The essence of film as an art form resides in its potential to evoke mainstream spectacle. On the face of it, this statement may appear rather controversial. After all, art and commerce are, by definition, irreconcilable concepts. Upon closer inspection, however, the association proves to be accurate. As an artistic medium, film is reliant upon technological progress and collaborative effort. Filmic ideas necessitate literalization; the imaginary must be realized, solidified. The production of a film, be it a feature-length project or a short one-reel experiment, thus invariably requires substantial financial resources. Even small-scale practical effects and primitive computer calculations demand sizeable monetary investments. In this regard, film differs significantly from other artistic ventures such as literature or painting. Film can only be viable if it acknowledges the market. The relic production modes of the early twentieth century, particularly the pioneering industrial self-sufficiency of the Lumière brothers, are not representative and hardly realistic, in spite of such notable contemporary analogies as the auto-production of the French New Wave, the Mumblecore strategy or Shane Carruth’s exceptional independent film Primer (2004). Hence, upon its inception as an innovative realist recording device and following the downturn of the first wave of enthusiasm for the new physical spectacle (living images), filmmakers proceeded to exploit the inherent expressionistic potential of the medium. The indubitably elaborate grandiosity of French auteur Georges Meliès’ exuberant court-mêtrages laid the foundation for ostentatious cinematic virtuosity and inspired innumerable reproductions. But the lack of appropriate fixed venues relegated film to a nomadic existence and it formed a symbiosis with the accessible populist illusionism of vaudeville. As a result, film gained a dominant reputation in popular culture yet its affiliation with the disreputable image of low-brow fare diminished its status as a coequal art form. The petition to the pantheon of high culture was denied.
Today, cinema is generally regarded as a form of art. The countless obdurate efforts of indefatigable critics, theoreticians and artists have borne fruit. The medium boasts an impressive popular and scientific discourse, both analogue and digital, which takes account of technical, aesthetic, socio-cultural and economical factors. Of course, art, even if predicated on established conventions (i.e. classical Hollywood), involves subjectivity and the overall quality of specific films is debatable. A film is not by default a work of art. But, in the popular consciousness, the medium nowadays primarily registers as a vehicle for creative and artistic expression – with an explicit impetus to entertain and an implicit impulse to edify – and not as a money-making franchise that saps energy and breeds passive consumerism (media watchdogs may disagree!). Nevertheless, in certain circles, film is still underappreciated, even criminally dismissed as inconsequential and trivial. Such a mentality seems grossly obsolete and regressive in an era essentially defined by the configuration of the moving image. To equate the ubiquity of filmic iterations in modern media with an ineligibility for artistic merit or, to put it in a nutshell, split hairs, is neither fair nor reasonable. Yet, alas, the current status of film in German high school policies provides an unfortunate exemplification of this deplorable condition. Aside from individual exceptions, film constitutes marginal teaching material, in curricular and practical contexts. While literature continues to occupy its place as the primary source for critical, cultural and political education, particularly in foreign language teaching, film ekes out a miserable existence on the periphery of mainstream learning. Even worse, the usage of film in German classrooms frequently harkens back to its nascent stage, an emphasis on recreational pleasure, instead of intellectual engagement. Films are continually instrumentalized as rewards or distractions, merely to fill a gap. They are haphazardly fragmented, split up, mutilated. Occasionally, they serve as well-intentioned, yet misguided illustrations for specific topics. After a thorough dissection of the American War of Independence, a devoted English teacher, ignorant of film, may be inspired to screen Roland Emmerich’s The Patriot (2000). After all, it confronts the subject directly, an honorable approach certainly, even if it simultaneously indulges in an emphasis on hackneyed romantic clichés and a glamorization of jingoism. Or, alternatively, in an effort to spark students’ interest in the Vietnam War, teachers may opt for Ben Stiller’s parodic farce Tropic Thunder (2008), for blatantly populist motives, ignoring (or blanking on) far better interpretations (i.e. Stanley Kubrick’s Full Metal Jacket (1987), Oliver Stone’s Platoon (1986), Michael Cimino’s The Deer Hunter (1978) or Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now (1979)). Such, admittedly oversimplified, cases of course do not bode well for the inclusion of film in the official curriculum.
Even positive paradigms are indicative of the underlying predicament. Gurinder Chadha’s Bend it like Beckham (2002), a mainstay in the didactic film discourse, is generally cited as a film conducive to the promotion of intercultural learning. It situates the issues of assimilation and ethnic heritage in a context of inner-familial complications, contrasting the modern mentality of a Pakistani teenager with the orthodox traditionalism of her parents. The film’s exploration of cultural diversity is layered and the interactions seem genuine and unaffected, in spite of a tangible presence of sentimentalism (which is probably attributable to the demands of the romantic-comedy genre rather than an implicit ideological agenda). In addition to the cultural context, the film’s aesthetic form serves as an illustration of classical continuity, the lingua franca of film. All in all, it is certainly a qualified example. Yet, its prevalence in the work of scholars and teachers equally narrows the scope of a potential malleable film canon. There are other, far more complex and accomplished films that address similar themes from different perspectives, for instance, Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu’s expansive cultural parable Babel (2006), Sacha Baron Cohen’s farcical mockumentary Borat (2006) (de facto directed by Larry Charles), Spike Lee’s ambivalent morality play Do The Right Thing (1989), Neill Blomkamp’s political sci-fi allegory District 9 (2009), Clint Eastwood’s self-referential manifesto Gran Torino (2008) and Mira Nair’s poignant family history The Namesake (2006). It is important to raise awareness of these films and many scholars, predominantly Carola Surkamp, Christiane Lütge, Engelbert Thaler and Bruno Zerweck, tirelessly broaden the scope of the medium. Change lies ahead and needs to be supported.
Notwithstanding the rather inadequate review of film’s current status in education, it is imperative to note that the medium is not in toto absent from the German educational landscape. It has found its way into the curriculum, though in a very narrow framework, limited to a few classics and theme-specific exemplifications, i.e. Bend it like Beckham. But it does not rank as highly as literature. And while literature is defined as a broad, multi-faceted medium, with various manifestations, i.e. poetry, short stories, political treatises, satire and parody, film remains confined to the full-length feature. Television and online videos are discounted. Essentially, the entirety of materialistic youth culture, the images roaming the screens of I-Pods, I-Phones, PCs and Macs, are, to adopt a hyperbolic phrase, nonexistent in the national school environment, a sphere which, supposedly, is open to – and thrives on – extrinsic influences. Irony reigns supreme.
The reasons for the marginalization of film in the German high school system have not yet been empirically assessed and thus remain a topic of speculation. A myopic analysis would link the prevalent dismissive attitude to a tangible sense of bibliophile elitism. But it is far too simplistic to associate non-use with general distaste. The desire to account for the current dismal status of film should not inspire a spurious and ill-founded crusade against educators. Research findings, with regard to English foreign language teaching, suggest that the causes are rather elemental, curricular, political and methodological cracks in the foundation. Simply put the majority of teachers, through no fault of their own, lack substantial competences in film theory and history. And large-scale political initiatives aiming to rectify this dilemma are not yet in motion.
The English curriculum for high school education only features, i.e. name-checks, a few films; a comprehensive canon does not exist. The issue of an authoritative, solid canon is however superfluous. Obviously, classics are seminal landmarks of art which should ideally be thematized. But considering the time constraints and enormous workloads teachers (and students) have to grapple with, a more malleable and flexible approach towards film seems more advisable – and sustainable, for that matter. An ever-evolving, theme-specific canon is thus the sensible option (here, academia can supply detailed and reliable information; researchers should evaluate new releases regularly, update the canon and devise apposite teaching models; naturally, didactic experts need to be well-versed in the art of film as well). Yet, as I have already emphasized, film is not or ineffectively utilized by teachers, in spite of the curricular recommendation, however faint and insubstantial it actually is.
A far more likely reason could encompass logistical difficulties. A brief digression may serve as an illustrative lead-in. Even though technical innovations continually threaten to subvert the integrity of the book, its physical construct remains indelibly timeless. As such, it offers several advantages compared to film. It is easily accessible, allows for a prompt page-by-page analysis and is universally portable. A few years ago, film could not have competed with this availability. Nowadays, however, new digital devices have vested film with an unforeseen level of accessibility. Consumers can watch films on trains, in airplanes, on the subway, on their laptop, on video screens, on cell phones. Nonetheless, the practicality of such devices in a learning environment has yet to be proven, not to mention the financial burden it would incur. Hence, films ostensibly have to be shown in the classroom, which is largely regarded as a nuisance. Teachers often have to reserve media rooms, arrange for DVD players and instill new viewing sensibilities into their students in order to, to put it bleakly, counterpoise the deplorable habitus of modern consumerism – the mere presence of a television set may likely encourage long-lasting power-naps or other out-of-order shenanigans. The film screening itself may thus pose significant problems. But they do not warrant a corollary which explains the hesitance or even refusal to teach film regularly. Logistics can be systematized, students can be instructed to partake in the process, film screenings can take place at home. Compartmentalization is the key. If teachers commence to treat the DVD as a new book form, manageable and productive teaching strategies arise. The teaching of film must not be restricted to the classroom. It must instead form part of the entire learning process.
Whereas logistical complications can be ruled out, methodological inconsistencies prove far more serious. Films are not featured in textbooks. And even though an enormous reservoir of theoretical models circulates in the didactic discourse on foreign language education – particularly English but German and French is equally represented – these textual templates seem unable to gain ground and break into the mainstream market. Teachers are uncertain of how to utilize film as a teaching tool. Should they screen the entire film or just a few excerpts? Which films should they select? What about time-management? And which films suitable for children and teenagers? Are they at all educational? Do they not hinder learning? Ironically, the answers lie in the ostensibly withdrawn ivory-tower of academia. Didactic elaborations on these issues abound and a firm framework is in place. Per consensus, films in fact constitute magnificent vehicles for teaching, particularly in the context of foreign languages. A few pros: popularity, topicality, cultural value, thematic breadth, audiovisual literacy. As for didactic models, films facilitate methodological versatility. They may serve as complimentary material to literature or function as an autonomous subject; they may be shown in their entirety or as scene-by-scene or scene-specific blocks. Alas, the virtual nonexistence of films in high school policies precludes a thriving dissemination of these cogent arguments.
The root of the problem, however, is far more fundamental than the previously outlined points would suggest. Even if teachers were equipped to utilize film as teaching material, overcome logistical hurdles and draw on a publicized evolving canon of classic and contemporary film, they would be unable to do the medium justice as they lack its basic knowledge. Ironically, the consistent exposure to moving images does not correlate with an increased awareness of filmic techniques. In fact, cinematic art is still a rather obscure notion. The subtext of a film is readily available to attentive viewers, the message, the themes, a simple decoding exercise for literature experts, in fact. But the actual text(ure), the images on the screen, their construction, and their contribution to the subtext, remains elusive. Interestingly, though, an elementary understanding of filmic conventions, particularly storytelling mechanics and aesthetic parameters, is nonetheless an implicit competency many regular viewers have at their disposal, only obfuscated by a filter of passivity and habit. In this regard, the acquisition of cine-literacy, the active ability to decipher cinematic language, does not seem an insurmountable obstacle. It is merely a matter of activating dormant skills.
Yet, due to the aforementioned inauspicious circumstances, (prospective) teachers rely upon themselves to acquire these skills. My own research indicates that only a few English didactic departments at German universities offer film-specific seminars. And none of them focus on the basic principles of film theory and history (which is merely a ascertainment, not a criticism!). Sadly, film, in general, rarely features in the curricula of foreign language departments. It is rather a specialization than an autonomous discipline. Moreover, film education is not a prerequisite for prospective teachers. State regulations for foreign language education specifically emphasize training in linguistics, literature, culture and history. Film may or may not be implicitly subsumed under the plurilateral text pool literature. Veteran teachers who display an interest in branching out in order to gain insights into new topics face exactly the same conundrum. Professional development seminars may stress film in the context of cultural studies or historical themes. Simple introductions into the subject matter are anomalies. Hence, education majors and teachers alike are either never or inconsistently exposed to fundamental lectures on film. The absence of educational transparency and political perspicacity stifles any potential interest in film. The current educational sphere is not conducive to film education. The only viable solution is the concept of learner autonomy.
Of course, self-reliance in education is a rather apocryphal proposition. It is quite clear that everyone is responsible for their own learning progress. Individual input makes the difference, per popular humanistic dictum. But it is unequivocally clear as well that outer circumstances fundamentally inform individual learning. Regardless, the current climate of interactivity allows for exceptional learning opportunities, completely disassociated from institutionalized education. The internet constitutes a vast reservoir for those interested in establishing a basic knowledge about film. The essential requirement is a map that aids them in navigating their quest. It should be noted, though, that independent study cannot fully compensate for a lack of professional instruction. Such a practice would be comparable to the attempt to use a band-aid to treat a gunshot wound. The following concept, geared towards English foreign language teaching, should thus not be misconstrued as an absolutist alternative. Rather, it is both an interim solution and, hopefully in the future, a supplemental educational element in the teaching of film.
The digital era proffers the opportunity to gain substantial insights into film art. More specifically, popular culture harbors the potential to enlighten the uninitiated. Normally, in the best-case scenario, prospective teachers would attend introductory film seminars, expand their basic skills in graduate courses and apply their knowledge in high school, filling students in on the language and history of film. In reality, university students and professional teachers are on their own. It is difficult, at times impossible, to find one’s bearings on the information highway, specifically in regards to a topic as esoteric as film art. Thus, it is imperative to clarify the learning goals. What should teachers learn about film? “Everything”, seems the ideal response but pragmatism (and common sense) advises us to concentrate on specific features. Textbooks on film art generally elaborate upon technical properties – mise-en-scene, cinematography and editing - and emphasize their artistic potential. Further differentiations may include chapters on genre configurations, narrative techniques, music and sound. A reliable, even magisterial, online resource which offers this type of detail and fastidiousness is the Film Analysis Guide administered by the film studies department of Yale University. The site features a clear focus on vocabulary, technical terms, artistic merit and analytical approaches. Its authoritative scope is comparable to a textbook. It may even be suitable for advanced German high school students with a high command of English.
Online resources are seldom as precise, organized and structured, however. Usually, they highlight certain characteristics or phenomena of cinema. Blogs, in particular, hosted by pedigreed film critics, well-read academics and enthusiastic cinephiles, shed light on the particulars of film, its form and the industry that produces it. The unquestioned guru of the online community (and academic sphere, for that matter) is film scholar and historian David Bordwell who, along with Kristin Thompson, manages the magisterial blog Observations On Film Art. The duo’s textbook Film Art: An Introduction is indubitably the best introduction to film aesthetics. And many of the ideas put forth in the book exist on the blog, albeit in different form. The authors explore narrative strategies of classical Hollywood cinema, dissect aesthetic hallmarks of particular directors and auteurs, explain contemporary cinematic fads, and report from film festivals (this meager enumeration of topics does not remotely do justice to the thematic overabundance of the site!). The writing is clear and pointed, easily accessible for both veterans and neophytes. It is clear that the blog’s implicit agenda is to educate. A similarly competent blog is Scanners, the proprietor of which is long-time film critic Jim Emerson. Devoted to formal analysis and auteurism, his entries are insightful illustrations of film technique. The comments alone constitute a remarkable discourse on film.
Needless to say, there are many more exceptional blogs that may serve as gateways into film culture. But the above exemplars, rest assured, are especially useful for our purpose as they may be perused like a book. Their link menus read like table of contents descriptions. They can be readily consulted and studied. And, this point should be underscored with regard to the internet where reliability and accuracy are tenuous concepts at best, they are legitimate.
Two other blogs that should be commended belong to critics. They do not necessarily focus on film aesthetics and rather approach film from a more hermeneutical perspective. Thereby, they demonstrate a template of how to discuss film. Jonathan Rosenbaum’s eponymous blog caters to art-house aficionados and may broaden the mainstream horizon of regular moviegoers. The populist counterpart is Roger Ebert’s review site with succinct commentaries on contemporary releases, far more accessible in terms of content and language. The Great Movies rubric is notable for its historical value.
In addition to blogs, the internet offers innumerable audio products – podcasts – that are conducive to a comprehensive and multifarious film education. Again, a short selection will have to suffice. Battleship Pretension, a tongue-in-cheek pun on Sergei Eisenstein’s 1925 silent film classic Battleship Potemkin, chronicles the discussions of Tyler Smith and David Bax, two cinephiles who regularly dive into specific topics on film. Past episodes focused on film noir, the music of Bernard Herrmann and religion in film. Compared to this informed stream-of-consciousness effort, the Filmspotting review podcast appears tight and formulaic. But the conversations of Adam Kempenaar and Matty Robinson are equally incisive. The Top 5 segment situates well-known films in interesting contexts. All of the hosts have degrees in film or related subjects. Short segments of the podcasts can be integrated in film-specific lessons. In lieu of a literature quote, students could reflect on short audio comments.
These particular podcasts do not employ explicit language. The interactions are engaging and well-informed. Not only do they communicate substantial information on the formal construction of films and the topography of the Hollywood industry, they equally convey a diverse vocabulary for film analysis (not to mention, a high degree of comprehensible idiomatic speech!). They are suitable for advanced English foreign language learners as well.
Finally, after a brief foray into the realms of blogs and podcasts, I will conclude with a concise delineation of the video essay, an innovative form of audiovisual criticism. Video essays use either a verbal or a textual commentary to analyze specific elements of a film or a series of films. This approach holds the advantage of synthesizing the illusiveness of argument with the materiality of evidence. Essentially, critics utilize quotes from a film in order to support their logic. The benefit of this tactic is predominantly educational. One of the leading figures of this cultural movement is Salon’s television critic and freelance film critic Matt Zoller-Seitz. His video essays have been published at the Museum of the Moving Image and the L Magazine. Much of his work is auteurist in nature investigating the oeuvre of established directors such as Oliver Stone, Michael Mann, Wes Anderson or Terrence Malick offering astute insights into their use of the cinematic apparatus. Other essays included such versatile topics as an analysis of the zombie film, the television series 24 (2001-2010) and the concept of time in David Fincher’s The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008).
The overarching element that unites all of these resources is an, for the internet, unexpected degree of homogeneity. The free-form, evolving template of these ventures notwithstanding, a thematic through-line is clearly discernible. As more and more information is accumulated, readers, listeners and viewers will acquire increasingly profound skills.
Outside of the online sphere, the Hollywood industry itself functions as the largest purveyor of film-specific information. Due to the proliferation of DVDs and Blue-Ray discs, along with the commercialization of a hitherto niche market of specialized releases, the availability of extensive supplemental materials has become a fixture of standard merchandise. Making-Of documentaries offer behind-the-scenes looks that may unearth the real-life banality exquisite fictional extravaganzas are founded on. Interviews with actors and personnel grant insights into the creative process behind a film. The truly educational material however is contained in audio commentaries. These recordings were originally conceived as an outlet for commentators, particularly scholars, to reflect upon films and share their opinions with a wider audience (the first audio commentary was recorded for the original King Kong (1933)). The increasing popularity of this concept prompted an expansion opening the forum for directors, critics, actors and crew members. The output of the Criterion Collection is especially notable in this context. The company commissions experts and pundits to provide perceptive treatises on films, situated in a context of historical or formal analysis, biographical background or artistic intention. Directors and actors join in as well.
As a quasi-university, the internet and its expansive canon of pop-culture lectures supplies those who lack the possibility to study film in a traditional learning environment with an enriching alternative. The benefits are manifold: universal accessibility, depth of information in compressed form, media versatility, a pro bono offer. The texts and recordings are well-suited for in-depth study as well as brief perusals. The varied media outlets with their multi-faceted thematic fabric allow for a balanced exposure to film and foster motivation through change and timeliness. In any case, they serve as excellent entry points into the intriguing sphere of film art.
The internet sources are certainly helpful in the acquisition of cine-literacy. Each individual source, however, is unlikely to provide an all-encompassing education. An all-in-one program, akin to a 101 seminar, is virtually absent from the online portals. Fortunately, scholars have noticed the dire situation and devised an antidote: Close-Up, edited by Carola Surkamp, professor of English teaching methodology at Göttingen University, a self-learning device specifically designed to communicate the fundamentals of film aesthetics. Combining illustrative video footage with concise text paragraphs and a variety of customized study modes, it enables students and teachers alike to manage their learning process effectively. The program divides film art into two large-scale parts, the shot and the cut, which are further differentiated into numerous digestible segments. This process of particularization facilitates a steady learning pace with a high rate of memorization. Moreover, a superimposed structure guides users conveniently through each sub-chapter. Tutorials introduce aspects of film language which are explored further in Awareness sections, entirely supported by means of specific scenes of classic and contemporary film. A Task section encourages learners to try their hands at analyses. This complete learning guide may very well be the culmination of effective learner autonomy.
The current state of film in German foreign language education is undoubtedly flawed. In a time marked by the seemingly unremitting diversification of the moving image, analogue and static teaching materials, regardless of their efficacy, are definitely anachronistic and obsolete. The proliferation of film in educational settings should however not occur at the expense of a demonization and diminution of literature. Rather, books and films must become equal, complementary tools that are granted individual recognition. Prospective teachers have a responsibility to herald and spearhead this development. Hence, at this time, they must independently obtain the competences needed to establish film as a viable teaching device. They have to attend their own film school. They have all the necessary means at their disposal.
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