Book Review: The American Cinema: Directors and Directions, 1929-1968 by Andrew Sarris

Love it or hate it, The American Cinema by Andrew Sarris is a pivotal book in the history of film criticism. A proponent of the autuer theory, the idea films should be seen through lens of the director who is equivalent to the author of a novel, is popularized and explained. Sarris never claims auteur theory is the final word on criticism, but merely a lens with which to understand movies. 

The book changed the way film goers about movies, in particular movies from the studio era. For a long time those films were viewed as no different Fords coming off an assembly line, the overwhelming majority serving as mediocre entertainments. Directors were viewed more as orchestra conductors instead of artists. Along with French New Wave filmmakers who energized by American film, these movies and their directors took on an entirely new meaning. 

The book uses a creative ranking system, starting with the "Pantheon Directors." These were directors who not only innovators, but laid the foundations of cinema. Some of the list include Alfred Hitchcock, John Ford, Fritz Lang, Orson Welles, and Charles Chaplin. Many, many more directors are covered ranging from the familiar to the obscure. Ranging from near great to overrated, some of the essays are jaw dropping in their dismissals, especially for John Huston and Stanley Kubrick. Agree or disagree, there's a verve and power to the writing.

American Cinema should still be read by any student or fan of film. In a recent interview, Quentin Tarantino recalled stealing an edition from his school library. Good criticism should get under the skin and Sarris is not afraid for the occasional takedown. The book also calls for the reevaluation and unearths many forgotten films from directors no one remembers, serving as a crash course in film. Sarris allows the reader to look at film in a critical way - and makes you think about why you like what you like. 

Limitations are also apparent. The work of female directors is for the most part ignored. Cinematography is mentioned, but there should be more on its relationship to direction. But Sarris freely admits the auteur approach may only apply to certain directors, those with a deep enough filmography.

One wonders how Sarris managed to see all these films long before home video. They were only available on television or maybe through available prints, living in New York may have given him more access. Regardless, the book is an impressive feat for its vivid prose and encyclopedic approach to film history.