When, a semester or two ago, my department chair asked me to
teach the local version of the nowadays-pervasive “popular culture” course, I
consented with some mild misgivings and, as I like to do, took a mostly
historical approach to course-content. I have no investment in contemporary
popular culture, the wretchedness of it striking me as consummate. My students,
for their part, being morbidly, continuously immersed in contemporary popular
culture, require no one, really, to acquaint them with it. At least they
require no one to tutor them in it directly, since
it regrettably is their ubiquitous and hortatory guide
and cue-giver for all facets of life. But one might apprise them about the
insipidity of existing mass-entertainment indirectly by putting it in contrast
with the popular entertainments of the past, including the classic films that
most of them have never seen and, more importantly, would never seek out on
their own. One film that I showed to students was the Errol Flynn vehicle
The
Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), directed
by Michael Curtiz. Another one, not so well known as
Robin Hood, was the Roger Livesey/Wendy Hiller vehicle
I
Know Where I’m Going (1945), directed by
Michael Powell (1905-1990).
In respect of The Adventures of Robin Hood, I have remarked in an article [here], for MediaHope, how one of the strongest recommending features of
Curtiz’s superbly mounted medieval epic is that, at its heart, the film tells a
moving conversion story – actually a pair of them, Marian’s and Robin’s, that
the screenwriters skillfully intertwine. In the same article I reiterated
critic René Girard’s argument that all effective narrative turns on plausible
conversion and that reading itself is a type of conversion experience. If
Girard’s point were valid for written narrative then why would it not likewise
be so for film? Like Curtiz’s Robin Hood, Powell’s I Know Where I’m Going tells a conversion story, brilliantly, and uses it to make a profound
filmic critique of the crassness that pervades modern life. I should add that
in neither instance is it a case of religious conversion but rather of something
subtler.