100 Books Like The New American War Film

I love this book by the late and much-honored Professor of Early Modern European history for its clarity, concision, elegance of expression, and boldness of interpretation.

It focuses on five outstanding films about slavery beginning as early as the 73-71 BC revolt of soldiers against ancient Rome led by the famed gladiator Spartacus and ending with the United States, Cuba, and other Caribbean countries in the late 19th century.

The author even insists, in a chapter on the film made from Toni Morrison’s ghost story novel, Beloved, that it is possible that some written historical fiction can teach us much about the past as traditional scholarly works of history.

When I first read this book, the only one on my list to deal exclusively with documentary film, I was knocked out by the brilliance of the author in locating,  describing, and naming a new genre of historical film, which he calls the Microhistorical. The name is chosen as a parallel to a written genre with the same name that some historians have been writing in the last fifty years.

Such films are unique in both their sources and subject matter. Based almost exclusively on the lives of ordinary people or small forgotten incidents, the sources for such films rely largely on home movies; films never meant to be shown to the public. Remarkably, these microstudies contain important insights into the public’s beliefs about and reactions to the social conditions and movements of the past.

I love this book for two special reasons: it was written by a scholar who doubles as a film director and thus understands both media from the inside and it is the first work to elaborate on the meaning of “historiophoty,” a word coined years ago by the famed historian, Hayden White, that means “the representation of history and our thought about it in visual images.” 

In clear and compelling prose, Nelson undertakes the enormous task of consolidating several decades of scholarship in diverse fields (history, film, philosophy) to create five principles that allow you and I to think more clearly about the real contributions of historical films. Her work allows you to better understand the explicit and implicit meanings of historical films.

Of the many books that focus on the historical films of an individual country or historical period, this is by far the most interesting and powerful. It deals with how the directors of the New German Cinema of the Seventies devised new visual and narrative strategies to come to terms with the shameful history of Hitler’s regime.

The book eschews the usual focus on guilt and atonement in favor of personal memory and a yearning for national identity. Focusing on a description of several important works–including Hitler: A Film from Germany, The Patriot, and The Marriage of Maria Braun–Kaes makes a strong case that such films both depicted and helped to promote a major shift in German attitudes toward their country’s past. 

If you’re interested in movies made in Hollywood during World War II and about the war, this reference book is for you.

It was invaluable as we were compiling what movies to use for our own book. There are intelligent overviews of movies by topic, such as the crisis abroad, spies, fascism, humor, and postwar planning.

What is even more valuable is the filmography, which lists the movies made by year, with the genre, setting, themes, studio, and how relevant it is to the war.

An extraordinary tale of a chokingly claustrophobic household in historical China, in which four women (wives and concubines) jealously vie for attention and privilege. As the stakes grow higher, so do the dangers inherent in their choices. Made into the film Raise the Red Lantern by Zhang Yimou, for me, this is the gold standard on this theme.

“I’m still not certain you really are a woman?” Whenever Valerie has her period she is transported to a magical if sinister otherworld (yes, this novel was written by a man). A surreal, Freudian, East European coming-of-age fairytale that lies somewhere between Alice In Wonderland and a gothic pastiche. In the 70s it was also adapted into a film that apparently influenced Angela Carter. Not unjustifiably, the teenage experience is portrayed as a disorientating, eroticized nightmare from which Valerie must use all her wiles to escape, fending off vampiric family members after her inheritance and hypocritical authority figures keen to simultaneously sexualize her and burn her as a witch. At least she owns a set of magic earrings. “I’m acting like a sleepwalker. Is it all a dream?”

So, after the first things, you need some actual instruction, and the great Russian filmmaker lays it all out here. The book is his memoir about filmmaking, but it’s really about art making, written as large or small as you can imagine. I wrote a review by request a few years ago.

Allow the tools he discusses here to free you from the oppression of lazy filmmaking, as well as your own timidity and fear. It works. Ask me how I know.

This book initiated my interest in narrative film theory back in my graduate school days. It became a crucial source for my dissertation.

Bordwell writes about popular films but with a highly analytical eye. All his books are worth reading for those who want intelligent, in-depth discussion, not just stories about Hollywood culture. 

I recommend this book to anyone who has ever seen a female character onscreen (does that make all of us?!).

As a cisgender male, I grew up with a pretty myopic point of view and was conditioned to look to (white) males onscreen for key pieces of information or heroism.

This book helped me appreciate why my perspective was slanted and shaped this way – Karen Hollinger’s work has sensitized me to the idea that there is always more than one perspective to be mindful of when watching a movie.