After France was liberated from German occupation during World War II, the ban on American films was lifted. Countless films came flooding into the country all at once. A small group of young men, including one André Bazin, completely devoured these films. Bazin and his fellow critics at the popular film criticism magazine Cahiers du Cinema, which he cofounded, rediscovered works that had been otherwise dismissed and forgotten. In their concentrated viewing of these films, they began to notice thematic and stylistic patterns throughout the collected works of certain directors, identifying the filmmakers as auteurs. As Kent Jones defines it in his article Critical Condition, an auteur is the single “governing author behind the camera”. The critics at Cahiers developed what they called La Politique des Auteurs, or as Andrew Sarris called it when the idea reached America, Auteur Theory.
Most would agree that there isn’t necessarily anything wrong with this idea in its most basic form. In his article De la Politique des Auteurs, which is the focus of this presentation, Bazin does acknowledge that auteur theory certainly has positives and benefits. However, Bazin did consider the theory a dangerous one. As Peter Wollen observes in his writing Signs and Meaning in the Cinema, “auteur theory grew up rather haphazardly; it was never elaborated in programmatic terms, in a manifesto or collective statement.” Since there are no clear-cut rules concerning auteur theory, over the years there have been varying interpretations with regard to how it is implemented. In his day, this is what Bazin was reacting to and warning against. He feared how people might abuse the concept. He never dismisses auteur theory; however, he does suggest amendments with regard to how we think about it.
In his article, Bazin addresses how his view of auteur theory differs from other critics writing for Cahiers. He says, “almost our only difference concerns the relationship between the work and its creator.” He argues that the theory puts more emphasis on the importance of an auteur than is healthy. While he may praise an auteur for giving their work an inner meaning expressing their personal view of life, he doesn’t view this concept as the be all and end all. A film may be said to be an expression of its artist’s soul, but it isn’t a part of the artist. He argues that “as soon as you state that the filmmaker and his films are one, there can be no minor films, as the worst of them will always be in the image of their creator”. Just because more of the ‘auteur’ is observable in a film, doesn’t make that film good. You should focus your criticism on the film itself, as opposed to the filmmaker.
Bazin presents us with an artificial equation. He suggests that “auteur + subject = work”. However, some critics would seem to prefer more banal scenarios in the films they watch, just so that the ‘expression of the auteur’s soul’ takes centre stage. For these critics, the only equation that matters is auteur = work. They are effectively reducing the “subject” to zero. They are placing all significance onto the auteur and are disregarding everything else completely.
It is appropriate that Bazin opens with a certain quotation from Tolstoy’s diary because it acts as a perfect summary of Bazin’s main point of contention. The article opens; “Goethe Shakespeare? Everything they put their name to is supposed to be good, and people rack their brains to find beauty in the silliest little thing they bungled. All great talents, like Goethe, Shakespeare, Beethoven, Michelangelo, created not only beautiful works, but things that were less than mediocre, quite simply awful.” While Bazin sees merit in the idea of an auteur, he recognises that auteurs are not infallible. Bazin points out the absurdity of assuming a “film is automatically good as it has been made by an auteur”. Just because a filmmaker is considered a great auteur does not mean that every single film they make is necessarily of great critical significance. He was frustrated, because he felt the writings of the other critics at Cahiers gave the impression that auteurs were simply incapable of making bad films.
In her famous article Circles and Squares, Pauline Kael says “[w]here the French went off was in finding elaborate intellectual and psychological meanings in these simple action films.” This is an extension of Bazin’s belief that his fellow critic’s assumed there was artistic merit in films simply because they were made by auteurs they considered ‘great’. They were reading far too deeply into terrible films that didn’t deserve the critical attention which they were receiving. When they came across a flaw in a film, they regarded it as something beautiful which they simply didn’t yet understand. They would read so deeply into it as a work of genius, neglecting to realise that there wasn’t necessarily anything to understand. They needed to remove themselves from the romantic idea of the auteur as an infallible genius and recognise what was quite simply bad filmmaking.
Singing the praises of a mediocre film, simply because it was made by an auteur is obviously a shame. However, it’s the flipside of that coin that is a much more significant danger. Wollen writes, “metteurs en scène should not be discounted simply because they are not auteurs”. For Bazin, the real danger is when a genuinely good film is completely dismissed because its director wasn’t an auteur. There is no reason why a film by a generally average filmmaker cannot be a rare work of brilliance. And, as far as Bazin is concerned, these moments of brilliance aren’t made inferior by the fact they aren’t auteurist. He argues these films wouldn’t be rejected even nearly as often if “the critics had not begun by reading the signature at the bottom of the painting.” There is no reason to reject a film solely on the basis of who the filmmaker was, because the focus of criticism should be on the film itself and not the filmmaker.
The idea of a film as a pure expression of the auteur’s view of life makes the assumption that the film is solely the uninfluenced work of the auteur. However, this generally isn’t true. Bazin selects several films and compares them to paintings of the same time period. He asks of them, “Does it follow that one should see in them the same degree of individualization? I for one do not think so.” Cinema has always been a collaborative artform. It is a dance of many departments coming together in order to make one joint end product. It is a far cry from a solitary artist dabbing a bit of paint onto a canvas. An auteur is the driving influence on a film, but to assume they are the only influence is absurd. To use the example Bazin himself gave, Citizen Kane is considered the auteurist work of Orson Welles, but it would be a mistake to downplay the significant influence of cinematographer Greg Toland’s influence on the film.
This idea very much downplays the importance of the auteur in the filmmaking process. It falls nicely into line with Bazin’s argument that the work is of more significance than the auteur who made it. The auteur remains the driving force in the film, however they are still just a part of a filmmaking machine. On his downplaying of the auteur’s significance, Bazin says “[t]his does not mean one has to deny the role of the auteur, but simply give him back the preposition without which the noun auteur remains but a halting concept. Auteur, yes, but what of?” Bazin doesn’t dismiss the idea of auteurs, but instead tries to refocus our attention on the auteur’s work instead, because, at the end of the day, a filmmaker is nothing if there are no films. This is a reassurance not to fear relative anonymity in order to rightfully shine the spotlight away from the artist and back onto the art.
However, even in cases of complete anonymity, art is not necessarily just ignored. Bazin comments on the writings of the French Resistance, observing that their anonymity “in no way lessened the dignity or responsibility of the writer.” In dealing with anonymous art, it is impossible to analyse the artist and the repetition of themes throughout their collective works. Does this mean that their art is somehow lessened? Surely the art itself remains unchanged by the anonymity of its artist. Applying these ideas to cinema, perhaps Bazin is correct when he says, “the work transcends the director”. A purely anonymously-made film would still be significant despite its lack of an auteur credit, because the work will always be more significant than its artist. After all, an artist without art is just a person. Art without an artist is still art. A film could still be critiqued and appreciated, without any knowledge of who its auteur is. In many ways, the filmmaker’s identity is a luxury and doesn’t really matter in the long run.
However, if society truly did believe the auteur’s identity was of no significance, then there wouldn’t even be an auteur theory to write about. Bazin recognises this, describing anonymity as “a handicap that impinges only very slightly on our understanding” of a piece of art. So what then is the significance of identity behind an artwork? Kael, who argues against auteur theory, suggests that perhaps the auteur’s significance is less related to the criticism of a piece of art and moreso as a kind of viewing guide; if you like a film by a certain director, then perhaps you’ll like another film, by the same director. She says that “there is no rule or theory involved in any of this, just simple discrimination; we judge the man from his films and learn to predict a little about his next films, we don’t judge the films from the man.” Interestingly, Kael, who doesn’t agree with auteur theory, has the same focus that drives Bazin, who was a key figure in auteur theory’s development; look at the film not the filmmaker.
Bazin praises aspects of auteur theory, recognising the “great merit of treating the cinema as an adult art and of reacting against the impressionistic relativism that still reigns over the majority of film reviews.” There is obvious merit in approaching film criticism with a well thought through theoretical approach, because the alternative is essentially just explaining your very subjective personal opinion. And if that is all your criticism does, then, as Bazin says, it “presupposes the superiority of the critic’s taste over that of the author.” Purely subjective criticism has no real purpose or significance. You cannot expect people to agree with your position if you haven’t considered any form of formal criticism.
However, I won’t outright deny that personal opinion on a film is still important, because the alternative is, in Bazin’s words, critics “objectively applying to a film a critical allpurpose yardstick”. Film is art, which means that it is creative and subjective by nature. According to Kael, an attempt to blindly apply any formula to film criticism simply “distorts experience”. Auteur theory brings a certain degree of structure to film criticism, however, if used carelessly, it just restricts film’s fundamental subjectivity.
When it comes to auteur theory, perhaps choosing either complete commitment or complete dismissal is a mistake. Kael says that “[t]he greatness of critics like Bazin… may have something to do with their using their full range of intelligence and intuition, rather than relying on formulas. Criticism is an art, not a science.” Fully applying auteur theory to criticism as essentially a formula restricts your view of the film you are criticising. And relying solely on your subjective impression of the film restricts the potential to dig deeper into the work. It seems that straying too far down either path will result in getting lost. Perhaps it is best to walk the line.
Bibliography
Bazin, André, ‘La Politique des Auteurs’ in Auteurs and Authorship: A Film Reader, ed. by Barry Keith Grant (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2008) pp. 19-28
Jones, Kent, ‘Critical Condition: From the Politique des Auteurs to the Auteur Theory to plain old Auteurism, how clear a picture of actual movies are we receiving?’ in Film Comment, Volume 50.2 (2014): pp. 40-45
Joubert-Laurencin, Hervé, ‘André Bazin and Arts: The Reverse of a Theorem’ in Film Criticism, Volume 39.1 (2014): pp. 81-99
Kael, Pauline, ‘Circles and Squares’ in Film Quarterly, Volume 16.3 (1963): pp. 12-26
Sarris, Andrew, ‘Notes on the Auteur Theory in 1962’ in Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings, ed. by Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen (Oxford: Oxford University Press: 1999) pp.515-518
Thompson, Kristin and David Bordwell, ‘Art Cinema and the Idea of Authorship’ in Film History: An Introduction, (New York, University of Wisconsin-Madison, 2003) pp. 415-438
Wollen, Peter, ‘From Signs and Meaning in the Cinema: The Auteur Theory’ in Film Theory and Criticism: Introductory Readings, ed. by Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen (Oxford: Oxford University Press: 1999) pp.519-531
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