Not every movie needs to be art: is Martin Scorsese a film snob?
One of the burning questions that has dogged the cinematic discourse is whether or not the terms ‘movies’ and ‘cinema’ mean two completely different things. It’s entirely in the eye of the beholder, although it’s never been a secret which camp Martin Scorsese falls into.
In his adorable old man way, it’s rare to hear the legendary director refer to his features past, present, or future as anything other than ‘pictures’, and it’s a lesser phenomenon to hear him call something he made a ‘movie’. For Scorsese, he has lived and breathed celluloid for as long as he can remember, and as a result, it may have soured his opinion on anything he doesn’t believe fits that bill.
It’s got nothing to do with his disdain for the Marvel Cinematic Universe, either, because he’s hardly the only veteran to decry the effect comic book adaptations have had on such a cherished art form. However, it’s well worth noting that Paul Thomas Anderson was an outspoken supporter of both Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings and Venom: Let There Be Carnage, which doesn’t make him any less of an authority on his chosen profession.
There’s a bleakly dark level of humour in Scorsese’s apathy towards Todd Phillips’ Joker when the entire thing was effectively an homage to his work, complete with Robert De Niro. He doesn’t have to like mass-marketed and populist escapism, but does he have to be so openly dismissive about it?
A fascinating counterpoint to Marty’s school of thought comes in the bearded and plaid-loving shape of George Lucas. In 1973, they announced themselves as being among the most promising young filmmakers on the scene through Mean Streets and American Graffiti, respectively, before their careers took completely different paths from that moment forward.
They’re friends, too, but they exist at opposite ends of the spectrum. Scorsese hates the sway effects heavy and action-packed blockbusters have on the average filmgoer over intimate, character-driven stories, whereas Lucas used it as the springboard to make a monumental impact on the industry as a whole. Hollywood would look remarkably different if neither of them was part of it, but they’ve made that impression by doing very different things.
When quizzed for his thoughts on Scorsese’s idealised view of cinema, Lucas offered an interesting perspective of his own. “Look, cinema is the art of the moving image,” he said matter-of-factly. “So if the image moves, then it’s cinema. I think Marty has kind of changed his mind a little bit.” That would be an understatement, and for someone who has such a rigid view of cinematic terms and conventions, the bushy-browed savant of the gangster flick doesn’t seem to understand what a guilty pleasure is.
Being the studious fellow that he is, when Scorsese was asked to name his guilty pleasure movies, he rattled off no less than 130 of them, many of which are established classics. In what world do Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments, James Dean’s Giant, Mervyn LeRoy’s Quo Vadis, and James Whale’s The Man in the Iron Mask fit that particular bill? Marty’s, apparently.
When many of his contemporaries were asked the same question, they gave much more suitable answers. Christopher Nolan might be one of the most ambitious auteurs of his generation and an awards season favourite who has carte blanche to make whatever he wants on whatever scale he sees fit to make it, but the man loves himself some MacGruber.
James Cameron has built his career on revolutionising cinema, and for unexplainable reasons, he’s got a very soft spot for Paul W.S. Anderson’s wretched video game adaptation Resident Evil. Bong Joon-ho is one of world cinema’s most renowned voices who crafts resonant, socially-conscious tales, but he’s a sucker for Vin Diesel’s Pitch Black. Those are guilty pleasures, not a selection of heavyweights celebrated for their creative and artistic merits.
People are entitled to like what they like, but that doesn’t mean they have to shit all over everything they don’t. Cinema owes a huge debt of gratitude to Scorsese for the incredible filmography he’s accumulated and the colossal shadow he’s cast over it, and yet, that doesn’t mean he has to stand in the middle of the battle between art and entertainment in a manner not unlike a gatekeeper to defend his definition of what it should be. Film snob? Perhaps not, but a little open-mindedness nonetheless goes a long way.
