narrative cinema, and discusses some recent entries in the genre and the questions they raise about the form.
“Murder can be an art! A murderer can be an artist.”
— Agatha Christie, Cards on the Table, 1936
Thomas De Quincey, with typical sardonic wit, expressed similar sentiments in his 1827 essay, “On Murder”, observing that, although the murderous art must inevitably be understood as immoral, its artistry nevertheless may still be appreciated by the discerning connoisseur, encouraging the reader to take his hand and wander through such a gallery of gruesomeness in delighted admiration. Concomitant to such endeavors, this course dedicates itself to the analysis of some of the masters of cinematic criminality, focusing on those whose brushwork effortlessly combines the macabre with the comedic. They are proponents of a school identified by André Breton in 1939 as black comedy—artists whose depiction of crimes ultimately serves to produce a satiric indictment of the so-called civilized society that, at times, condemns them.
In exploring the literary and cinematic traditions of black comedy, we will focus on the murderous aesthetics found in Frank Capra’s Arsenic and Old Lace (1944), Charlie Chaplin’s Monsieur Verdoux (1947), Robert Hamer’s Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), and Jean Renoir’s The Rules of the Game (1939). As exemplars of the genre they are unmatched—peerless in their derision of sentimentality’s artifice, allowing the enthusiast to delight in their twisted criticism of a society trembling in the run-up to, or aftermath of, the 20th century’s second global conflict. These films depict savage cultural landscapes, war profiteers, and cowardly upper classes, but do so in a way that will leave you with a smile on your face . . . and a furrow on your brow.
Often dismissed as expensive, explosive, multiplex fodder for the 12-to-25-year-old set, blockbusters are in fact an important sector of the film industry that warrants serious consideration. Not mere summertime entertainment, such films have exposed people around the world to their first glimpse of American popular culture, and in the process made California's economy one of the world's ten largest.
Hollywood sees the blockbuster as a necessary evil: Studio heads and the conglomerates that employ them consider such pictures to be necessary for the survival of their industry, while many filmmakers and most critics view them as evil. Audiences, in their underestimated wisdom, acknowledge elements of both perspectives, and respond accordingly by flocking to some films and avoiding others. While it is impossible to definitively explain why they do so, some light will be shed on the issue as this course explores the history, practitioners, and commercial impact of blockbusters and discusses the form and content of some emblematic films.
The western, like jazz, is an original American art form the influence of which has spread far and wide to nations (and filmmakers) such as Japan (Akira Kurosawa), Italy (Sergio Leone), Australia (George Miller), and Taiwan (Ang Lee). The genre’s cinematic tradition dates back to the beginning of the last century, in the form of Edwin S. Porter’s innovative 1903 short, “The Great Train Robbery.”
In this course, we examine the definitive characteristics of the genre—its iconography, key practitioners, and recurrent themes—to better understand how these tales of people weathering the beautiful, but often brutal, frontier are myths that attempt to address the concerns and allay the fears of a society that appears to have abandoned the values such films represent.
Its stories are the conflicts of America: civilization vs. wilderness, order vs. chaos, white vs. other, and justice vs. vengeance, among others. The changing attitudes toward these issues throughout the nation's history are evident in the western's evolution since its screen inception more than a century ago. Indeed, as gender roles changed, psychology entered popular culture, and generation gaps emerged, the genre adapted, in fits and starts—with varying results.
We will discuss classic films like John Ford’s The Searchers (1956) and more recent big-screen westerns, such as Clint Eastwood’s valedictory to the genre, Unforgiven (1992), that will leave you wondering, as you ride off into the sunset, why Hollywood only very rarely, if ever, makes them like they used to.
Independently minded and sexually provocative, the women of film noir often misdirect the investigation, confound the narration, and upend the stagnation of America’s moral code. They complicate our understanding of sex and power, expressing their desires in ways often unavailable to “real” women. What do these figures reveal about politics, art, gender, and Hollywood stardom from the 1940s to the turn of the 21st century?
This course examines four key noir films, considering how women’s representation defies contemporary ideas about “progress.” With a portrait at its center, Laura (1944) positions art as a cipher through which we construct an idea of “woman”—only to then break it open. With a flashback structure led by Joan Crawford’s voiceover, Mildred Pierce (1945) sweeps us into the world of its protagonist, a divorcee with far more business acumen than romantic awareness or maternal temperance, letting us imagine an America run by formidable women. Klute (1971) brings us to the neo-noir era, a period dominated by thrillers in which fears of technological surveillance intersect with anxieties over representing women’s bodies. With her continued prominence, Jane Fonda is the ideal star through which to analyze this shift. Finally, with Bound (1996), the first feature directed by the Wachowskis, the noir cycle’s latent lesbian desire is brought to the fore, if not into the “light.”
