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In The Future

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The Future of Cinema as envisioned by Martin Scorsese

This open letter to his daughter was published in the Italian press at the turn of the year by Martin Scorsese. Coming from someone so steeped in the cinematic tradition it is particularly striking, not least in the way it perceives hope in digital technology. To drive home this Janus-like ability to appreciate past and future with equanimity, yesterday Scorsese unveiled a blue plaque for Powell & Pressburger on Dorset House in London with Michael Powell’s widow and his own editor, Thelma Schoonmaker. I had a memorable encounter with Michael Powell in 1985 when I set up the Cambridge University Film Society – he had been brought back into prominence then by Scorsese and other champions like Ian Christie.

English Heritage blue plaque for Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger

Dearest Francesca,

I’m writing this letter to you about the future. I’m looking at it through the lens of my world. Through the lens of cinema, which has been at the center of that world.

For the last few years, I’ve realized that the idea of cinema that I grew up with, that’s there in the movies I’ve been showing you since you were a child, and that was thriving when I started making pictures, is coming to a close. I’m not referring to the films that have already been made. I’m referring to the ones that are to come.

I don’t mean to be despairing. I’m not writing these words in a spirit of defeat. On the contrary, I think the future is bright.

We always knew that the movies were a business, and that the art of cinema was made possible because it aligned with business conditions. None of us who started in the 60s and 70s had any illusions on that front. We knew that we would have to work hard to protect what we loved. We also knew that we might have to go through some rough periods. And I suppose we realized, on some level, that we might face a time when every inconvenient or unpredictable element in the moviemaking process would be minimized, maybe even eliminated. The most unpredictable element of all? Cinema. And the people who make it.

I don’t want to repeat what has been said and written by so many others before me, about all the changes in the business, and I’m heartened by the exceptions to the overall trend in moviemaking – Wes Anderson, Richard Linklater, David Fincher, Alexander Payne, the Coen Brothers, James Gray and Paul Thomas Anderson are all managing to get pictures made, and Paul not only got The Master made in 70mm, he even got it shown that way in a few cities. Anyone who cares about cinema should be thankful.

And I’m also moved by the artists who are continuing to get their pictures made all over the world, in France, in South Korea, in England, in Japan, in Africa. It’s getting harder all the time, but they’re getting the films done.

But I don’t think I’m being pessimistic when I say that the art of cinema and the movie business are now at a crossroads. Audio-visual entertainment and what we know as cinema – moving pictures conceived by individuals – appear to be headed in different directions. In the future, you’ll probably see less and less of what we recognize as cinema on multiplex screens and more and more of it in smaller theaters, online, and, I suppose, in spaces and circumstances that I can’t predict.

So why is the future so bright? Because for the very first time in the history of the art form, movies really can be made for very little money. This was unheard of when I was growing up, and extremely low budget movies have always been the exception rather than the rule. Now, it’s the reverse. You can get beautiful images with affordable cameras. You can record sound. You can edit and mix and color-correct at home. This has all come to pass.

But with all the attention paid to the machinery of making movies and to the advances in technology that have led to this revolution in moviemaking, there is one important thing to remember: the tools don’t make the movie, you make the movie. It’s freeing to pick up a camera and start shooting and then put it together with Final Cut Pro. Making a movie – the one you need to make – is something else. There are no shortcuts.

If John Cassavetes, my friend and mentor, were alive today, he would certainly be using all the equipment that’s available. But he would be saying the same things he always said – you have to be absolutely dedicated to the work, you have to give everything of yourself, and you have to protect the spark of connection that drove you to make the picture in the first place. You have to protect it with your life. In the past, because making movies was so expensive, we had to protect against exhaustion and compromise. In the future, you’ll have to steel yourself against something else: the temptation to go with the flow, and allow the movie to drift and float away.

This isn’t just a matter of cinema. There are no shortcuts to anything. I’m not saying that everything has to be difficult. I’m saying that the voice that sparks you is your voice – that’s the inner light, as the Quakers put it.

That’s you. That’s the truth.

All my love,

Dad

For Adam - Michael Powell Nov.17.1985

For Adam – Michael Powell Nov.17.1985

{Scorsese’s letter reproduced courtesy of L’Espresso}

Cafe Society (Day 22)

The coffee shop has a long tradition of being a place of creativity and innovation. Today I met up with Chris Ward who recently wrote a whole book about that association and how to make it work for you in the 21st century. He kindly gave me this copy:

out of office

As a person who spends one hour a day each way on the tube to work, so that’s 10 hours a week, or 1 day a week, so that’s 47 weeks a year, the book makes a lot of sense to me. The office and commute make no business, economic, environmental, transport or any other sense in this day and age.

Cafe No. 1: Campbell & Syne, East Finchley

I met my former colleague at Channel 4 Louise Brown for a catch-up and met her delightful new twins. Got to hold a baby for the first time in ages. That puts you in touch with what really matters and is worthwhile.

Campbell and Syne

Cafe No. 2: Shoreditch House, Shoreditch

Met up with some Channel 4 on-screen talent to discuss the end of the office, the end of the university degree, the end of borders, the end of cars, the end of the retail high street, the end of all sorts of things that make less and less sense in the digital age. Michael Acton Smith, who features in Chris’ book, walked past, not in his office. He’s done very well for himself by inventing Moshi Monsters in a cafe.

Shoreditch house club

Cafe No. 3: Albion, Shoreditch

I met Chris in Terence Conran’s Albion cafe. Outside in front I bumped into Utku and Noam from Mint Digital, creators of Stickygram, also not in their office. Mint and I thought up Quotables in a cafe opposite Great Ormond Street – it’s becoming a TV show this month (Was It Something I Said). Chris filled me in on the world of self-publication, design and printing which is how he chose to go with Out of Office. It got to No. 1 in the business charts.

Albion cafe shoreditch

Cafe No. 4: Dan and DeCarlo, East Finchley

I waited for Enfant Terrible No. 2 at this place opposite The Archer, East Finchley’s fine Art Deco landmark (a sculpture created by the man who designed the staircase to heaven in Powell & Pressberger’s A Matter of Life and Death). I wrote more of the Paul Arden chapter, an intense burst of writing to conclude the day. Chris Ward cites Paul Arden’s It’s Not How Good You Are… as a key text for his notional ‘Penny University’, a term used of the 18th Century coffee shops of London and their potential for learning – a penny bought you entry, a cup of the black stuff, the newspapers and snippets of journalistic gossip. Chris is in the habit of giving Arden’s tome away to everyone he ever works with.

dan and decarlo cafe

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