In week 4, we took a look into the Politique Des Auteurs, or Auteur Theory, which was developed by critics from Cahiers du Cinéma. This theory emerged from the belief that American cinema deserved in-depth study and that cinematic masterpieces were not limited to a select group of elite directors but included a variety of filmmakers whose work had previously been overlooked.
Andrew Sarris:
We explored Andrew Sarris’s influential notes on the auteur theory from 1962. Unlike a manifesto, his notes aimed to clarify the auteur issue, especially since auteurism wasn’t widely accepted among screenwriters and other film collaborators in 1950s-60s America. Sarris questioned how auteur theory differs from merely viewing directors as the sole creators of a film.
One of the key assumptions is that the director is the author who imparts a distinctive character to the film. Sarris proposed three criteria for auteurism in the first part of his notes. He emphasised that directors don’t always adhere to a specific style; we can’t assume a bad director will always create poor films or that a good director will always produce great ones. He pointed out that elements like cinematography, editing, and acting also play significant roles in determining a film’s quality, suggesting that a film can still be made even without a traditional director. He described “a direction that is nonexistent” as a challenge for critics when evaluating a film’s production.
In parts two and three of his notes, Sarris argued that films should reflect the director’s unique personality, showcasing their recurring characteristics and style, as well as their thoughts and feelings. The third criterion focuses on the film’s interior meaning, which Sarris sees as the ultimate glory of cinema as an art form.
To visualise the auteur theory, Sarris used the concept of three concentric circles: technique, personal style, and interior meaning. According to him, a director’s role encompasses being a technician, a stylist, and an auteur.
Pauline Kael:
We also looked at Pauline Kael’s views on auteur theory through her piece “Circles and Squares,” which responds to Sarris. Kael disagrees with the core ideas of the auteur theory, saying it often praises directors who use boring and obvious techniques. She critiques Sarris’s tone when discussing the importance of viewing a director’s work as a complete piece.
For Kael, while it’s important to recognise that directors improve their technical skills over time, this shouldn’t be the only way to judge them. She believes a better focus for critics is to find what is new and important in films and help others appreciate it.
Kael also points out that many great directors break the usual rules of technical skill, suggesting that following these rules isn’t always necessary for creating meaningful art. Her critique adds depth to our understanding of auteur theory by showing that evaluating a filmmaker’s work is complex and that the art of cinema is always changing.
Modes of Auteurism:
We also discussed the modes of auteurism, highlighting how the practical aspects of film production can clarify the idea of authorship. When we examine auteurism through various criteria, it becomes clear that the concept can be “refurbished” by moving away from the traditional, singular views of what an artist is.
This shift opens the door for many potential auteurs, including creative personnel, agencies, and even corporations that influence cinema but may be overlooked by older, romanticised ideas of authorship.
Paul Wells:
Paul Wells pointed out that animation complicates the issue of authorship. While it often follows the large-scale production processes of the film industry, it also allows filmmakers to work almost entirely on their own. In this way, animation can be seen as one of the most auteur-driven film practices. Even in collaborative projects, animation emphasises the personal touch of the creator.
Wells describes the auteur as someone who shapes and executes the core themes, techniques, and expressive goals of a film. This person brings together key elements and meanings, creating a cohesive vision. The auteur also communicates their artistic and thematic intentions through an evolving narrative about their work, becoming an implied presence in the film’s story and influencing both its surface and deeper meanings. Furthermore, the auteur represents a blend of art and commerce, helping to clarify how these two aspects interact.
A fascinating case study in this discussion is Walt Disney. Wells notes that Disney is often seen as a pioneering figure in the animation industry. However, even supporters of Disney struggle to define his specific mode of authorship. Wells considers him “the most important animator” while also saying he is “barely an animator at all.” This paradox raises questions about how we evaluate authorship in animation.
Wells argues that Disney should be remembered as an “author” who fostered specific creative forms rather than someone who hindered the genuine, improvisational spirit of animated art. He did this by controlling and shaping animation as an industrial process, highlighting the complex relationship between artistry and commercial production.
From my perspective, this discussion emphasises how understanding authorship in film, especially in animation, requires us to look beyond traditional views. It shows that a variety of influences, including those from larger entities like Disney, can play a significant role in shaping creative works.
In conclusion, our exploration of the auteur theory and its critiques has revealed the complexity of authorship in film, particularly in animation. While Sarris’s framework highlights the director’s unique vision, Kael’s response underscores the importance of innovation and the collaborative nature of filmmaking. The modes of auteurism further enrich our understanding by illustrating how various influences, including those from larger organisations and creative personnel, contribute to cinematic art.