A Specter Haunting the Cinema

The Sixties A Journal of History, Politics and Culture ISSN: (Print) (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rsix20 A specter haunting the cinema David Fresko To cite this article: David Fresko (2020) A specter haunting the cinema, The Sixties, 13:2, 146-155, DOI: 10.1080/17541328.2020.1835378 To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/17541328.2020.1835378 Published online: 20 Oct 2020. Submit your article to this journal Article views: 22 View related articles View Crossmark data Full Terms & Conditions of access and use can be found at https://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=rsix20 THE SIXTIES 2020, VOL. 13, NO. 2, 146–155 REVIEW ESSAY Enduring images: a future history of new left cinema, by Morgan Adamson, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 2018, 322 pp., US$27.00 (paperback), ISBN: 9781517903091 1968 and global cinema, edited by Christina Gerhardt and Sara Saljoughi, Detroit, Wayne State University Press, 2018, vii + 384 pp., US$31.99 (paperback), ISBN 9780814342930 Architectures of revolt: the cinematic city circa 1968, edited by Mark Shiel, Philadelphia, Temple University Press, 2018, x + 262 pp., US$36.95 (paperback), ISBN: 9781439910047 Academia loves anniversaries. As such, it comes as no surprise that 2018 would commemorate 1968, a year so enshrined in our collective consciousness that a vast literature across all disciplines in the humanities has emerged on the subject. “1968” is therefore more than a date; it radiates not only the promise of emancipation on a global scale spearheaded by people newly present upon the field of history, such as Third World peoples, Black people, students, and women, but also the neoliberal counterrevolution that sought to mitigate what social, political, cultural, and economic gains they achieved.1 It is also an event that has been thoroughly understood by the media that helped shape it, above all, film, photography, and television, which not only documented those days and months of crisis, catastrophe, and ecstasy, but have subsequently memorialized it via documentaries, historical dramas, photo books, and more. When protestors at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago that year chanted, “the whole world is watching,” they directed themselves at viewers watching police violence at home on television; they did not realize that their cheers were future oriented. Three new books in the field of Film and Media Studies – Enduring Images: A Future History of New Left Cinema by Morgan Adamson, Architectures of Revolt edited by Mark Shiel, and 1968 and Global Cinema edited by Christina Gerhardt and Sara Saljoughi – are welcome contributions that confirm the centrality of cinematic praxis to the social movements that shaped the “Long Sixties.” Taken together, they share a common set of questions, namely, how do film and other media reflect and affect social and political movements at local and global levels, and what implications do these images and sounds have for politics today? Many of the films, filmmakers, and social movements examined by these writers will be well known to scholars of the period. However, studies of 1960s cinematic politics have mostly insulated themselves from comparative, transnational methodologies, preferring instead to focus on film’s role in local community organizing or its contribution to a nation-state’s self-identity.2 By contrast, these volumes partake of a methodological turn in the humanities now more than two decades strong that frames Sixties protest culture through an international lens, deepening our understanding of what Kodwo Eshun and Ros Gray have described as the “ciné-geography” of the “militant image,” which encompasses the material and discursive networks through which political cinematic praxis articulated itself in the This article has been republished with minor changes. These changes do not impact the academic content of the article. THE SIXTIES 147 past and into the future.3 Traversing First, Second, and Third Worlds, the radical cinematic geographies explored by these authors seek to transgress the boundaries of national cinemas and vitiate a still all too dominant center-periphery model that would prioritize the cinematic output of countries like the U.S. and France (1968 and Global Cinema, 2–3). How to properly calibrate esthetics and politics is a question that has informed the discourse of avant-garde film and socially engaged documentary for more than a century. During the 1960s, this question was posed with a renewed urgency. Global art cinema and a fascination with Hollywood were cresting as worldwide cultural phenomena. Theorists, critics, and practitioners emphasized the medium’s affective, persuasive, and, ultimately, revolutionary powers. In the words of the French film critic Serge Daney, “In 1968, for the most radical – the most left-wing – element among filmmakers, one thing is certain: you have to learn to get away from the cinema (from cinephilia and obscurantism) or at least forge a link between the cinema and something else.”4 The ambiguity at the heart of Daney’s observation – the “something else” that the cinema must latch on to in order to emancipate itself from “cinephilia and obscurantism” – reveals, in its mystery, the practical and conceptual obstacles that prevented film from easily aligning itself with “the revolution.” Robert Stam summarizes the problem in “The ‘Long 1968ʹ and Radical Film Aesthetics”: “Should the films adapt classical narrative and dramatic storytelling strategies, or be anti-illusionist, reflexive, antinarrative, antispectacular, in short avant-garde? What was the relation between the largely middle-class directors and the ‘people’ whom they purported to serve and represent? Should they be a cultural vanguard speaking ahead of and for the people, or merely be the passive mouthpieces of the people, the advocates of popular and mass culture, or the critics of its alienation?” (1968 and Global Cinema, 39–40). In neither theory nor practice were these questions satisfactorily resolved. As critical film analysis moved from the 1960s to the 1970s (and into universities), it increasingly explored, through a battery of methods ranging from structural-semiotics, psychoanalysis, Marxism, and eventually feminism, how the cinematic apparatus inculcated audiences into dominant ideologies. What we see, claims Mark Shiel by way of Francesco Cassetti, “is the perception of art as a particular battlefield, rather than a mere extension of the battles fought inside society . . . a movement from cinema towards politics” (Architectures of Revolt, 3). “Cinematic politics” as practiced by filmmakers vaunted by the contemporary critical establishment – Jean-Luc Godard, enfant terrible of the French New Wave, avatars of Latin American Third Cinema, such as Glauber Rocha and Ruy Guerra, the French-born but Germany-based duo Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet, and Robert Kramer, the cine-revolutionary of the American New Left, to name a few – dismantled and defamiliarized commercial cinemas’ representational assumptions through often Brechtian idioms that emphasized, beyond content, the politics of form. “Political modernism” was the result, a mode of theoretical cinematic praxis so named by Sylvia Harvey and comprehensively critiqued by David Rodowick.5 Though foundational to film studies’ development as an academic discipline, “political modernism” was stymied, according to Rodowick, on two fronts: first, by an ascetic formalism predicated on a deconstructive binary between realism/illusionism (understood as “Hollywood”) and modernism/materialism (construed as “counter-cinema”) that sidestepped the actual substance of what was being represented; and second, by an impoverished understanding of viewer activity, which claimed spectatorship to be beholden to a film’s style as opposed to other extra-cinematic determinations (with 148 BOOK REVIEW the exception of gender, these included race, social class, and nationality).6 Nonetheless, the key insight regarding the non-neutrality of form has inextricably shaped the most innovative scholarship in the field. In the Euro-American context, scholars ask what, for instance, are the historical particularities of spectatorship?7 How does the cinematic apparatus (an interlocking machine that spans production, distribution, exhibition, and reception, as well as the underlying ideological assumptions that inform each stage) shape social relations?8 And who actually gets to make movies and why?9 Enduring Images, Architectures of Revolt, and 1968 and Global Cinema continue the project of decentering “film” from its normative commercial perch by situating it at the transnational crossroads where the three worlds meet in often uneasy alliance. One of the virtues of this emphasis is to join in the ongoing and necessary decoupling of “New Hollywood” from the new cinemas that developed during the postwar period. Clearly commercial cinemas, including the various European new waves, participated in and exploited the esthetic and political revolutions of the time.10 But the value of foregrounding (as these volumes mostly do) Latin American Third Cinema, Lusophone and Francophone African cinema, the postwar American avant-gardes, and committed documentary – the media practices that effloresced within sociopolitical movements themselves – is to reinforce the fact that their political contribution to the cinema was their derogation of film’s commodity status and concomitant transformation of production to reflect a more egalitarian and less alienated mode of labor distribution. Moreover, the postwar expansion of small-gauge, amateur filmmakers from across the cinematic spectrum precipitated the development of minor cinemas that were, in Adamson’s words, “powerful conduits for organizing revolutionary activities” and “producing affinities between disparate struggles” within transnational counternetworks of left political exchange (Adamson, 2, 10). The affinities linking discrete cinematic struggles appeared in multiple forms. Filmmakers might share ideological perspectives, political tactics, esthetic values, or simply see themselves as part of a shared revolutionary spirit. For Shiel, editor of Architectures of Revolt and author of one of its more compelling essays (“‘It’s a Big Garage’: Cinematic Images of Los Angeles circa 1968”), a key correspondence was a concern with “the urban condition” (19). Activists, filmmakers, and architects “sought to remake the urban landscape as an expression of utopian longing or as a dystopian critique of the established order” (Architectures of Revolt, 1). This compelled members of all three groups to reconsider their basic operational assumptions. How were filmmakers to surmount the challenges of abandoning studios in favor of real urban environments? What were the moral, ethical, and political implications of blurring the line between filmmaker, or architect, and activist? Why did architecture, which had long been associated with utopian planning, seem to cause social unrest? With individual chapters dedicated to Paris, Milan, Berlin, Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, Mexico City, and Tokyo, Architectures of Revolt surveys how 1968 occasioned a reckoning for film and architecture, where both “were gripped by self-conscious reflection on their raison d’être as much as by innovative making and creating” (4). Exploring how European art cinema, the New Hollywood, agitational documentary, and state-sponsored filmmaking reflected and shaped the social relations materialized by architectural spaces, Architectures of Revolt is most illuminating when it lives up to the promise that “the built environment, like cinema, is especially interesting and revealing at times when ideological struggle breaks out in the massing of bodies in peaceful protest and the confrontation of forces prepared for, and sometimes using, violence” (11). THE SIXTIES 149 The strongest essays in the collection – Jesse Lerner’s “Cinema and the Mexico City of 1968,” Jennifer Stob’s “The Cinétracts, Détournement, and Social Space in Paris,” and Andrew J. Webber’s “Inextinguishable Fire – or How to Make a Film in Berlin in 1968” – seem to pressurize state violence, urban architecture, global spectacle, and film into something combustible. Take Mexico City. Two landmark events took place there in 1968: the Summer Olympics, which began on October 10, and the massacre of leftists in the Tlateleco district eight days earlier. The Olympics were an effort by the Mexican state to burnish its image as a “developing nation” on the world stage. This grew out of a broader modernization initiative, which was reflected in the “functionalism” of the architect Mario Pani’s multifamiliares, apartment complexes that supplanted the hodgepodge array of homes in favor of rational, modernist planning in Tlateloco. When, on October 2, a secret paramilitary force murdered the protestors, they transformed these same buildings into “gun towers” and “surveillance posts for the cameramen who filmed the footage, which was subsequently long suppressed” (Architectures of Revolt, 199). Such dark ironies are familiar to modernization in general, but an incredible twist of ideologically compromised fate emphasized by Lerner is that those same filmmakers, with those same cameras, then shot Olimpiade en Mexico (Alberto Isaac, 1968), the Academy-Award nominated documentary chronicle of the games, a film made in the same spirit and with resources equal to Leni Riefenstahl’s Olympia (1938) and Kon Ichikawa’s Tokyo Olympiad (1965). While the state may monopolize the right to violence, it cannot exercise total control over images, and Lerner’s discussion of six Communicados (1968) – protest films by and for the movement that featured footage of marches, newspaper headlines, still photos, and protest songs from across Latin America – demonstrates the gritty esthetics that informed the cinema’s contribution to the Mexican student struggle. And though he does not attempt to claim this work, and others like it, as a lost contribution to “Third Cinema,” a strain of political cinematic modernism that flourished in Argentina, Chile, Bolivia, Brazil, and Cuba at the time, Lerner nonetheless highlights a dissident film culture in a country whose film industry was the most commercially developed in the Spanish-speaking world.11 The Communicados found their counterparts in the French ciné-tracts, threeminute long 16 mm films that were produced collectively and anonymously in France between May 1968 and March 1969 and are far better known by scholars of the Sixties. Though unsigned, major French filmmakers, including Alain Resnais, Chris Marker, and Jean-Luc Godard, were instrumental in their creation. Stob’s is sure to be the definitive analysis, effectively plumbing the cine-tracts in their historical, political, and theoretical density. As outgrowths of the Situationist International’s commitment to détournement, a subversive mode of artistic intervention predicated on the ironic re-contextualization of stolen images and texts, as well as a longer history of montage, Stob argues that “the ciné-tracts insisted that the cinema should be understood not as a mirror, a window, or an illusion, but as a surface on which we pass images to one another and around which we can commune, like a countertop or a desk” (Architectures of Revolt, 41, 47). As vectors for the creation of consciousness and community-building via their projection on the sides of buildings and other non-cinematic spaces, the ciné-tracts simultaneously reinforce the urgency of “now” and project themselves into the future, constituting “a euphoric state of subversive, shared immanence that anchors itself in a desired reality rather than the current reality” (Architectures of Revolt, 18). 150 BOOK REVIEW Stob’s shrewd entanglement of history, futurity, and the subversive dimensions of Situationist-inspired détournement dovetails with two critical ambitions of Enduring Images: to link multiple forms of filmic action under the heading “New Left Cinema”; and to theorize how the continued attraction of 1960s protest cinemas ruptures linear historical time and opens new, creative pathways for alternate futures freed from the supposed inevitabilities of neoliberal capitalism (15–19). “New Left cinema” is capacious enough to encompass a variety of cinemas. We see it, for example, in The Hour of the Furnaces (1968), the revolutionary Argentinian film directed by Octavio Getino and Fernando Solanas that served as a springboard for their influential notion of Third Cinema; Columbia Revolt (1968), produced by New York Newsreel, which conceived of itself as a propaganda arm for the domestic New Left; Nihon kaiho sensen – Sanrizuka no natsu (The Battlefront for the Liberation of Japan – Summer in Sanrizuka) (1968), by Ogawa Pro, an avant-garde, documentary collective from Japan led by Ogawa Shinsuke; Finally Got the News (1970), the notorious documentary collaboration between Stewart Bird, Rene Lichtman, and Peter Gessner of Newsreel with Detroit’s League of Revolutionary Black Workers; video documentaries by Italian feminist groups Collettivo Femminista di Cinema-Roma (Feminist Cinema Collective-Rome) and the Gruppo Femminista Milanese per il Salario al Lavoro Domestico (Milanese Feminist Group for Wages for Domestic Labor); the development of “cybernetic guerilla warfare” by the Raindance Corporation and its journal Radical Software; and, finally, the political cinemas of well-known cineastes Godard, Marker, and Guy Debord, the last of whose films Adamson treats as equal to his better-known theoretical output. Chapters may be read individually, thereby facilitating their educational use-value, and several should be understood as important contributions to film theory, documentary film studies, and cultural studies of 1960s esthetic and political rebellion. The first four – on “New Left cinema” as a form of political treatise that challenges conventional notions of the “essay film,” on the cinemas of student revolt in the U.S. and Japan (which are partially reproduced in 1968 and Global Cinema), black workers’ cinema in Detroit, and Italian feminist video collectives – are demonstrative of the book’s methodological strengths. Adamson combines formal analysis, historical contextualization and theories of labor, organizing, and the global economy to fashion a dynamic understanding of culture’s relation to social movements. The study of student rebellion, for instance, is perceptively framed not simply as a social and political phenomenon, but also as an epistemological problem; it challenged “the role of the university in imperialist ventures, its production of specialized labor for capital, and the ways that its knowledges participated in the reproduction of manifold forms of inequality” (Adamson, 69–70). Columbia Revolt, about the student takeover of Columbia University in April 1968, is indicative of these multiple points of intervention: labor reproduction via higher education results in alienation; the university’s displacement of Black and Puerto Rican communities in Manhattan’s Morningside Heights was akin to US. military intervention and corporate exploitation abroad; the schism between white and Black students was a metonym for the racial torsions roiling the movement as a whole; and “situated knowledge,” a form of radical, communal, and speculative empiricism, served as the point of departure for generating new modes of collective experience engendered by the barricades. As with her analysis of Detroit’s League of Revolutionary Black Workers and Finally Got the News, Adamson brilliantly understands film not as a mere representation of or appendage to political movements and the socioeconomic worlds they seek to transform, but ontologically integral to those very transformations (118). THE SIXTIES 151 What links these disparate forms of cinematic praxis other than their historical adjacence is the introduction of the notion of “New Left cinema.” Not so much a genre as a posture, “New Left cinema” constitutes “a set of political and practical commitments that revolve around decentralization, participation, internationalism, deprofessionalization, and antiauthoritarianism, among others – principles that guided many political and aesthetic practices of that era” (Adamson, 7). Combining avant-garde and documentary traditions, “New Left cinema” was “produced by collectives that actively rejected the conventions of cinematic authorship and sought to forge new networks of production and distribution outside existing channels” (Adamson, 7–8). “New Left cinema,” in fact, does not simply transform film at the point of production, but challenges audiences through a kind of “cinematic thinking that harnesses the cinema’s unique capacity to produce arguments, analyses, and affects through a time-based audiovisual medium” (Adamson, 48). The aim, ultimately, was the cinematic mobilization of people for political purposes, engaging viewers through rhetorical, affective, and corporeal registers, or what Jane Gaines, following Michal Taussig, terms “political mimesis.”12 Though written with a militant fervor befitting its subject, Enduring Images is not fully able to disentangle the many contradictions embedded in the term “New Left cinema.” On the one hand, Adamson contrasts “New Left cinema” with popular appellations of the era like “militant cinema,” “political cinema,” “counter-cinema,” and “third cinema,” which “lack historical definition,” “do not identify any particular politics of militancy,” and fail to “elucidate what is being countered through the cinema and how” (7). The moniker “New Left” supposedly rectifies these limitations by granting this work a concrete politics, namely, the emancipatory aspirations of the New Left as it imagined “new political possibilities, modes of social organization, and affective forms of communication” (Adamson, 3). These claims, however, remain underdeveloped because Enduring Images lacks a sustained analysis of the terms it wishes to supplant. Key theoretical essays like Peter Wollen’s widely read “Godard and Counter-Cinema: Vent d’est,” which popularized the term “counter-cinema,” appears nowhere in the text.13 Moreover, despite a deep engagement with Solanas and Getino’s “Towards a Third Cinema,” the latter’s subsequent theorization of “militant cinema” as a particular subset of “Third Cinema” would have provided the discursive and historical contextualization necessary for its purported supersession by something more sensitive to the period’s political cinematic polyphony.14 But, more importantly, how to theorize the multiple modalities of political cinematic praxis and its effects on filmmakers and audiences alike was, in many ways, the critical a priori of all engaged film and cultural theory of the movement, from critics at Cahiers du cinéma, Cinéthique, and Positif’s competing definitions of what constituted a genuinely political film and Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Marxist semiotics to translations of Horkheimer and Adorno in Cine-Cubano, Black American cinema’s embrace of neo-realist and Third Cinema esthetics, and “guerilla” video collectives potential complicity with the network cultures that they wished to transgress. The term “New Left” itself is vexed and lacks the specificity that Adamson suggests. For Adamson, the “New left refers to . . . the protagonists of the global revolt that erupted in 1968 against . . . imperialism, patriarchy and heteronormativity, racism, authoritarianism, and capitalist expropriation” (3). Beyond “1968,” Adamson avers that “[a] general consensus among scholars is that the New Left’s ascendance commenced with events like the Montgomery bus boycotts and the rise of the civil rights in the United States, the Cuban revolution, the Battle of Algiers, and countless global 152 BOOK REVIEW events that disrupted the postwar global order and laid the groundwork for the following decade” (3). This breathless montage of political commitments, ideological affiliations, and historical events implies not so much international solidarity as similitude, which masks the fundamental conflicts that tore the New Left’s supposed unity apart. It is difficult, for example, to speak of a challenge to “patriarchy,” “heteronormativity,” and “authoritarianism” in the same breath as the Cuban Revolution, which was infamous for its machismo, cult of personality around Castro and Che, and horrific hostility to homosexuals. And, in the US., the Black freedom struggle understood itself as distinct from the white student movement and counter-culture, both of which consciously took on the mantle of the “New Left,” even though several attempts were made to actualize cross-racial alliances (as suggested by Columbia Revolt). To describe the “New Left” as “student, peasant, anti-imperialist, Black Power, gay liberation, and women’s movements, among others” therefore avoids the critiques launched by Black radicals and women (among others) against the white, male-dominated strands of political protest of that era (Adamson, 4). In fact, cross-race, cross-gender, crossclass, and transnational solidarities were the problems that vitiated the consistency that the label “New Left” implies. In 1965, when Annette Michelson argued that “[the] history of Cinema is, like that of Revolution in our time, a chronicle of hopes and expectations, aroused and suspended, tested and deceived,” she identified the specter haunting the cinema: a “radical aspiration” to transform the medium from an object of illusion into a tool of emancipation.15 Michelson’s judgment may today appear a romantic fantasy. The intervening halfcentury has witnessed the political economic consolidation of globalization and the interrelated intensification of a digital media ecology alienating enough to outstrip Debord’s most nightmarish premonitions. While extending the cinematic franchise to women, Black people, and Third World peoples during the Long Sixties doubtlessly troubled the representational power dynamics of the public sphere, access to the means of audiovisual production has come at a clear cost: surveillance by private capital and the atomization of individual experience into a digital arena that intensifies Debord’s great insight that “[the] spectacle . . . unites what is separate, but it unites it only in its separateness.”16 What we are left with, then, are images of rebellion, of a “failed” revolution. Why watch them in our era of malfunctioning political systems, alienated connectivity, economic catastrophe, white supremacy, and ecological devastation, all of which have coalesced in the form of an intractable pandemic that has rendered insupportable the legitimacy of the social contract for the US. and numerous nations across the globe? As Nancy Fraser attests: “It is as if masses of people throughout the world had stopped believing in the reigning common sense that has underpinned political domination for the last several decades. It is as if they had lost confidence in the bona fides of the elites and were searching for new ideologies, organizations, and leadership.”17 Here we see the poignance of Enduring Images’ second goal: to conceive of protest cinema as a rupture in linear time that opens the possibility for emancipated futures. The culture of cinematic protest remains a “productive failure,” one resulting in “an open cinematic form that, at every moment, contends with the contradictions of cinematic representation, as they are witnessed by the audiovisual content of the film and as they are embedded in the material history of its production” (Adamson, 120). Moreover, these cinemas of rebellion persist in two key ways. First, they “[endure] in untold gestures that produce and disseminate images that seek to generate different ways of knowing the world, a participatory THE SIXTIES 153 impulse that insists that anyone with a camera has the capacity to make cinematic intervention” (Adamson, 240). Second, they remain “unfinished,” lingering through history not as the static representation of a past no longer present, but “[apertures] through which we can remember anew, remember differently” (Adamson, 240). These are noble thoughts that pose once again the fundamental question 1968 asks of us: how do we reinvent collective politics and what political-cinematic strategies are necessary to envision that goal? Notes 1. See, for instance, Katsiaficas, Imagination of the New Left; Ross, May ’68 and its Afterlives; and Bourg, From Revolution to Ethics. The classic text in the field of film studies remains Harvey, May ’68 and Film Culture, though it lacks the attention to racial politics, feminism, and Third-Worldism that informs the most innovative scholarship of the ensuing years. 2. Studies of documentary in the U.S. and France in particular proliferate. See, for instance, Kahana, Intelligence Work, 141–266; Charbonneau, Projecting Race; and Grant, Cinéma Militant. Robé’s Breaking the Spell militates against this national chauvinism. See also Malitsky’s, Post-Revolution Nonfiction Film, which employs a trans-historical and transnational method to compare the 1920s Soviet documentary avant-garde with its Cuban counterpart of the 1960s and 1970s. 3. Eshun and Gray, “The Militant Image.” 4. Daney, “Theorize/Terrorize,” 116. 5. Harvey, “Whose Brecht?”; and Rodowick, Crisis of Political Modernism. 6. See, above all, the summarizing account Rodowick provides in the preface to the second edition of Crisis of Political Modernism. 7. Miriam Hansen, via an extensive engagement with the works of Oskar Negt and Alexander Kluge, was crucial in developing a non-empirical theory of spectatorship for understanding film as a fundamentally social medium constitutive of publics and counter-publics. See Hansen, Babel & Babylon. 8. For an analysis of how alternative cinemas of the 1960s shaped their mode of production to reflect their utopian aspirations, see James, Allegories of Cinema. 9. On non-hegemonic sexualities and underground filmmaking, see Suarez, Bike Boys. On women and alternative filmmaking, see Rabinovitz, Points of Resistance. On Black American cinema, see Field, Stewart, and Horak, L.A. Rebellion. See also Field and Gordon, Screening Race. 10. No less an authority of the white New Left than Todd Gitlin invokes, without a hint of irony, ersatz counter-cultural films like Bonnie and Clyde (USA, Arthur Penn, 1967) and Easy Rider (USA, Dennis Hopper, 1969) as instances of cinema’s intersection with New Left rebellion. See Gitlin, Sixties, 34, 287, 316, and 318. In the context of world art cinema, see Armes, Ambiguous Image; Nowell-Smith, Making Waves; and Cowie, Revolution! 11. Martin, New Latin American Cinema. 12. Gaines, “Political Mimesis.” 13. Wollen, “Godard and Counter-Cinema.” 14. Getino, “Algunas observaciones.” On the changing historical, political, and theoretical conditions of Solanas and Getino’s praxis as part of the Peronist Grupo Cine Liberación, see Mestman, “Third Cinema/Militant Cinema.” 15. Michelson, “Film and the Radical Aspiration,” 83. 154 BOOK REVIEW 16. Debord, Society of the Spectacle, 22. Emphasis in original. 17. Fraser, The Old Is Dying, 8. Bibliography Armes, Roy. The Ambiguous Image. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1976. Bourg, Julian. From Revolution to Ethics: May 1968 and Contemporary French Thought. Montréal, Québec: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2007. Charbonneau, Stephen. Projecting Race: Postwar America, Civil Rights, and Documentary Film. New York: Columbia University Press, 2016. Cowie, Peter. Revolution! the Explosion of World Cinema in the 60s. London: Faber and Faber, 2006. Daney, Serge. “Theorize/Terrorize (Godardian Pedagogy).” In Cahiers du Cinéma, 1973-1978: History, Ideology Cultural Struggle, edited by David Wilson, 116–123. New York: Routledge, 2000. Debord, Guy. The Society of the Spectacle. Translated by Donald Nicholson-Smith. New York: Zone Books, 1995. Eshun, Kodwo, and Ros Gray. “The Militant Image: A Ciné-Geography.” Third Text 25, no. 1, January (2011): 1–12. doi:10.1080/09528822.2011.545606. Field, Allyson Nadia, and Marsha Gordon, eds. Screening Race in American Nontheatrical Film. Durham: Duke University Press, 2019. Field, Allyson Nadia, Jacqueline Najuma Stewart, and Jan-Christopher Horak, eds. L.A. Rebellion: Creating a New Black Cinema. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2015. Fraser, Nancy. The Old Is Dying and the New Cannot Be Born. London: Verso, 2019. Gaines, Jane M. “Political Mimesis.” In Collecting Visible Evidence, edited by Jane M. Gaines and Micahel Renov, 84–102. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1999. Getino, Octavio. “Algunas observaciones sobre el concepto del ‘Tercer Cine.” In A diez años de ‘Hacia un tercer cine, 7–22. Mexico City: Filmoteca de la UNAM, 1982. Gitlin, Todd. The Sixties: Years of Hope, Days of Rage. New York: Bantam Books, 1987. Grant, Paul Douglas. Cinéma Militant: Political Filmmaking and May 1968. New York: Columbia University Press, 2016. Hansen, Miriam. Babel & Babylon: Spectatorship in American Silent Film. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991. Harvey, Sylvia. May ’68 and Film Culture. London: BFI Publishing, 1980. Harvey, Sylvia. “Whose Brecht? Memories for the Eighties.” Screen 23, no. 1, (May/June 1982): 45–59. doi:10.1093/screen/23.1.45. James, David E. Allegories of Cinema: American Film in the Sixties. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989. Kahana, Jonathan. Intelligence Work: The Politics of American Documentary. New York: Columbia University Press, 2008. Katsiaficas, George. The Imagination of the New Left: A Global Analysis of 1968. Boston: Beacon Press, 1987. Malitsky, Joshua. Post-Revolution Nonfiction Film: Building the Soviet and Cuban Nations. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2013. Martin, Michael T., ed. New Latin American Cinema, Volume 1: Theory, Practices, and Transcontinental Articulations. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1997. Mestman, Mariano. “Third Cinema/Militant Cinema: At the Origins of the Argentinian Experience (1968-1971).” Third Text 25, no. 1, (March 2011): 29–40. doi:10.1080/09528822.2011.545609. Michelson, Annette. “Film and the Radical Aspiration.” In The New American Cinema, edited by Gregory Battcock, 83–102. New York: E. P. Dutton, 1967. Nowell-Smith, Geoffrey. Making Waves: New Cinemas of the 1960s. London: Bloomsbury, 2013. Rabinovitz, Lauren. Points of Resistance: Women, Power, and Politics in the New York Avant-garde Cinema, 1943-71. 2nd ed. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2003. Robé, Chris. Breaking the Spell: A History of Anarchist Filmmakers, Videotape Guerrillas, and Digital Ninjas. Oakland: PM Press, 2017. Rodowick, D. N. The Crisis of Political Modernism: Criticism and Ideology in Contemporary Film Theory. 2nd ed. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994. Ross, Kristin. May ’68 and Its Afterlives. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002. Suarez, Juan A. Bike Boys, Drag Queens, and Superstars: Avant-Garde, Mass Culture, and Gay Identities in the 1960s Underground Cinema. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996. Wollen, Peter. “Godard and Counter-Cinema: Vent D’est.” In Readings and Writings: Semiotic Counter-Strategies, 79–91. London: Verso, 1982. THE SIXTIES 155 David Fresko Rutgers University, New Brunswick, NJ, USA Df529@rutgers.edu © 2020 Informa UK Limited, trading as Taylor & Francis Group https://doi.org/10.1080/17541328.2020.1835378