Citizen Spielberg
The public has usually voted “yes” to Steven Spielberg but critics—and academics more so—have registered grave doubts. He’s been accused—along with sometime collaborator George Lucas—of derailing the “New Hollywood” of provocative filmmaking (Midnight Cowboy, Chinatown), of birthing the era of summer blockbusters (Jaws) and infantilizing not only the movies but American (and world?) culture.
Lester B. Friedman files his dissenting, minority report in Citizen Spielberg. In the introduction to the new edition, Friedman writes, “No other director, except perhaps Martin Scorsese, has woven so many striking images so thoroughly into the fabric of our lives.” He wrote the first edition of Citizen Spielberg (2006) to give his students at Hobart and William Smith material on the director at a time when academic attention was limited to put-downs (“the P.T. Barnum of cinema”). Since then, “I have been gratified to observe the expansion of scholarly work exploring various aspects of his films,” acknowledging Spielberg “as a filmmaker deserving of extensive scholarly analysis,” he writes.
An open-minded examination of Spielberg’s filmography discloses truth in Friedman’s case for the director. While always wanting to sell tickets, Spielberg was also spinning meaningful stories. Popularity shouldn’t be the antonym of profundity, even if it often seems that the bigger something gets, the worse it becomes.
Friedman reprises the familiar recognition of Spielberg’s main themes and characters—his cinematic quest to repair fractured families and his boy-men (men-boy?) protagonists. However, Friedman also unpacks Spielberg’s complicated relationship with technology. Jurassic Park was enabled by cutting edge technology yet issues a stern warning against mindless techno-optimism. Ready Player One delves into virtual reality only to critique its dangers. Friedman puts it brilliantly: “Spielberg clearly understands that the siren song of popular culture offers enticing diversion from the grimness of daily existence … but an addiction to its delights can shipwreck a person on life’s rocky shores.”
Friedman disputes careless comparisons of Spielberg and Lucas, contrasting Spielberg’s ongoing search for new topics and new worlds with Lucas’ willingness to stay put in a galaxy far, far away. Both directors are indebted to the B movie serials of the 1930s and ‘40s and work within genre conventions, yet Friedman identifies Spielberg’s willingness to slyly subvert audience expectations.
I wonder if Friedman isn’t stretching the evidence when he places Spielberg, in Raiders of the Lost Ark, “squarely in the tradition of artists who sought to highlight the sublime in the everyday, the sense of wonder and awe amid the dross of common experiences.” Friedman claims Indiana Jones as something more than an American jingo under a slouch hat. Perhaps I should have another look?
