A Sudden Flicker of Light: Exploring Film's Impact

 A Sudden Flicker of Light: A Revisionist History of Movies by David Thomson 

A Sudden Flicker of Light book cover

Author and film critic David Thomson

Big thanks to Simon & Schuster and NetGalley for allowing me to preview David Thomson’s provocative and expansive A Sudden Flicker of Light: A Revisionist History of Movies. I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect with this book. While I wasn’t familiar with Thomson’s writing, I’ve learned that he is one of the foremost film critics, authoring over 40 books in a career spanning nearly 60 years. He knows his stuff, and this book is touted as the culmination of all of his knowledge and thoughts about film, both celebrating and critiquing not just the artistry and magic of filmmaking, but also the commerce and industry of Hollywood and the silver screen. However, what I found most interesting was not just examining the trends and history of film, but rather examining how film has influenced individuals and society, and how the kind of imaginary pretense of stories on the screen has ended up influencing people’s expectations and understandings of the world around us. A Sudden Flicker of Light ends up being a fascinating study of the role of popular media on our own ideas and expectations about the world, which challenged my own thinking about my relationship to films, media, and others. I ended up enjoying this book, not only for Thomson’s unique, digressive style that seems to transition from one idea or film to another like a jump cut, establishing an implicit relationship, but also because Thomson’s ideas and critiques about the influence of film and popular media had me questioning and thinking more and more about why we watch films and what impact this has on us. It’s a fascinating look at the history of film, which as the book’s subtitled proclaims, challenges popular notions of films by frequently looking at influential factors, context, trends, and historical events that have influenced not just movie scripts and productions but also viewership and ticket sales.

Although Thomson’s book follows a somewhat historical progression of films, he starts the book focusing on cinematographer and director Haskell Wexler, who is often cited as one of the best cinematographers, but who was also fired from two award winning films in the 70s (The Conversation and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest). I wasn’t exactly sure what this brief biography had to do with the rest of the book, but after finishing I can see a few themes emerge from Wexler’s career, especially as he was working with some of the directors who helped shift the Hollywood machine from entertainment to art, revising the ways that we consumed films and movies. As Thomson explains, Wexler was asking a lot of questions, sometimes pulling the actors from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest aside to question the tone of the film, asking whether Milos Foreman was trying to elicit more comedy from a film that could possibly serve as a serious critique of society. This kind of conflict or dichotomy between artistry and themes in films and the need for commerce and audience approval is one of the oppositions that Thomson pursues and analyzes throughout the book. It’s fascinating to think about how Cuckoo’s Nest, an Oscar winner and beloved classic, may have turned out differently if it had sought to lessen the humor and been more serious or morose. Thomson raises some other examples, most notably the ending of Chinatown, which was rewritten to be dourer, which ended up subverting the audiences’ expectations for a happy ending. He also acknowledges the kind of ambiguous ending of Adolescence as another way that audiences are left with questions about the motivation, yet still can remain riveted to the screen based on the artistry of the acting, direction, and relevance of the plot. The discussion of Adolescence and Netflix’s influence on our viewing is also compelling to think about how the approach to home viewing and engaging longer form television has shaped our own consumption of films and movies.

I loved learning more about the history of cinema, and Thomson’s own reflections about how cinema has evolved over time. There’s a lot to learn about, and in particular, the chapter “Like Lightning” that deals with The Birth of a Nation, the first film to be screened at the White House, is fascinating, especially in its demonstration of how film has the power to alter the popular understanding of history and shape or reinforce personal beliefs, biases, and stereotypes. I found this chapter particularly relevant based on the ways that images, video, and other forms of media are often presented to win hearts and minds and challenge perceptions about the nature of the world. Rather than documenting a kind of truth or reflecting historical accuracy, Thomson explores the ways in which film manipulates and alters our emotions and ideas, much the same way that say videos shared of boat attacks or bombings are now shared on social media to drum up support for violent, illegal policies and unpopular attacks on other nations. In fact, Thomson’s last chapter, titled “Quiet, Piggy” raises some important observations and questions about the ways in which President Trump, a big fan of Sunset Boulevard and Gone With the Wind, two other films Thomson analyzes and critiques, has more or less become an actor in his own film, playing a kind of trope and using other motifs like violence, sex, and villainy to sell his film. It’s a fascinating deconstruction that questions how our viewership and voyeurism has shifted from watching what plays out on the screen as a kind of escapism and fantasy to actually enacting the fantasy in real life.

Thomson’s viewership and scholarship is nearly unlimited, but he seems to know a lot about film noir, as one of the chapters significantly focuses on noir. Other chapters focus on other film trends, but sometimes the chapters aren’t completely historical or thematic, and his style moves around a bit. At first, I found these transitions a little hard to follow, but as the book progressed, I appreciated his thinking and linking more and more. At times, Thomson has a kind of conversational style where it’s almost as if he’s sitting in a room sharing all of his ideas and observations that have built up over years of viewership with the reader. At other times, he makes humorous asides and suggestions about films, actors, directors, and themes. I appreciated how critical he was of the need to sustain a commercial audience, and how popular tastes and the Hays Code influenced the earlier film industry. Other chapters on Orson Welles’ brilliance are also fascinating to read to really understand how Citizen Kane both established and in some ways limited Welles’ career. Thomson goes on to examine certain trends in films that emerged in the 1930s throughout the 1970s, noting how world events like the Great Depression, World War II, and the Cold War influenced film themes and tropes, including villains, heroes, the roles of women, and the need for sex and violence in films, even if these ideas are implied more than explicitly stated or displayed. Again, through his insight, Thomson explores how films are more of a window facing inwards, in our own psyches and human nature, rather than a mirror reflecting reality, and often giving us what we may desire or want rather than showing us an objective truth.

A Sudden Flicker of Light is a fascinating read; one that will challenge readers’ understandings and thoughts about film and popular media and how it shapes our own understanding to the world. It’s a book I will need to revisit since there are so many different ideas, but it’s also an important book to consider due to how Thomson raises important questions about our own viewership (or voyeurism) and how the trends and themes films explore have not only altered us on an individual level, but also how they have shifted ideas, attitudes, and beliefs in society. I loved this book and highly recommend it! 

Documenting a King: King Kong: The History of a Movie Icon by Ray Morton

 King Kong: The History of a Movie Icon 

by Ray Morton

King Kong: The History of a Movie Icon book cover

Author and Kong enthusiast Ray Morton

Gigantic thanks to Bloomsbury Academic and NetGalley for allowing me to preview an advanced copy of Ray Morton’s comprehensive and ginormous detailed history of King Kong titled King Kong: The History of a Movie Icon. This is actually a revised and update edition of the book he initially published 20 years ago as the 3^rd version of King Kong, Peter Jackson’s adaptation, was released. This book includes additional research and information about the three main versions of King Kong from 1933, 1976, and 2005, as well as other offshoots including Son of Kong, the official sequel, and the Toho iterations where Kong battles Godzilla. In addition, Morton provides detailed information about the recent Mosterverse that includes Kong: Skull Island (2017), Godzilla vs. Kong (2021), and Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire (2024). He ends the book with some other appearances of Kong in comics, books, television, cartoons, and movies, including proposed films that never made it to the big screen. As someone who loves monster movies, especially the grand spectacle of giant monsters, this book was a great read. Furthermore, as someone who has grown to love the King Kong story, studying the film in college for some of the possible subtextual readings that its creator rejected, I also found that this book was a fascinating read, and I appreciated Morton’s detailed and loving research into the creation of the main Kong films from inception, to production, to the box office. It’s not only fascinating to learn that the story of a giant ape has been appealing to audiences for nearly 100 years, but also to see how these films have helped to drive innovative practices in film and special effects.

Morton spends the most time detailing the three Kong movies, and these chapters delve into all aspects of the film. It was fascinating to learn about how the first film script changed over time. I wasn’t aware that so many writers were involved in crafting the script, and that there was also a novelization that came out before the film, but also ended up out of copyright and in the public domain, allowing others to develop stories based on the novel rather than the movie. Nevertheless, Morton provides two storylines to allow readers to see how the script changed after subsequent drafts. He also provides a detailed chronology of the film’s production, with a focus on how the special effects were implemented for this film. Although it wasn’t the first film to use stop motion animation, expertly done by Willis O’Brien and Marcel Delgado among others, the film implemented it to such a degree that it changed special effects. I also loved reading about the challenges with filming the 1976 version of King Kong, which attempted to create a giant robotic Kong, but ultimately used this version more for promotion than actually in the screen. I also learned that Rick Baker played Kong in most of the scenes and reportedly had a difficult time working with the other special effects artist Carlo Rambaldi, who had previously worked on other Dino De Laurentiis films. Ever since seeing American Werewolf in London, I’ve been a huge Rick Baker fan, so it was surprising to learn more about his role and lack of credits in this film.

The book contains a lot of information about various Kong related projects, including a 1986 film, King Kong Lives, that I kind of remember. I’m sure that I saw it at some point, but as Morton details, the film was planned during the De Laurentiis Studio’s decline and string of failed films, so the budget kept getting slashed, which ultimately had an impact on the story and effects. It’s ultimately a forgotten film, but this chapter does detail how the studio system works along with the challenges that producers and effects artists experience when trying to make the unreal appear in films. The chapter about Peter Jackson’s version was incredibly fascinating since it provides background in Jackson’s career along with his development of the Kong project, which started before Lord of the Rings, but ultimately was made after LOTR (and probably would not have been made without the success of that franchise). I learned so much from this chapter, but I was most enthralled with the various technology and effects that Jackson and his team employed to create this version of Kong along with a realistic recreation of 1930s NYC. Morton does a great job explaining the process of how digital effects work. Like the other versions of King Kong presented in the book, Morton also details the various scenes and technology employed to make the effects appear realistic, which was also fascinating to read, although it is more of a reference and explanation than anything else. Nevertheless, I feel like I have a better understanding of the various uses of green and blue screen technology, among other technologies that have developed from 1976 to the 2005 version of Kong.

I also enjoyed reading about the Monsterverse films, and while Morton doesn’t hold them in as high regard as the other Kong films, I generally like them. As he notes, these are mostly fun films without much serious plot, and in many ways, Morton explores how Kong has developed an alternative backstory to his life on Skull Island, becoming an orphan as other creatures attacked and killed his parents, and eventually discovering a land in the hollow earth where other giant apes (and other creatures) live and battle. Furthermore, Morton traces the challenges that the production teams have in accessing the rights to these monsters, creating story lines where they meet, collaborate or battle, and exploring how technology was used to create their environments and likenesses. I really enjoyed learning more about how the directors and designers looked to other films, including the various versions of King Kong, for inspiration. It’s really cool to see how these more recent films both honor the legacy of Kong, yet also want to try something different or find inspiration from other films and styles.

This book is truly a great reference and resource for anyone who is deeply interested in Kong movies or monster movies in general. My favorite parts of the book were learning more about Rick Baker’s background in special effects and seeing how his work on films like The Exorcist, It’s Alive, and with John Landis eventually led him to work on the 1976 version of Kong. Furthermore, even though King Kong Lives was a failure, the film came out around the time that Evil Dead II, Manhunter, and Blue Velvet were also produced by the De Laurentiis Group (I think that Dune was also around this time too). It shows that De Laurentiis did have an important role in producing some important films, even if the film industry relies on intellectual property and sequels. In fact, this is a point that Morton raises when discussing Legendary Pictures and how financing shifted from studios to corporations and investment firms. Again, Morton helps to highlight much about the film industry and how Kong both represented and drove trends and changes in genres and styles. I was also surprised to learn that Peter Jackson apparently created a film idea for the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise in the late 80s, which I can only imagine what that might have been. I also loved learning about where the newer Kong movies were filmed. I recently travelled to Kualoa Ranch, where some of Skull Island was filmed. I didn’t realize it at the time since most of the focus was on Jurassic Park, but I could see some of the distinct spots after reading through Morton’s indications of the filming locations. Although the book has so much detail and information about all of the Kong movies, it does feel repetitive at times, especially early on when the chapters detail the plotlines and then detail the filming process, and then also details the special effects. I loved reading about how these effects happened, and I think the process was especially fascinating or all 3 of the Kong movies, but I found myself less interested in some of the lesser Kong movies like Son of Kong and King Kong Lives. If anything, including all of these examples helps to highlight the vast differences in quality and innovation among the different productions. Overall, though, this was a really entertaining and enlightening book, and I’m so glad that Morton has not only shared his love of Kong with the world, but has also populated the book with so many images and photos from his own Kong collection, sharing some of the unique merchandise that was used to promote the majesty and regality of Kong. Highly recommended book!