Film Is Dead. Long Live Film!
Almost ten years ago, producer/director/cinematographer/editor Peter Flynn gave us an elegy for film projectionists in “The Dying of the Light.” Now he turns his attention to the obsessive collectors, sometimes on the wrong side of the law, who have had a largely unheralded but major impact on film preservation and restoration in “Film Is Dead. Long Live Film!”
Laura's Review: A-
There have been many documentaries about film restoration (see “Film: The Living Record of Our Memory” for one) as well as the singular work of Bill Morrison, who has repurposed decaying film in “Decasia” and “Dawson City: Frozen Time,” but I cannot think of one about the private collectors who often have the same tactile reverence for the medium as those projectionists. After turning his camera on broken equipment and rusted reels left out in the elements, “Lady and the Tramp” visibly labeled on one strip, Flynn visits with a wide variety of collectors, all of them entertaining, most emphasizing the importance of sharing what they have gleaned.
First up is Lou DiCrescenzo, presented here as the paterfamilias of the group. He is determined to pass along not only his collection, but his knowledge, and is thrilled at having found a protégé, Jesse Crooks, he can train in the use of vintage film projectors. One of the treasures of Lou’s collection is ‘missing’ footage from the Lindbergh trial, the only known piece of film featuring Bruno Hauptmann on the witness stand. Sadly, Lou passed earlier this year and Flynn’s honoring of him here is clearly heartfelt.
Ira Gallen takes everything, including lots of forgotten TV commercial gems. Stan Taffel’s collection includes everything from WWII footage from Iwo Jima to Dick Van Dyke’s audition reel and the only remaining look at Sammy Davis Jr. performing with his dad and uncle before he lost his eye. He reminds us that it’s not just old silent films that are being lost, a decomposing copy of the original “Star Wars” illustrating his point.
Stu Fink educates on all the different sizes of film and what their primary uses were (9.5mm?!). He also talks about nitrate, highly prized for its deep blacks and silvery sheen but highly flammable, and the safety film which replaced it but is equally prone to decomposition. John Carpenter (not the filmmaker) regales us with his tale of storing a nitrate film in the family bathroom where it exploded and took out a wall. His spritely elderly mother laughs at the recollection and agrees that his crazy hobby bonded their small family.
Chip Ordway hunts snipes (snipe hunting?), film that is neither trailer nor feature, often those concession ads shown in drive-ins. Bob Furmank specializes in 3D, differentiating between anaglyph 3d which uses red and green on one strip and the more effective split screen 3D which is more difficult to collect as one must find both sides of the film. He has the only surviving print of “Robot Monster” in 3D, discovered in a mislabeled film can.
Flynn uses the independently made “Captain Celluloid vs. the Film Pirates,” an homage to Republic serials, to dive into the rampant pirating of films by collectors. The F.B.I. went after many, including celebrities like Roddy McDowell. Now studios often seek these same people out for their help locating lost footage. Flynn then segues to Eric Grayson’s labor of love restoring the serial ‘The King of the Kongo’ featuring a young Boris Karloff and the restoration work is jaw-dropping.
All of these collectors and more decry the loss of so much film heritage, early shorts and movies considered disposable entertainment, but according to a representative from The Library of Congress it still happens today, some inheritors of these collections destroying them. Storage is, indeed, an issue for many as we see one collector moving shelves of film canisters around his kitchen while the wife of another talks about stacks of film towering over her and her husband’s bed.
Flynn’s own images are beautiful with deep, rich color, his use of close-ups intimate and artful. Film clips aren’t just shown, but presented in various ways, the film’s sprockets visible as they are held to the light, as well as heard running through the projector. “Film Is Dead. Long Live Film!” is a must for any cineaste and made me nostalgic for the early days of Reeling when one of our crew members, a collector himself, would screen film prints in his dusty old basement, friends crammed together on old kitchen chairs amidst rusty tools and cans of paint.
Robin's Review: B+
Film, the chemically-processed celluloid that once dominated every aspect of movies for 100+ years, is going by way of the Dodo bird – extinction. Except for the work, dedication and effort of those few eccentric souls who have taken on the overwhelming task of collecting and restoring the media for posterity in “Film Is Dead. Long Live Film!”
Many years ago, the anthropology world was put on its ear when a tribe of natives, unspoiled by modern man, was discovered in, I think, Borneo. That unique tribe, with their own cultural mores and living habits, reminds me of the film collectors shown to us in “Film Is Dead…,” a tribe with very different ways of life from us mere mortals.
Documentary filmmaker Peter Flynn brings us into the bowels of a unique – you pick your adjectives of description – life-style, vocation, obsession, hobby, [your choice here]. We watch these supreme packrats collect, examine, pick through and evaluate their ever-growing acquisitions of old film, from the very early days of movie making through generations to the dawn if video.Now, unlike most documentaries about movies where the names of the players tend to be about the celebrities involved, we get a litany of all of those people who have dedicated their lives – damn the effect on their families – to collecting movies. Flynn introduces us to such collector notables (in their own circles) as Lou DiCrescenzo and Stu Fink (love the name) and a bevy of others.
These dedicated characters tell us their stories, from where they find their films, to examining the deterioration of the discovered stock and the painstaking process of film restoration. We also get a tutorial on film types – 8mm, 16mm, 35mm and 70mm – projectors and projectionists, and a bunch of statistics, like 90% of all films ever produced is gone.
So, the question is raised why does this band of brothers – film collection, including home movie making of the 40s, 50s and 60s, is almost exclusively the realm of men – do what they do? To some normal people, these folk are really hoarders. It may be film, but the extent to which they “collect” often time fills rooms and storage lockers.
Another question raised in this mostly interesting document of film collection and the collectors is: why do they do it? In some cases, the answer is “I don’t know.” Most, though, realize that their days are numbered and they have to figure out what to do for their legacy.
Collection turns to restoration and what was once against the law – pirating film, for instance – is turning into something that big studios want to capitalize on. It turns out, over the decades, the studios destroyed most of their movies – to make space. Now, the outlaws are embraced by the establishment and their formerly ill-gotten gain is now in demand.
“Film Is Dead. Long Live Film!” is the vindication for all of those collectors who lived their solitary lives for one thing – collecting movies. The fruits of their efforts has turned to restoration and, more importantly, finding new blood to take over the reins of the business. The future is hopeful.
Bayview Entertainment released “Film Is Dead. Long Live Film!” in theaters beginning in late April 2024. Click here for more information as well as theaters and play dates.
