Film: The Living Record of Our Memory

Films live in our memories. They live in our hearts. But they don't necessarily live for very long in our archives.

We think of cinema as a fixed, unchanging, undying phenomenon. They delighted us, horrified us, titillated or amused us. This spectacular documentary teaches us that those memorable pictures might as well be stored on an Etch-a-Sketch.

In it's own way, Film, the Living Record of Our Memory, is an adventure story. As the world blunders along, these hardy souls spend their lives battling the inevitable decline of films, one frame at a time.

I've visited major archives and labs. I have strolled through major cold-storage aisles loaded with precious cinematic artifacts. I understand now that I simply had the illusion that I understood the battle for preservation. After seeing Film, the Live Record of Our Memory, I finally understand what I don't know.

Whatever you're doing, stop. Go see this documentary right now.

Film has become so pervasive in our society that we tend to take it for granted. From big screen blockbusters to intimate arthouse dramas and documentaries to home movies, we see these cinematic records of us and our world virtually everywhere we look. It's a phenomenon that's present globally, too, one that spans all seven continents. And, because these images have been committed to a fixed medium, we tend to assume that these records will be with us permanently. But will they? As writer-director Inés Toharia Terán's compelling new documentary reveals, that's not an assumption we should make - indeed, far from it. This excellent examination of film preservation efforts is an eye-opening revelation, showing us just how much of film history has been lost through deterioration, censorship, careless management and even willful destruction - an estimated 80% of all silent films ever made and roughly 50% of those created since the invention of talkies. The documentary explores the reasons behind these tragedies, as well as the efforts that have been made to save and/or restore pictures that could have easily - or still might possibly - become lost without concerted initiatives to protect them. Terán's work is particularly impressive from the standpoint of comprehensiveness, showing the impact that this effort has had on film collections from around the around, from all ages past and from all genres, including not only entertainment offerings but also documentary footage and even those designed to capture cherished personal memories. Through interviews with leading directors, archivists, restoration professionals and photographic industry experts, viewers gain an insightful new appreciation for why these celluloid records matter to us and why it's important to make the effort to save them from neglect before they're gone forever. Admittedly, some may find this offering a little overlong, but, in my view, better more than less when it comes to a showcase aimed at purposely illustrating the need to preserve these precious and otherwise-irretrievable materials. And, to its credit, the film does a fine job of keeping its narrative from becoming too technical, a noteworthy accomplishment for a subject that could easily become overly burdened by indecipherable jargon. "Film" is must-see viewing for anyone who loves movies and passionately desires to see as many of them curated as possible, making their continued existence available to posterity as a genuine living record of our memory.

Well worth a watch, though they had to do that scare tactic of opening up a film can full of brown dust or black goo or white mold every two minutes. Chances are those films were boring anyway - most are. Archivists don't always make value judgements like that. I watched a "rediscovered" silent film, The Life Story of David Lloyd George awhile ago - it should have stayed lost.

The more pressing question is what are we doing to preserve our precious film actors? Remember Emily Watson? Cute star of films from the 90s like Breaking the Waves and Trixie? Now rather gaunt and careworn. Why aren't we putting her in a climate-controlled, dark storage facility? Before she crumbles into dust! That would be money well spent.

Why bother with film preservation? Who are the people who do the work? How do they do it? This ambitious and successful feature about the archivists, the preservationists, and the restorers answers those questions.

It begins with the nuts, like Henri Langlois and Iris Barry, collectors convinced that there's something there, and moves towards the current generation, who seem to view film like people; one gestures towards the camera negatives of GONE WITH THE WIND and notes that everyone involved in the production is now dead, but the negative was on the same sound stage as Clark Gable. Then it's on to the job of saving and preserving and restoring, and why, and what comes next.

Frankly, given the transitory nature of all the media they talk about, I think they should go back to paper prints for the archival copies, on acid-free paper. They're pulling high-definition film prints off paper prints from 1905, and with good paper, you're talking about half a millennium easily. As compared to 50 for nitrate, and five for digital.

In any case, this is a heartfelt and compelling documentary about its subject. It certainly appealed to my taste for early cinema.

Throughout film history, mistakes have had to be made so that people can learn from them. Unfortunately, some were so big they altered the entire course of history as far as movies are concerned. This extensively researched and well assembled production that was made very recently shows the importance of film preservation and how films need to be kept in storage for future generations, since this wasn't always the case. It's estimated that around 80 percent of all silent movies to ever exist are gone for good, which for someone like me, is a shocking figure. Nitrate film, which is what they used for movies until the 50s, was very easily combustible and countless works of art were utterly reduced to cinders over the decades due to improper storage protocols, accidents, or other things. Of course, nobody knows how crucial attempting to save films is better than directors. People like Martin Scorcese have established whole organizations dedicated to preserving and restoring rare movies thought to be lost so that they can be enjoyed by a new legion of fans. Surprisingly, even the makers of movies themselves had doubts regarding the longevity of the things they created back in cinema's early days. Countless movies were destroyed or thrown in the depths of the sea because the mindset at the time was "this type of entertainment isn't meant to last forever." Even once it became clear films needed to be taken care of, people wanting to head in this direction faced adversity from film studios who said it wasn't worth doing, and the government, who thought storing large amounts of flammable nitrate was a disaster waiting to happen. The film also goes over how no matter what country you're from, film preservation is a concern to all cultures, from Africa to Japan and everywhere in between, because movies reflect a society's culture and people see it as their heritage. If you care about your heritage (and there's no reason not to) you should be able to see why keeping track of films is imperative. Towards the end, they start talking about how puzzleingly, the newer the technology for film preservation, the faster it degrades. Hard drives in open air degrade in about 5 years, and discs last a pathetic 2 years. In an attempt to circumvent this, some have proposed storing film on DNA, which sounds like a joke but they are 100% serious. The internet has also been a goldmine for films thought to be considered lost, as some of them have even been uploaded to sites like Youtube or Wayback Machine, even though the former is not an archive. This presentation is really well done. Because many people in it don't speak English, the subtitles got a little annoying at times, and it's not the type of thing to watch if you don't feel like reading, but it covers an interesting subject that should be discussed more because of its complexity. Movies such as Lawrence of Arabia have about 200 thousand frames in them, and to restore it, people had to touch on every single frame of the film, one by one. I can't possibly fathom how long this took. It's great that we have people like this who are so dedicated to such a frustrating line of work. To them, no matter how repetitive it seems, it is worth it, and the rest of the cinema world expresses gratitude for their achievements.