Filmanalyse - Gabriele Jutz
Filmanalyse - Gabriele Jutz
Filmanalyse - Gabriele Jutz
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of acolytes of the past. It is an experience that cannot be reproduced - because no<br />
nitrate film stock is being produced today - and yet the projection of nitrate prints<br />
is the conveyor of a distinctive aesthetic visual experience. So much, then, for all<br />
our attempts at preserving the heritage of the first decades of cinema through<br />
acetate, polyester, and non-photographic media. The real experience is all there, in<br />
those odorous prints, and we are the last generation that may be able to enjoy it!<br />
Nobody else will be allowed to do that. We have the moral responsibility to absorb<br />
as much as possible of these images and these smells, and explain what they meant<br />
to a posterity who otherwise may have no idea of why we cared so much about<br />
their survival and transmission to the future.<br />
In other words, we ought to turn what we have learned from this problem (the<br />
gradual disappearance of nitrate and the acknowledged impossibility of<br />
reproducing its "epiphany") into an opportunity. We can still show acetate and<br />
polyester prints. In other words, we can still show cinema. As Peter Kubelka has<br />
spent years describing in his enlightening and provocative lectures, we can bring to<br />
new generations of viewers what we have frequently failed to explain so far - the<br />
uniqueness of the cinematic experience. The cause of nitrate may be lost, although<br />
it is still a beautiful one to struggle for. The cause of cinema as a projected<br />
intermittent image can still be fought, and there is still a reason to fight it. Not in<br />
opposition to the electronic image, not as a reactionary answer to the digital age,<br />
but because photo-mechanical cinema has its own, specific aura. Most important of<br />
all, I repeat, it is not too late.<br />
And it is still not yet too late to smell nitrate. If I ever have a hand in the raising of<br />
kids, I will bring them to a conservation centre as soon as they turn 14, in the hope<br />
they will understand that the art of seeing involves the willingness to take some<br />
risks. There is something depressingly safe, condom-like, in the digital image, and<br />
as much as I respect it and realise its creative potential, I cannot really feel anything<br />
when I experience it. Cinema is never safe. Cinema is dangerous. That is why I like<br />
it so much, and why I am glad I was born early enough to smell it.