Examples of Narrative Analysis

This is an exercise page, with examples of how narrative analysis using Aristotle’s elements and other methods might be applied to specific cases. This might be a good page to use for classroom assignments. Our first example, below, uses a radio play (which, not coincidentally, was written by the author of these pages). You should use this page in conjunction with Aristotle’s Six Elements of Drama.


Are you a high school or university student who has been assigned to research this topic? Do you like science fiction? If so, you may wish to try the video below as a way to experience how Aristotle’s elements are combined in a short science-fiction radio play. Because it is a radio play, rather than a stage play or film, it does not have, to any great degree, what Aristotle calls “Spectacle.” It does have all the other elements used in ways that can make an Aristotlean analysis of it relatively easy.  The sample questions below may be used in a classroom exercise or for self-directed study.

If you just want the audio, go to where you can select your favorite podcast player (Apple, Spotify, Google).


  1. Choose one moment in the play and describe how the MELODY (music) influences the mood or message of that moment. Use the YouTube (Watch on YouTube) button at the bottom of the screen image above to go the YouTube page so you can see the titles of each piece in the music credits. There are 4 musical selections used, shown in the order of use in the play.
  2. According to Aristotle, characters may enunciate “some universal proposition” that reflects on THOUGHT, one of the three most important elements in drama. What important, thought-worthy ideas or propositions do some of the characters put forward? Describe at least one instance where a character expresses an important thought — one with broad application or intellectual significance.
  3. What kind of person is each main CHARACTER? What virtues or flaws does he or she have? Note that one of the characters describes some of his own flaws. You might use Aristotle’s virtues and vices as guidelines.

Recent Best Films

Pages related to this topic:
Recent Best Films
200+ Great Films
Narrative Structures in Films: A Mindmap
Thomas Mann on film: Text from “The Magic Mountain”
Mistakes in Film Criticism
Aristotle’s Six Elements of Drama

BEST OF 2019
Finally, a return to actual adult films. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is probably the best film this year (10 Academy Award Nominations). Another film for mature, thinking and feeling adults (with a creative use of models and some CGI): A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (1 Nomination). And Richard Jewel (1 Nomination) is a moving story of a contemporary tragedy forged by irresponsible media and misguided officials — one of the best films of the year.

NOTE: The Irishman is not, technically something I would normally consider to be part of the general topic Films and Popular Culture, to which these pages are dedicated, because it was not released as a “Film”, i.e. a vehicle of mass entertainment in movie theaters. The theater experience is quite different from other forms of presentation, as described in the discussion of Thomas Mann’s text (link above). But it appears that The Irishman got about 26 million viewers while Once Upon a Time in Hollywood grossed about $140,000,000 and at $10 per ticket that translates to 14 million viewers. This counts as “mass” entertainment. Furthermore, The Irishman has all the other elements of popular culture including extremely well-known stars, one of the best directors of all time, and many other quality production values that resulted in 11 Nominations. (But without a best actor nomination it is hard to understand this as an overall quality index.)

Of the very popular movie theater films this year, with $858 B in box office, Avengers: End Game was the best overall, but I am not going to comment on it here.

BEST OF 2018
A good film with a great deal of CGI, but also good themes and thought: Black Panther.

BEST OF 2015-2017
Hollywood and popular culture is in a rut: recycling Marvel heroes reflects in an ever diminishing pool of stories that will be found inoffensive to mass audiences. One is hard-pressed to find recent films of significance. However, there were some films of note: Mad Max, Inside Out, The Martian, and Irrational Man and Concussion were among the best films of 2015.

An example of Hollywood’s self-absorption and indifference to actual performance art is awarding DiCaprio an Oscar for acting his role in The Revenant. In terms of acting craft, Will Smith in Concussion was far superior.

Another example: Other than trying to resurrect the artistic and intellectual achievement of Blade Runner, one wonders what is the justification for spending time and energy to produce the overwrought, lugubrious Blade Runner 2049? At two hours and forty-four minutes running time, perhaps half of that with actual dialogue, it is a small wonder that the film has not fared well at the box office. Excellent critic A. O. Scott from the New York Times says: “Daring in its own right, this broodingly sumptuous saga explores the primacy of feelings, the nature of memories and the essence of being human.” Perhaps…but one can hardly say this is the most moving or insightful treatment of such themes.

As we progress through this recent period of stagnation a significant question remains: When, if ever, will audiences tire of CGI-dependent storylines? Are we entering an age of “alternate realities only”? If so, why?

BEST OF 2014
Academy Award Nominations for Best Picture (2014) and any appropriate comments:
American Sniper (Unlikely. Not best film, but Best Actor probable.)
The Grand Budapest Hotel (No way!)
The Imitation Game (Way! See prediction about Cumberbatch below.)
Selma (Way! Hollywood’s prejudice for political causes rather than the greatness of the film may put this at the top.)
The Theory of Everything

Truth and Fact in 2014: With 50% of Best Picture Nominations as historical dramas, 2014 is the year of “true” stories brought to the screen. The notion of “true” presents a dilemma for postmodernist approaches to narrative — a problem that cannot be detailed here. Suffice it to say that anyone wishing to go to contemporary films to be educated on the “facts” of history will be disappointed and misdirected. Moreover, viewers will sometimes have to suffer through pointless and diminishing politically correct “codas” (e.g., captions and/or inappropriate music) attached to the ends of these films. Nevertheless, from the point of view of the study of popular culture, there are important films to see this year.

Most disappointing film of 2014: The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies. No need to see this film except to experience that audiences will pay to see something essentially empty when expectations are high and the “brand” is “good.”

Funniest 5 Minutes in 2014: First 5 minutes of Penguins of Madagascar.

American Sniper (2014). For any film “based on true events,” one needs a scorecard upon entering the theater these days. Perhaps a full vetting of all “factual” information presented in the film would do the trick. Fortunately, this film was vetted by the family. At least in terms of capturing the personality and many of the major events in the career of this soldier, principal members of the family (including the hero’s wife) have publicly stated that the film is accurate. This is reason enough to see the film. Necessary viewing for 2014.

Selma (2014). Probably the best film of 2014. While pure fiction dramatically expresses general truths about the human condition, reconstituted historical dramas express a portion of these truths as we would have liked them to be. This film is no exception to this general rule. Fortunately, these two elements of popular film (general and historical truth) meet in one of the most powerful narrative segments in any recent film: the death Jamie Lee Jackson. One scene in this segment, the meeting between King and Jamie Lee Jackson’s father at the city morgue, is among the finest moments of intimate film making in recent years. The film should be seen for this scene alone. Many other scenes in the film are much inferior, including odd and distracting camera angles. Auteurs and DP’s will study these other scenes for lessons about what not to do with a camera. Another extraordinary aspect of the film is that it demonstrates how much the borderline for inclusion of sexual truth in films has moved since the ’60s. Under no circumstances would the information about King’s extramarital encounters have been included in a film meant to honor his legacy in any film of the prior to the 1990s (Clinton changed all that). Best use of a Biblical reference in 2014: Selma jail scene, Matthew 6:25.

The Imitation Game. The smartest film of 2014. This film will get Benedict Cumberbatch an Academy Award nomination, although Alex Lawther (Young Alan Turing) may well be the best actor on the screen and does the best job since DiCaprio’s 1993 performance of portraying a young man with emotional/intellectual problems. You should know what is basically real and what is not real before going, since you can’t trust Hollywood when it releases films “based” on true events. The girlfriend is basically real and he (Turing) was really engaged to her (Joan Clarke). But leave it at that. Don’t investigate too much before going to see it, or you will spoil the story! Overall, a great lesson in utilitarianism, which the Brits also invented in addition to modern computer architecture. Best line: “You are not God, Alan. You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies.” See the film for Turing’s response.

Exodus: Gods and Kings (2014). God, as a petulant 12-year old, meets delusional man with an attitude. It’s true that in the Old Testament Moses actually argues with God and questions His decisions, but this film takes that idea to a whole new level. Best moment: Death of Pharaoh’s son, enhanced by the sudden silence of the overbearing score. Production values: Filmed through a glass darkly, the entire film has the aura of cheap, backyard production filmed on old film stock. Optional viewing, but good for a thesis of how thought and theology are being marketed today.

Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part I (2014). A continuation of the best film of 2013, this film also is “one of the few films to self-consciously examine media politics and the construction of character and emotion through action” (see 2013 comments below). The film follows the book faithfully, as the plot takes a new direction in following the heroine’s moral and intellectual development. The problem now is not just to sort out emotional ties but to learn how to engage in psycho-political warfare through media. Much more subtle and deep than the other “teenage angst films of 2014” (listed below) this film addresses the real situation now faced by millennials — especially in the Arab world — who understand what love and freedom should mean, but who are unable to find any viable political routes to it. The credits are followed by a beautifully animated logo that reasserts the reality of the film’s message to totalitarian regimes.

Interstellar (2014). Possible subtitles: “Gruber goes Galactic” or “Timeless Echoes of Hume and Plato.” Hume states: “In general, it may be affirmed, that there is no such passion in human minds, as the love of mankind, merely as such, independent of personal qualities, of services, or of relation to ourself” (Treatise, II, 1). In other words, various forms of self-interest motivate our actions; presuming that any abstractions such as “love of mankind” will motivate people is folly. Plato implies it is necessary for rulers to issue “noble lies” to the general public in circumstances where the truth would be too much for the public to bear. In other words, “Gruber” is a necessary political being. Interstellar deals with both of these ideas about our motives and political truths, as well with many more precise questions: (1)Are human beings multi-dimensional beings who can travel in time as well as space; (2) Are feelings of love, rather than the testimony of the senses or the machinations of reason, a signature of deep knowledge about the nature of reality? Interstellar will surely rank as the most philosophically rich film of 2014, although certainly not the best. Much of the plot and dialogue are more forced than it needs to be, so be prepared for much willing suspension of disbelief. Also be prepared for the mumbled dialogue of Matthew McConaughey, who makes the main character sound like he is only talking to himself most of the time. Great Sci-Fi, such as 2001, Blade Runner, Terminator, GATTACA, or Avatar it’s not, but still a must for 2014.

Fury (2014). A general principle of films is that those set in a “historical” context tell us more about our contemporary consciousness of social/political/moral situations than they do about the actualities of the historical setting in which the action takes place. Fury is no exception to this principle. How should we react to the open brutality of totalitarians who terrorize their own people? Best line: “Ideals are peaceful. History is violent.”

Teenage Angst films of 2014 These are all must-sees for those following the zeitgeist:
The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 1
The Maze Runner

The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (2014). Perfect for the study of cultural themes as reflected in film. Most prominent among the themes — and most importantly in terms of a global audience that includes emerging nations where women continue to be second-class citizens — is the autonomy and life choices of women. It is not unusual to find concise arguments written into great scripts, but this film contains a particularly potent 3-phase formula for expressing a stance for contemporary women: (1) there is such a thing as overprotection of women; (2) women have their own autonomy that must be given both respect and concrete opportunities; and (3) where there is risk (even to life), women themselves should be given the choice to assess and accept that risk. Also included (as so often in recent popular films) is the theme of psychic damage done to young men by absent fathers. Still another aspect of modern life explored in this film: how lack of recognition and the alienation experienced by workers in large corporations can lead to self-destruction and violence. Best Scene/Best Acting: Aunt May (Sally Field) explains to Peter/Spider-Man (Andrew Garfield) why he is her son. Best twist/plot element: sorry, to reveal that would be a huge spoiler! Suffice it to say that apart from the technical/intellectual components of the script noted above, this edition of Spider-Man is thoroughly enjoyable and works on many emotional levels. Recommended.

Noah (2014). Biblical Noah meets Alternate Sci-Fi Universe meets Nietzsche. Contrary to popular belief, the Biblical story of Noah would not make a good film script. For a Hollywood-quality script, one needs a villain, a series of escalating crises, moral dilemmas, a confrontation with evil as personified in the villain, and a resolution showing the success of the hero. Noah has all of these elements, so it is a good film for study as well as for enjoyment. It fulfills the promise of radio ads promoting the film, which describe it as having taken artistic liberties with the Biblical story but in ways that are consistent with Biblical themes and values. Although some critics, and even the director of the film (Daren Aronofsky) have claimed the film identifies Noah as an environmentalist vegetarian, this is certainly not the moral focus of the film. As Plato observed, nothing prevents artistic creators from not understanding their own works at a philosophical level. We should be loath to accept the poet’s interpretation of his own work.

The story apparently does not take place on Earth, at least not at any time within the last 100 million years or so (the daytime sky and the depiction of the global landmass does not correspond to our world) and the story adds a deus ex machina device in the form of sci-fi creatures called “Watchers,” although these may be thought to correspond (very loosely!) to the “giants in the earth” referenced to in Genesis. The moral dilemma is one that Nietzsche knew well: our free will is both a blessing and a curse; it demands that we take full responsibility for our acts and ultimately accept the idea that our will can be coincident with God’s, if not in every respect, at least in the vital respects that correspond with the promise of human flourishing symbolized by the rainbow (the last image of the film). Highly recommended. A great study piece and one that represents contemporary spiritual, theological, and philosophical dilemmas quite well.

The film was banned in the many Islamic countries, ostensibly for “depicting a prophet,” but perhaps also (admittedly, just a guess here) for superimposing the story of Abraham — a vital key to Islamic theology — onto Noah.

Best lines: “A man is not ruled by the heavens but by his will. So I ask you, are you a man? Good. Then you can kill.”


God’s Not Dead (2014). For professional critics of popular culture only. Amateurs will not enjoy this film since they will see nothing but over the top preaching about the beauty of Christianity. Professionals will understand that the film is not about Christianity as much it is about freedom of choice and the fact that humans must cope with totalitarian intellectual repression, loss of love, death, and disease. The story is based on actual court cases where universities have attempted to limit the freedom of speech and association of on-campus Christian groups. If you are a university-level academician, you will have a hard time suspending your disbelief about the initial story premise: a philosophy professor makes signing a declaration that “God is dead” worth 30% of the course. Hopefully, any professor actually caught doing that would be summarily fired. Put that aside, accept the premise, and enjoy the film. The film contains three powerful, emotional subplots that some viewers will find more than make up for any weaknesses in the principal storyline. A good example of the overt politicization of film (as opposed to the more covert, as in The Hunger Games).


Random Comments on the Arts and Popular Culture

Pages related to this topic:
Recent Best Films
200+ Great Films
Narrative Structures in Films: A Mindmap
Thomas Mann on film: Text from “The Magic Mountain”
Mistakes in Film Criticism
Aristotle’s Six Elements of Drama

Archie Horror – Who Knew?

Stopped in the Library yesterday. Spied a comic on the “Take One — Leave One” shelf. “Afterlife Archie” from, made in 2016. Talk about Postmodern Pastiche! And there was (or is) a TV show too. Who knew? (Ok, most of you are saying who cares?) This would be a great topic for students of pop art/culture. The artwork in this thing is terrific. In the panels shown, the “voice” of recollection is depicted in the impressionist style, while the “voice” of “real-time” uses the visual tropes of film noir/horror.

The young Archie as remembered by Betty
Archie takes on a new look.
Archie as leader.

Demetrius and the Gladiators

So fast, so simple, so pure. Gene Tierney and Victor Mature in Demetrius and the Gladiators. The end of the film moves from what seems to be the certain death of the hero, to revolution, the end of a love affair, and the triumph of human good in just a few minutes. No CGI, just great acting, directing and production values. My descriptions explain each shot, each of which is only a few seconds long. Great storytelling via images at a speed that brings a satisfying emotional conclusion.

Gene Tierney cut off by a descending gate after she begs Demetrius not to sacrifice himself in the arena. She offers “to become a Christian too” if that is what he wants. Gate is now the beginning of the final psychological separation about to come.

Tears through the gate, seeing her lover about to be killed. What a shot!

Seconds later, while the Emperor declares himself a god who cannot be disobeyed, the guards refuse to kill Demetrius. Instead, one takes aim at the Emperor and…

Seconds later the Emperor is dead and the new Emperor (left) is instantly declared. You can see the response: “who me”?

Still only a few seconds later, the new Emperor takes back his wife (who has been two-timing him with Demetrius) — for the sake of the empire. The Emperor must have a wife, no? Tierney sits down on the throne herself and then looks at Demetrius. No lines necessary here. Good-bye, my love!

Demetrius responds with a look of his own. Yes. Good-bye. But I can take it. After all, I’m on a mission from God. The new Emperor has declared that he is NOT a god and has no intention of becoming one. Furthermore, he has just told me to go to all my Christian friends and tell them they have nothing to fear from Rome. So I’m going.

Yes. Good-bye. I understand.

Note how the Emperor is in shadow – a shadow that is not there in “reality.” The shadow brings Tierney’s character forward into our zone of psychological identification.

No lines. So beautiful. So simple. So pure.

And then…truth marches on.

Brenau University Art Collection

Art transforms itself and the spaces around it. The painting below, casually placed over a garbage can in a stairwell at Brenau University, is transformed by the morning sun and a Venetian blind.
The painting is signed “Li Ming Shun 1989,” but there is no other information about it or even an indication that it is part of Brenau’s collection – so it appears as a random object in a random space, accidentally depicting an “imprisoned” face. If the same painting were in a museum with the same shadows occasionally appearing — think of the commentary!

Into the Spider-Verse and Philip Pullman (The Golden Compass)

Same basic plot — two forms of converging artistic media: boy with special powers he must learn to control takes on moral responsibility to return friends to their own time/space continuum. Philip Pullman (author of “His Dark Materials” trilogy, part of which was adapted to film “The Golden Compass”) is one of the leading YA fiction authors today. He recently tried his hand at a graphic novel, using the “second” (not real) Einstien-Carmichael expedition as a jumping off point. On the page shown, Blake, a scientist on the expedition, and his son, John, conspire to test an idea about space-time at the crucial moment. This results in a rupture of the space-time continuum causing John to be dislodged from our time. He meets still more time travellers and feels he must get them back to their times. Visually, the story is laid out in rather conventional panels but is none-the-less quite engrossing. Spiderman – Into the Spider-Verse, by contrast, is a visual masterpiece, combining photorealism, traditional 2-D comic book art, abstract expressionism, and graffiti-inspired motifs to tell a rapid-fire story full of wit, wisdom, and self-awareness. In this case, a particle collider causes a disruption in our spacetime continuum resulting in various Spidermen from alternate universes appearing in ours. “Our” Spiderman needs to return them. I could not find an image of what I would call the inspired “particle collider art” sequences of the film, but I am fairly certain contemporary critics like Camille Paglia (who marks the laser sword fight between Anakin and Obi-wan as one of the greatest artistic achievements of recent times) would love them.

Narrative Structures in Films: A Mindmap

Pages related to this topic:
Recent Best Films
200+ Great Films
Thomas Mann on film: Text from “The Magic Mountain”
Mistakes in Film Criticism
Aristotle’s Six Elements of Drama

Narrative Structures in Films

The diagram below indicates relationships among various factors present in the context of film narratives. Some of the considerations used to describe these factors derive from Plato’s conception of what guides (or ought to guide) the production of narratives in a social/political structure.

The main idea here is perhaps a rather obvious one: films, like other art, derive their creation, meaning, and purpose from multiple factors — but these factors are structured by systematically connected social, moral, and intellectually accepted “rules.” On the other hand, this is not an idea that the film industry itself seems to want to encourage since it takes away from the mystique of such keywords as “director, star, spectacle, and social relevance” that Hollywood uses to promote the idea that these elements, rather than a more complex web of multiple factors, are the key to understanding its creations. The diagram indicates not only “concrete” factors such as the requirements of proper narrative, but also some abstract concepts, such as Justice, that drive the production of socially useful narratives.

Below, some of the nodes are discussed. This work is in progress. A complete commentary on each node in the diagram and all the relationships shown in it is not finished at this time.

The Good WJ CJ Writer Fate Pre-existing Narrative Character Actions Narrative? Self? Aesthetic Universe Viewer Theater

The Good


Let us say that there is a source of inspiration that causes man to realize his higher nature. Let us call it “The Good.” Narratives structured in observance of the ideal of human self-transcendence will be a positive influence on individuals, as well as existing social and political structures.


In the analogy of the Cave, Plato apparently argues that media moguls, politicians, and narrative artists are uninformed and ill-intentioned. They have no access to truth (The Good) and their primary motivation is to keep the masses ignorant.

But Plato (again, apparently) underestimates or intentionally minimizes the potential of well-intentioned writers and artists to provide narratives that will, in fact, have a positive influence on the majority of media consumers.

Plato likens The Good to the Sun, an apt metaphor for a source of illumination that uncovers the reality by exposing it to the light of truth. Plato’s Good also causes changes in the human soul. In the analogy of the Cave, Plato explains how the Good inspired, even forced, one of the escaped “prisoners” to return to the realm below (our world) to tell others of the glories of The Good and the world above ours.

Plato’s metaphor of the Cave describes a method of social control through the manufacture of narratives and images. Plato’s metaphor of a captive audience being controlled by image-makers bears a striking correspondence with the role of media in our contemporary lives. If that were the entire substance of his metaphor, it would not be a stunning observation of the human condition, since we all know that we are limited by existing moral and political narratives. By adding the realm above the Cave and The Good, Plato creates an icon of hope — hope that we can escape these mundane narratives. Hope is the power behind narratives.

Hence, without some aim toward improvement, self-transcendence, overcoming existing social/political structures, and, ultimately knowledge of universal truths, there is little point in creating or paying attention to contemporary narratives (films, literature).


The Truman Show – An blow by blow model of Plato’s Cave, complete with escape.

The Wizard of Oz – Dorothy posits a “realm above” where everything is brighter (in color) and more pleasant. After having been educated in the realm above, she must return to the “realm below,” in the process discovering that the realm below also has its charms, once one is enlightened. (Plato provides a similar narrative structure in The Myth of Er.)

Cosmic Justice

Cosmic justice is the ultimate reward or punishment we receive for our deeds. One of the principal aims of social/political narratives (drama, media) is to:

  • Defend the idea that Cosmic Justice exists.
  • Demonstrate (via showing or telling) the play of Cosmic Justice in the human world.
  • Indicate the nature of Cosmic Justice: Is it guided by the will of a caring and just God? Is it something we can comprehend?

Example: The feather at the beginning of Forrest Gump tells us that the film will be thematically centered on the role of Cosmic Justice.

Every religion entertains some notion of cosmic justice. Probably the single most powerful notion of cosmic justice in the Western tradition is that developed by Jesus. Who can be saved? Who can expect a reward? Who can expect forgiveness of sins? Who has the potential to remake their life? “Everyone,” is the astounding answer given by Jesus. Hence, we have not only one of the single most powerful spiritual ideas in human history — but one that can supply that can fuel narratives in an effort to constantly support this.

The possibility of redemption is one of the master narratives played out over and over in popular narratives. “Redemption” need not have an explicitly religious connotation in the narrative, however. For example, Rocky remakes his life for the sake of obtaining both self-respect and the love of Adrian.

Cosmic and worldly justice need not be shown to match. See node on Worldly Justice. Indeed, a mismatch, or the possibility of a mismatch, is the crux of some stories…e.g. Crimes and Misdemeanors.

Worldly Justice


There are two, related, suppositions about this topic we might hold.

First: Worldly Justice is justice as it understood according to the norms of a social/moral/political system.

Generally speaking, films destined for mass audiences are not going to challenge these systems. See node on Pre-existing. The “natural” supposition of the public is that Worldly Justice more or less coincides with Cosmic Justice

Second: Worldly Justice shadows or replicates Cosmic Justice.

For example, those who commit heinous crimes are generally shown to suffer the consequences. This is often the entire point of a film: we are waiting with expectation for this event to be shown.

One knows, presumably, that such crimes violate the cosmic order and offenders will suffer justice in the afterlife, but the point of popular narratives is to show how such offenders suffer in this life — to show, in other words, the coincidence of Worldly and Cosmic Justice. This, of course, is to be expected of a commercial entertainment industry that seeks to reinforce, rather than subvert, the existing moral preconceptions of its customers.

CONFLICT, however, is necessary for every drama and great dramas draw into question the current norms of Worldly Justice and/or its coincidence with Cosmic Justice. This is particularly effective when the public perception is that the harmony between Cosmic and Worldly Justice has somehow broken down.


Dirty Harry is a film that derives its energy from the presupposition that Worldly and Cosmic Justice cannot be brought into harmony because the legal system has deteriorated. Hence, Dirty Harry struggles to correct the balance by pursuing his own brand of justice — even if it means going outside the legal system.

Death Wish was a hugely popular series based on the same premise.

More deeply metaphysical films pose this question:


OR, Is there a God who cares about human behavior?

These questions lie behind a film such as Mystic River (there was once a video commentary on this film on the original home page for films at ( since deleted…but it may come back).

Such questions seem to receive a resounding “NO” for an answer in very few films. But Woody Allen (if he can be counted as part of commercial entertainment), in Crimes and Misdemeanors, tells us a story in which the murderer does NOT pay for his crimes — at least in this life.

Draft…in progress.

Writers – Do Writers Know The Good?


Writers are not philosophers, but they may (unwittingly) express important metaphysical or moral dilemmas. It is trivially true that the study of narratives allows us to mine the collective unconscious of a time and place. In this sense, writers are mere landmarks. But even one who is skeptical of the narrative arts on philosophic grounds might admit that most artists share the philosophic aspiration to be ennobled by the Good, and in the process of that pursuit, they may help others to be ennobled.

Moreover, expressing a truth is often enough. We do not need to require that the one who expresses it also knows the depth of the truth expressed.


Text in progress…

Plato doubted that artists had knowledge of The Good. That is not to say that artists could not be inspired by The Good.

Although artists lack the critical facility to either understand or rationally defend what they say, Plato thought they could still express, through inspiration, things that were true. Although The Republic is usually considered to be one of the most sustained criticisms of poets* in the history of philosophy, a careful reading of it shows that Plato does not utterly condemn all poets. He acknowledges that he admires some poets, such as Simonides. His conclusion seems to be that artists might articulate correct moral values, and, in some cases, actually help the political communities of which they were a part, but that is no reason to grant them any particular honor — especially any honor higher than what should be accorded to philosophy.

Plato’s analogy of The Good as the sun leaves open the possibility of its indirect influence on those souls who have some ambition to know the truth and see the world as it actually is.

Aristotle criticized Plato on the grounds that making knowledge of the good mystical serves no purpose. “Good” things are things in this world, not things in some transcendental realm. Besides this, Plato seemed to discount the value of artists’ insights, due to the unreliability of “inspiration” as an epistemic technique. Aristotle argued that since it is undeniable that artists do often open our eyes to the truth, we ought to respect and honor them. Aristotle might agree that artists do not deserve a higher honor than philosophers, but Aristotle thought that Plato’s withering criticisms of the poets seem to imply that they usually do more harm than good.

Whether one takes a transcendental view or not, we should side with Aristotle’s basic point: writers can provide us with emotional events and intellectual insights that can help us become better human beings.

*Poets, for Plato, includes not only Homer, other, contemporary Greek poets, but also playwrights (Aristophanes, especially), the “screenwriters” of his own time.

Fate – The Fate of Characters in Film Should Correspond to Conceptions of Justice

“…and they lived happily ever after” is the verbal narrative equivalent of (for example) a final romantic embrace at the conclusion of a film. Just as short stories or novels conclude with a message about the fate of its characters, commercial Hollywood films offer us a conclusion to an extended moral argument about the just fate of its characters. This argument takes the form of “Characters who act in such and such ways deserve this reward (which you are now witnessing.)” The ultimate fate of the principal characters can imply:
1. Shared understandings of the pre-existing notions of justice in the culture
2. The writer’s understanding of those notions
3. Moral contradictions or competing notions of justice

The primary requirement for the entertainment value of mass media productions is that the fate of the characters be consistent with pre-existing notions of justice.

When pre-existing notions of justice contain contradictions, the artist may be instrumental in initiating a new narrative that seeks to resolve them. Hegel claimed that the Greek playwrights forced Greek culture to become more philosophical.

Example: Kramer vs. Kramer is often credited with having changed the legal landscape of divorce cases. After that film, husbands retained custody of the children more often.

Pre-existing Social and Political Narratives

…in progress

That new narratives derive from pre-existing ones is trivially true.

Industries cannot afford to seriously challenge existing social/political structures.

It follows that the entertainment arts will be fundamentally conservative in nature.

By “conservative in nature” we mean:
1. Fundamental notions of Worldly Justice will be upheld.
2. Fundament notions of Cosmic Justice will be upheld.
3. The fate of the characters will not be seriously out of line with existing expectations of Justice.
4. The Moral/Social/Political Parallel Universe created by the narrative will not be wildly different from the contemporary universe.
5. The Writer will work within the confines of these restrictions.

But unless the goal of the arts is to maintain a perfectly static society (cf. Plato’s Laws) pre-existing narratives must only be a starting point. Change derives from at least these sources:
1. The Transcendental Imperatives. (Kant)
2. Spiritual Evolution (Hegel)
3. Open-ended social/political structures (Democracies). (Since Plato objected to Democracies, he objected to the kinds of narratives they tend to generate. Aristotle was more open to democracies.)

Actions – The Conclusion of a Moral Syllogism

Aristotle says that the conclusion of a moral syllogism is an action. Unlike novels, films generally do not bring us an extensive version of the verbal internal life of its characters. As a result, the internal life of a character in a film is partially a hypothesis on the part of the viewer (see Viewer node). We see how the character acts, allowing us to
1. Understand (via retroduction) the syllogism causing the action;
2. Judge the validity of the character’s conclusion;
3. Compare this understanding and judgment about the character to the same understanding and judgments developed in the Shadow Narrative by the Shadow Self;
4. Expect that the action, in a moral universe, will have certain consequences.

Example: In The English Patient, Almasy (Ralph Fiennes) is suffering horribly and is sustained only by morphine injections. We can see him reach a moral decision when it comes time for his next injection. He nods to his caretaker, indicating that it is time to receive the overdose that will kill him. There is no dialogue indicating the moral reasoning behind this. We see the conclusion of his reasoning, and, presumably, we are tempted to believe that we would reach a similar decision under like circumstances (our own Shadow Narrative).

Example: In The Grapes of Wrath, we see the moral decision of George Milton (Burgess Meredith) who must, tragically, end the life of Lennie Small (Lon Chaney Jr.). Again, there is no dialogue here, except the misdirection George Milton uses in his speech and his covering of the gun.

Narrative – What Makes a Narrative?

Summary: Narrative structures are in part social/political conventions. What we find intellectually convincing and emotionally satisfying depends on pre-existing narrative conventions. It is now customary to refer to pre-existing narrative conventions as metanarratives and as “new” narratives as but pale reflections of these metanarratives. But this distinction can be overworked. Because every narrative refers to pre-existing narratives, every narrative is also a commentary on these pre-existing narratives, redirecting it to form new aspects of the pre-existing metanarratives. Narratives can, therefore, fulfill important social/political functions and often deal with transcendental questions because transcendental questions (the workings of God in the world, the nature of love, the true nature of various virtues, the nature of reward and punishment) are intrinsic to narrative formation.


Hollywood film narratives follow an explicit structure: the film consists of 3 “acts” or segments that contain prescribed elements. In Act I, the protagonist encounters some problem or dilemma that requires some action or decision. In Act II, the protagonist follows his course of action and fully engages the problem. Difficulties are encountered, deepening the problem, and requiring a further commitment by the protagonist. The protagonist engages the antagonist during this phase. In Act III, the full force of all the actions and decisions made by the protagonist come to fruition. The plot inexorably moves toward a final moment in which the success or failure of the hero hangs in the balance, on the basis of some final decision or action. Finally, the action reaches a climax and the narrative follows with a short section during which the elements of the narrative are resolved and consolidated.

Aristotle gave us much of this fundamental structure, and his text is still used today in film schools. Aristotle argued that specific elements of narrative that he discerned in Greek drama were essential for its cathartic power.

The Wizard of Oz Act I: Dorothy has conflicting feelings about life at home. Although she partly understands that people love and care for her, she is lonely and wants to leave on an adventure. She gets the chance when a hurricane deposits her in a strange land.
Act II: Dorothy decides to follow the Yellow Brick Road. She encounters difficulties in reaching Oz. When she reaches Oz, she discovers the Wizard cannot help her unless she kills the Witch.
Act III: Dorothy decides to try to kill the Witch. After many difficulties, she succeeds. Shortly thereafter, she returns home where she learns that indeed everyone cares for her and “there is no place like home.”
Reflections on transcendental questions and metanarratives: Is there another realm in which everything is pleasant and evil does not exist? No. Even in Oz, it is necessary to fight evil. What is the nature of such virtues as kindness and courage? They are inner strengths we may not be aware that we already possess and they can be developed through facing personal trials and learning obey one’s better instincts.

Draft….in progress

Character – Are there Rules for Character?


Aristotle argues that the protagonist in the best dramas (tragedies) must have flaws — or such is the generally received opinion about what Aristotle is supposed to have argued. In any event, these “flaws” result in the character’s undoing, i.e., result in a tragic ending. Since most popular films are comedies — meaning that the character triumphs over adversity — interest in the character and in the narrative can be best sustained by having characters with flaws who are nonetheless successful.


The overwhelming majority of popular films are comedies. As defined in the classical sense, a comedy is simply a narrative in which the protagonist succeeds in some worthy goal. Dante’s Divine Comedy is often cited as the archetype for a comedic story. Thus, many contemporary films classified as dramas — those which are in no sense humorous — can be classified as comedies if the protagonist is ultimately successful. Frequently, however, there are strong, sometimes overpowering, elements of tragedy in film dramas. These tragic elements sometimes involve the suffering or death of a secondary character. In some cases, the protagonist dies and another character, who embodies the protagonist’s life force, lives on; this is a way of providing both tragic and comedic elements.

The above considerations apply to the overall structure of the narrative. How, then, do these relate to character? Characters must be complex in order to support both comedic and tragic elements of the narrative. They must have virtues that enable survival and flourishing in the story in which they are found, but also flaws that provide an undercurrent of tension.

The balance of virtues and flaws provides the ground for what screenwriters call “inner conflict” which should be reflected in the outer conflict in the story.

This allows partial identification with the character and allows the viewer to make moral judgments that may differ from those of the protagonist.

This provides the basis for extending Aristotle’s ideas somewhat by giving them a modern, psychological flavor. See the node on the Shadow Self.


Action films are a good example of this. In Rocky, the protagonist has both virtues and vices, but lacks self-respect; he must resolve the inner conflict through the outer conflict of participating in an unwinnable contest. In Die Hard, the protagonist has great physical skills (as well as impossible luck) but suffers from estrangement from his wife; the outer conflict reflects inner conflict.

Cool Hand Luke is an example of the death of the protagonist, followed by his ultimate success through the survival of his life force in a disciple.

Draft….in progress.

Universe – A Parallel Universe?


In order to be satisfying, Narratives must simultaneously conform to and challenge our expectations of ultimate social, political, psychological, and metaphysical conditions that are thought to structure our world. Narratives are a sort of parallel universe into which one may enter through willing suspension of disbelief, in order to address the conditions that in fact structure our world.

Some Postmodernists assert that there a master narrative underlying most modern narratives, and that this master narrative is either evil or suspect. While the Postmodern view is correct in holding that metanarratives underlie narratives, it mistakes metanarrative for master narrative. It does not follow that metanarratives are master narratives or that they are either suspect or evil.

In order to question their metanarratives, films can question their own narrative devices and conventions, and challenge the viewer to assume a second-order awareness. This is sometimes done, as in The French Lieutenant’s Woman.

Yet, even the simplest films for mass entertainment posit a parallel universe, a lens through which the viewer can judge and experience the “real” world once the lights go back on. And, in the spirit of Aristotle rather than Plato, one can hope to learn in the process.

Draft…to be continued…an issue that must be covered here is the logical consistency and believability of the alternative universes posited by popular films, particularly in science fiction.

Aesthetic – Does the Aesthetic Response Exist?


Is a work of art more than the sum of its parts? Is there, in addition to the intellectual comprehension of the narrative and the psychological process of identification, a separate sort of human response to art that we may call the aesthetic response? Kant seems to have thought so. And empirically, there are some works of art that have a profound impact on us.


Many have argued that film is the greatest art form because it is the most thoroughly absorbing. But it can be objected that 1)verbal narrative can actually diminish the impact of visual art; 2)the ability of a medium to absorb a subject is not itself a measure of aesthetic quality; 3)there is no transcendental aesthetic response –our reactions to “art” is merely a function of temporary and contingent social/psychological conditioning.

Perhaps not enough time has gone by to determine whether films count as lasting aesthetic creations or merely temporary historically conditioned narratives that will be forgotten.

Draft…in progress.

Self? – The Shadow Self

Aristotle argues that the reason the tragic hero is important is because we can learn from him. This fits with Aristotle’s dictum that “all men by nature desire to know.” Hence, Aristotle’s view (as well as our contemporary view) appears to be that popular media do fulfill an epistemic function.

We learn from the tragic hero because although he is better than the average person, he has a tragic flaw that causes his downfall and also makes it easier for us to see how we are like him. We can identify with the character and so learn from him how to deal with obstacles and our own flaws. Aristotle uses the example of Odysseus.

Contemporary cinema uses many sorts of heroes and usually takes the form of comedy (success) rather than tragedy. However, the process of identification is still much the same.

To objectify this process and give it a name, we call it the Shadow Self.

Through the Shadow Self, the world of illusion becomes a window through which reality may be perceived.

….in progress.

Narrative? – The Shadow Narrative

NOTE: Can the Shadow Narrative override, rewrite, obscure, dominate actuality?

After the publicity he received from surviving attempted murder, Andy Warhol remarked that it is not as though film is a less involving, less emotionally compelling version of reality. Rather, reality seems like a less compelling more emotionally distant version of a movie.


Film is like consciousness in that it can instantly transport the subject to any imagined place or time. An imagined place or time is a narrative structure in consciousness, shadowing the functions and narrative structure of consciousness in the world of actualities. So, in watching a film, one replicates the structure of consciousness in the imagination — but (oddly) it does so in the space of the actual world — an actual theater that replicates the “theater of the mind.”

When one enters that world (by accepting it a narrative structure for consciousness, for consciousness), one creates a shadow narrative that is (momentarily) more compelling than that of actuality. The fact that one is merely viewing unreal events is displaced, as Coleridge remarked, by willing suspension of disbelief. It is through this act that learning can take place at little risk to the actual self. The Shadow Self, participating in the Shadow Narrative, takes the risks and participates in the actions.

in progress…


Thomas Mann on film: Text from “The Magic Mountain”

Pages related to this topic:
Recent Best Films
200+ Great Films
Narrative Structures in Films: A Mindmap
Thomas Mann on film: Text from “The Magic Mountain”
Mistakes in Film Criticism
Aristotle’s Six Elements of Drama

REMARKS by Anthony Birch, Ph.D.
The passage reproduced below, from The Magic Mountain, by Thomas Mann, is famous in film studies and rightfully so; it is among the finest ever written about the state of the human mind during the viewing experience. The Magic Mountain is the story of Hans Castorp, who goes to a mountain sanatorium with the intention of staying a few days, but finds himself compelled to stay longer — until seven years have passed. In this passage, Hans Castorp, his cousin, and friends from the sanatorium go to the movies. Through the voice of Hans, Mann marvels at the fact that although cinema is nothing like reality, it has the impact of reality — at least for some. Reality is the continuous present. Cinema consists of chopped up, momentary suggestions of events removed in space and time. In cinema, space is “annihilated.” Viewers are instantly transported to any part of the world. Cinema serves the most base instincts of the common man in its narratives — yet it has a kind of magical power to enthrall from which there is no escape. One longs to return to the darkness of the theater after the light of the world returns to destroy the illusion. Mann seems to be suggesting in this passage that the human psyche is as much moved and satisfied by illusion as reality. Strangest of all, Mann indicates, is the illusion of intimacy created by cinema. People “full of animal life” can appear to us in film with the direct, stark impact of a close face-to-face encounter. Yet this intimacy is one-way. The intimate look on the screen cannot be reciprocated by the viewer. The phantoms of cinema only seem to see us and they can not respond to us. This, I take it, Mann understands as a metaphor for the predicament of existence itself, in which human lives appear and disappear with all the senseless rapidity of cinema, and the call for intimate connections is flouted by the averted gaze of the other.

If you quote any of my remarks above, be sure to give proper credit. If you quote from Mann’s text below, it is preferred that you find the exact page number in Mann’s text, but in some cases (e.g., high school papers) it should be permissible to cite this page.

They even took Karen, one afternoon, to the Bioscope Theatre in the Platz — she loved it all so very much. The bad air they sat in was offensive to the three, used as they were to breathing the purest; it oppressed their breathing and made their heads feel heavy and dull. Life flitted across the screen before their smarting eyes: life chopped into small sections, fleeting, accelerated; a restless, jerky fluctuation of appearing and disappearing, performed to a thin accompaniment of music, which set its tempo to the phantasmagoria of the past, and with the narrowest of means at its command, yet managed to evoke a whole gamut of pomp and solemnity, passion, abandon, and gurgling sensuality. It was a thrilling drama of love and death they saw silently reeled off; the scenes, laid at the court of an oriental despot, galloped past, full of gorgeousness and naked bodies, thirst of power and raving religious self-abnegation; full of cruelty, appetite, and deathly lust, and slowing down to give a full view of the muscular development of the executioner’s arms. Constructed, in short, to cater to the innermost desires of an onlooking international civilization.

Settembrini, as critic, Hans Castorp thought, and whispered as much to his cousin, would doubtless have sharply characterized what they saw as repugnant to a humanistic sense, and have scarified with direct and classic irony the prostitution of technical skill to such a humanly contemptible performance. On the other hand, Frau Stuhr, who was sitting not far from our three friends, seemed utterly absorbed; her ignorant red face was twisted into an expression of the hugest enjoyment. And so were the other faces about them. But when the last flicker of the last picture in a reel had faded away, when the lights in the auditorium went up, and the field of vision stood revealed as an empty sheet of canvas, there was not even applause. Nobody was there to be applauded, to be called before the curtain and thanked for the rendition. The actors who had assembled to present the scenes they had just enjoyed were scattered to the winds; only their shadows had been here, their activity had been split up into millions of pictures, each with the shortest possible period of focus, in order to give it back to the present and reel it off again at will. The silence of the crowd, as the illusion passed, had about it something nerveless and repellent. Their hands lay powerless in face of the nothing that confronted them. They rubbed their eyes, stared vacantly before then, blinking in the brilliant light and wishing themselves back in the darkness, looking at sights which had had their day and then, as it were, had been transplanted into fresh time, and bedizened up with music.

The despot died beneath the knife, with a soundless shriek. Then came scenes from all parts of the world: the President of the French Republic, in top-hat and cordon, sitting in a landau and replying to a speech of welcome; the Viceroy of India, at the wedding of a rajah; the German Crown Prince in the courtyard of a Potsdam garrison. There was a picture of life in a New Mecklenburg village; a cock-fight in Borneo, naked savages blowing on nose-horns, a wild elephant hunt, a ceremony at the court of the King of Slam, a courtesans’ street in Japan, with geishas sitting behind wooden lattices; Samoyeds bundled in furs, driving sledges drawn by reindeer through the snowy wastes of Siberia; Russian pilgrims praying at Hebron; a Persian criminal under the knout. They were present at all these scenes; space was annihilated, the clock put back, the then and there played on by music and transformed into a juggling, scurrying now and here. A young Moroccan woman, in a costume of striped silk, with trappings in the shape of chains, bracelets, and rings, her swelling breasts half bared, was suddenly brought so close to the camera as to be life-sized; one could see the dilated nostrils, the eyes full of animal life, the features in play as she showed her white teeth in a laugh, and held one of her hands, with its blanched nails, for a shade to her eyes, while with the other she waved to the audience, who stared, taken aback, into the face of the charming apparition. It seemed to see and saw not, it was not moved by the glances bent upon it, its smile and nod were not of the present but of the past, so that the impulse to respond was baffled, and lost in a feeling of impotence. Then the phantom vanished. The screen glared white and empty, with the one word Finis written across it. The entertainment was over, in silence the theatre was emptied, a new audience took the place of that going out, and before their eager eyes the cycle would presently unroll itself again.

— from The Magic Mountain, by Thomas Mann. New York, Alfred A Knopf, 1958, pp. 316-318. Translation by H.T. Lowe-Porter.


Lifeboat – Film Genius without Spectacle

This tour de force gives the auteur theory meaning. The visual art of this film spells “Intellectual European Auteur” — one would never guess “Alfred Hitchcock, master of suspense.” This is a masterpiece of film art, which demonstrates how brilliant direction can give a superb script additional force.  Unlike so many current Hollywood productions that concentrate on spectacle (one of Aristotle’s “essential” elements of drama), this film concentrates on creating a psychological space that provides a context for a profound meditation on war, faith, the nature of evil, and the brevity of human life.

Lifeboat Image

A torpedoed ship during the WWII leaves only a few passengers alive in a lifeboat. A German soldier is also saved, but two of the passengers suspect the German is actually captain of the submarine that sank their ship. Here the two conspire to find out the identity of the German.
Lifeboat image

The captain responds brightly to “Herr Capitan,” thus revealing his identity.

Lifeboat image

William Bendix, in a great performance, plays the part of a well-meaning, but ill-educated “common man” who symbolizes the victims of Nazi brutality. Clearly suspicious in this shot. Every shot in the film is carefully composed to demonstrate what characters are thinking and feeling as well as to indicate thematic context.
Lifeboat image

Who would think that a “glamour shot” would make its appearance in a lifeboat? Here, we see Connie Porter (Talulah Bankhead) become the object of desire for Stanley Garett (Hume Cronyn). The soft focus glamour shot transforms the psychological space for both the characters and the audience.
Lifeboat image

At the climax of the film, there is a moment of decision. Note the forward leaning and expression of the character on the right, who precipitates the group’s action.

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200+ Great Films

Pages related to this topic:
Recent Best Films
200+ Great Films
Narrative Structures in Films: A Mindmap
Thomas Mann on film: Text from “The Magic Mountain”
Mistakes in Film Criticism
Aristotle’s Six Elements of Drama

This set of lists makes it pretty easy to find a good film: if it’s on one of these lists, chances are you will enjoy the film.
Please Note: Although most of these titles in the table below have been checked for availability, some may be currently out of stock or may have been withdrawn from circulation by the studio.


Movie Making/Hollywood:
Mulholland Drive    A
The Stunt Man    A
The Player     A
The French Lieutenant’s Woman   A

Melding Fact with Fiction:
A Beautiful Mind

Cartesianism, Memory, and
Alternate Realities:

Fight Club
Vanilla Sky
The Matrix

Film Noir:
Double Indemnity
Touch of Evil
Mildred Pierce
The Third Man
The Maltese Falcon

Underground Sci-Fi:
Mars Attacks
Buckaroo Banzai
Dark Star
Dark City (1998)
The Lathe of Heaven (1980)

Best Lina Wertmüller:
Seven Beauties (1976)
Swept Away (1974)

Best Woody Allen:
Crimes and Misdemeanors
Sweet and Low Down
Radio Days
Take the Money and Run
Deconstructing Harry (1997)
Annie Hall
Play it Again Sam
Bullets over Broadway
Hannah and Her Sisters

Liquid Sky
Dark Star
The River’s Edge
Looking for Richard
The Rapture
Wild at Heart
Red Rock West
Night on Earth
The Emerald Forest
Baghdad Cafe

Foreign Films:
Babbette’s Feast
Pele the Conqueror
Ju Dou
Jesus of Montreal
Dersu Uzala
Il Postino
The Shop on Main Street
Wings of Desire

Lesser-Known Classics from Hollywood’s Golden Era:
The Red House
The Sea Wolf
M Street
Manhattan Tales*
Now, Voyager
The Letter
The Razor’s Edge
The Trial
Bend of the River
Cimarron (1931)

The Producers
Planes, Trains and Automobiles
The Gold Rush
The Philadelphia Story
The Miracle of Morgan’s Creek (1944, VHS)
The General
Silent Movie

Films and Communism:
Citizen X
One, Two, Three 
The Amazing Adventures of Mr. West
in the Land of the Bolsheviks 

Burnt By the Sun 
Stalin’s Projectionist 

* Limited Availability


1. Citizen Kane, 1941
2. Casablanca, 1942
3. The Godfather, 1972
4. Gone With the Wind, 1939
5. Lawrence of Arabia, 1962
6. The Wizard of Oz, 1939
7. The Graduate, 1967
8. On the Waterfront, 1954
9. Schindler’s List, 1993
10. Singin’ in the Rain, 1952
11. It’s a Wonderful Life, 1946
12. Sunset Boulevard, 1950
13. The Bridge on the River Kwai, 1957
14. Some Like it Hot, 1959
15. Star Wars, 1977
16. All About Eve, 1950
17. The African Queen, 1951
18. Psycho, 1960
19. Chinatown, 1974
20. One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, 1975
21. The Grapes of Wrath, 1940
22. 2001: A Space Odyssey, 1968
23. The Maltese Falcon, 1941
24. Raging Bull, 1980
25. E.T. – The Extra-Terrestrial, 1982
26. Dr. Strangelove, 1964
27. Bonnie and Clyde, 1967
28. Apocalypse Now, 1979
29. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, 1939
30. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, 1948
31. Annie Hall, 1977
32. The Godfather Part II, 1974
33. High Noon, 1952
34. To Kill a Mockingbird, 1962
35. It Happened One Night, 1934
36. Midnight Cowboy, 1969
37. The Best Years of Our Lives, 1946
38. Double Indemnity, 1944
39. Doctor Zhivago, 1965
40. North by Northwest, 1959
41. West Side Story, 1961
42. Rear Window, 1954
43. King Kong, 1933
44. The Birth of a Nation, 1915
45. A Streetcar Named Desire, 1951
46. A Clockwork Orange, 1971
47. Taxi Driver, 1976
48. Jaws, 1975
49. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, 1937
50. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, 1969
51. The Philadelphia Story, 1940
52. From Here to Eternity, 1953
53. Amadeus, 1984
54. All Quiet on the Western Front, 1930
55. The Sound of Music, 1965
56. M*A*S*H, 1970
57. The Third Man, 1949
58. Fantasia, 1940
59. Rebel Without a Cause, 1955
60. Raiders of the Lost Ark, 1981
61. Vertigo, 1958
62. Tootsie, 1982
63. Stagecoach, 1939
64. Close Encounters of the Third Kind, 1977
65. The Silence of the Lambs, 1991
66. Network, 1976
67. The Manchurian Candidate, 1962
68. An American in Paris, 1951
69. Shane, 1953
70. The French Connection, 1971
71. Forrest Gump, 1994
72. Ben-Hur, 1959
73. Wuthering Heights, 1939
74. The Gold Rush, 1925
75. Dances With Wolves, 1990
76. City Lights, 1931
77. American Graffiti, 1973
78. Rocky, 1976
79. The Deer Hunter, 1978
80. The Wild Bunch, 1969
81. Modern Times, 1936
82. Giant, 1956
83. Platoon, 1986
84. Fargo, 1996
85. Duck Soup, 1933
86. Mutiny on the Bounty, 1935
87. Frankenstein, 1931
88. Easy Rider, 1969
89. Patton, 1970
90. The Jazz Singer, 1927
91. My Fair Lady, 1964
92. A Place in the Sun, 1951
93. The Apartment, 1960
94. Goodfellas, 1990
95. Pulp Fiction, 1994
96. The Searchers, 1956
97. Bringing Up Baby, 1938
98. Unforgiven, 1992
99. Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, 1967
100. Yankee Doodle Dandy, 1942


Rebecca, 1940
Spartacus, 1960
Do the Right Thing, 1989
Beauty and the Beast, 1947 (French)
Picnic at Hanging Rock, 1979 (Australian)
You Can Count on Me, 2000
Burnt by the Sun, 1994 (Russian)
The Man With a Movie Camera, 1929 (Russian)
Babette’s Feast
The Seventh Seal, 1956 (Swedish)
Traffic, 2000
The Game, 1997
Fight Club, 1999
Rain, 1932
Once Upon a Time in the West, 1968
Telling Lies in America, 1997
Ran, 1985 (Japanese)
Children of Paradise, 1946 (French)
Blade Runner, 1982
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, 1962
Eyes Wide Shut, 1999
The Bicycle Thief, 1949 (Italian)
The Letter, 1940
Taxi Driver, 1976
Greed, 1924
The Seven Samurai, 1954 (Japanese)
Sunset Blvd., 1950
Groundhog Day, 1993
Crumb, 1994
Berlin Alexanderplatz, 1980 (German)
East of Eden, 1955
The Lathe of Heaven, 1980
Momento, 2000
Sleeper, 1973
“M”, 1933
Open City, 1945
Blow Up, 1960
Aguirre: The Wrath of God, 1977
The Magnificent Ambersons, 1942
Nashville, 1975
White Heat, 1949
Akira, 1988
The General, 1927
Seven Beauties
Hoop Dreams
Sullivan’s Travels, 1941
Reservoir Dogs, 1992
The Cat People, 1942
Come Back, Little Sheba
Seventh Heaven, 1927
Das Boot
Wild at Heart
Pele the Conquer, Swedish, 1987
The Return of Marin Guerre, French, 1982
Of Mice and Men
What’s Eating Gilbert Grape
Dirty Harry
Wise Blood
Wings of Desire
Mr. Skeffington
Black Narcissus, 1947
Pinocchio, 1940
Wings of Desire, 1987 (German)
Refifi, 1958 (French)

* ABOUT THE AFI LIST: In an amusing and light-hearted book about film ( Ten Sure Signs a Movie Character is Doomed…), critic Richard Roeper suggested that the AFI list has many films that simply do not belong among the “top 100.” He asks: is The Graduate really the 7th best film of all time? Although there may be no truly bad films on the AFI list, from the standpoint of movie fans looking to broaden their horizons and by mining the rich history of film, the AFI list has many flaws. First of all, since the list is just of American films, it eliminates many of the world’s great classics. Second, the whole idea of ranking films in order is dubious at best; there is a class of excellent films, but individual rankings within that class are near pointless since each film is excellent in its own way. Third, some films (such as The Graduate and The Silence of the Lambs) appear to have been included because of the momentary impact they made in popular consciousness rather than for their importance to film history or their continued relevance. To be sure, the AFI list includes great masterpieces, such as Vertigo and Citizen Kane. But it can be argued that both Hitchcock and Welles are underrepresented on the list; there are many Welles or Hitchcock films not presently on the list that would surely be better choices than The Graduate! With these thoughts in mind, I endeavored to create a somewhat whimsical list of films better than The Graduate. I tried to follow these rules: (1) the films could not already be on the AFI list (lest I merely reorder the AFI list — an even more dubious exercise than the present one!); (2) some of the same directors and genres from the AFI list had to be included; (3) foreign films should be included; and (4) from a movie fan’s point of view the list had to have an entertainment or viewability quotient similar to that of films that did make the AFI list. Viewability is always a concern. After all, from the consumer’s point of view, the ultimate question is: do I want to spend money on this? The column at the right of the table is the result of this experiment in list building. -ab


Mistakes in Film Criticism

1. THE AUTEUR THEORY. An idea popularized some decades ago by French intellectuals — basically, the idea that the meanings of films can be derived from their original intent, and this intent is controlled and manifested by the director of the film. The most often cited example is Hitchcock, who transformed “B” pictures into great works of art reflecting his own view of the universe. A more recent example: Tim Burton turned Pee Wee’s Big Adventure into something quite a bit more than a mindless kid’s movie. Hollywood and the general public continue to believe the auteur theory. Directors who do a surprising job with mediocre material (e.g., as Dennis Hopper did with Easy Rider) are often rewarded with more ambitious projects. The director’s reputation is sometimes a factor in getting the public to see films that might otherwise be ignored (e.g., Steven Soderbergh’s remake of Oceans 11 or Ang Lee’s Hulk).

The problem with the Auteur Theory is that it simplistic. While it is undeniable that the great directors leave an indelible stamp on their pictures, their input is only one of many factors that contribute to a great film. (See Aristotle’s list of elements in drama, elsewhere on these pages.) Most frequently overlooked is an obvious factor: the script. While the industry, and most film critics, have recognized the role of directors, screenwriters have been virtually ignored. The Screenwriters Guild went on strike over the issue. The strike (1999 or 2000?) lasted until the industry finally gave in to demands for increased public recognition of writers’ creative role in the production of films. During the strike, a member of the guild appeared on the TODAY SHOW. He said that we are in a culture that celebrates actors in stories rather than the creators of stories — and he implied (quite correctly) that there is something fundamentally wrong with this.

Directors do not (in their role as directors) create the basic narrative. Their role is more akin to that of a musician who plays and interprets a composition. By “basic narrative,” I mean the linguistic narrative. Defenders of the auteur theory might argue that film is essentially a visual narrative, and since the director controls the visual interpretation of the script, the director becomes the “author” of the finished product by default. First of all, any visual interpretation, while it can embellish (or even be at odds with) the series of events depicted does not itself constitute a new and independent narrative. The script, not the images associated with it, contains the essentials of the moral life posited by the characters. In my view (again, just following Aristotle), the structure of the plot, and the moral choices of the characters in the plot comprise the most important messages of a film. Second, as I (and many other philosophers) have argued elsewhere, the concept of a purely visual narrative simply does not hold water. Images have no meaning in an of themselves. They are given the potential for meaning by a narrative or story structure. Unless the director also writes the script, there is only a limited sense in which he is the auteur of the story.

One can respond, I think, to my comments above as follows. This is not the auteur theory at all. What we mean by the auteur theory is that the director transforms a written script into a visual language and creates a new level of meaning over and above the original narrative. And this is what is both interesting and creative about the role of the director in a film.

A response to this objection: True, a director can do these things. And in some cases, the role of the director, and the new levels of meaning introduced are the most important elements of the film. The works of many of the great directors (Ford, Welles, Hitchcock, etc.) usually cited as auteurs demonstrate this. But is it true in every case? Is this the only factor we need to look at? Do we need to get inside the director’s mind rather than the writer’s mind to understand a film? My objection to the auteur theory is not that directors cannot or do not introduce new levels of meaning, but that (1) this theory cannot serve as the only tool for criticism; (2) the fundamental moral meaning of a film derives from its script; and (3) the messages delivered by films are not essentially visual — rather, the messages delivered are due to a complex of factors (again, see Aristotle’s list of elements in drama) over which the director exerts only limited control.

2. THE THEORY THEORY. This is the idea that some specific perspective, generally one founded on some scientific, cultural, religious, sociological, moral, or intellectual ideology, is required for the correct criticism of all cultural manifestations expressed through the arts. The auteur theory (above) is similar in that it demands a certain perspective, but the theory theories are grander in scale. They are derivative of some total theory — one that purports to encompass virtually every aspect of social and political life. Examples include Marxist theory, radical Feminism, or any of the myriad other similarly inspired approaches. All these share a common thread: they posit that all cultural events, especially the productions of popular media for mass culture, are essentially a form of conspiracy to control the shape of human development in according to a some (evil) master plan, and it is the duty of the critic to expose this plan in order that cultural enlightenment will be brought about (according to the critics own vision of the good).

Such theories, in so far as they are applied to criticism of the arts, suffer from several flaws. First, like the auteur theory, they are simplistic. Theory-driven critics tend to lament the fact that popular media simply supports the prejudices of the status quo. It is, of course, true that the productions of mass media reflect the norms of the culture. But it is, in a sense, trivially true. What should we expect from popular media? Surely not anything that essentially calls into question all the presuppositions and prejudices that are built into the culture in which it exists! Cultures, and the popular media that run through them, generally seek some sort of stability; they do not try to commit intellectual suicide by trivializing or renouncing the values that they hold sacred.

Second, the theory-driven critic tends to become a soldier in a cultural war rather than a critic of the arts. Theory-driven critics are right to point out that evil cultures produce popular entertainment to support their value systems. After all, Nazi Germany produced films to support its agenda. This, however, is not the point of criticism of the arts. We can distinguish between propaganda and cultural artifacts (artistic productions) that exemplify both cultural and universal truths. The theory-driven critic tends to regard all popular media as propaganda — and he tends to pit his own vision of what reality should be against that propaganda.

Third, criticism driven by grand theories tends to develop its own “principles” of criticism, based on its own version of what would be best, according to the utopian vision of the critic. For example: “this image does not support the liberation of workers,” “this image retains the aura of a male-dominated society,” and so on. Eventually, these principles become so flexible that they evaporate into an empty repetition of formulas. Examples: Freudian psychoanalytic principles as an explanation of every form of human behavior; feminist principles as an explanation for every moment depicted in every film.

When “complete” critical theories are applied, they tend to subvert an authentic search for the good, the true, and the universal that may be embodied in the productions of popular media.

3. THE NO THEORY THEORY. The fall-back position from the theory theory is to take a diametrically opposed view. The “no theory” advocates say that finding the “correct” theory of criticism is not the problem. They assert there can be no “correct” theory because the concepts which underlie theory construction are flawed or outdated. The no theory advocates question (1)any type of universal theory of interpretation, (2) the idea that there are specific, original, or authoritative meanings to be uncovered by criticism, and even (3) the concept of truth itself. According to this line of reasoning, the idea that films (among the many other human productions that can be interpreted) actually have a meaning is false. A version of the no theory theory is reflected in an interesting article by Jo Smith. She states: “There is no lack or absence in a filmic encounter, no hidden meaning to be unearthed, no abstract body of knowledge to reach for to re-insert a meaning.”

The no theory theory is inherent in Postmodernism, which asserts that we should acknowledge the “death of the author” because readers (or spectators), conditioned as they are by pre-existing meta-narratives that define their social, political, and intellectual horizons, clearly contribute just as much in the production of meaning as the reputed “source” of meaning, the author. Postmodernism capitalizes on the contemporary fear of “totalizing influences,” that is, of meta-narratives that control our thinking. I believe this view, while it has the benefit of making us conscious of our preconceptions, simply ignores the structure of the creative process in contemporary story writing, which follows well-known principles. One may question those principles, of course — but that is hardly the main job that needs to be done when one is intellectually engaged in appreciating a film. One does not need to question the rules of sonnet making when one reads and interprets a sonnet. The no theory theorists, are, perhaps, more in the right than the auteur theorists in recognizing that except in very rare cases there is no single author of a film, and they are right to caution us against over-reliance on conventional methods of interpretation. But by attempting to abolish truth and meaning they leave little in the way of possibilities for critical response other than a form of free-association with images and text. Furthermore, there seems to be a confusion in the no theory theory between having many levels of meaning and no meaning at all. To say that a sonnet has many meanings is not to say that it has no meaning, nor is it to exclude the possibility that some meanings gleaned through interpretation are better than others. Finally, the postmodern approach, in my view, is a kind of defeatism. It implies that we should give up searching for truths about the human dilemma that are expressed through art — or, worse, it implies that we should substitute our own “truth” for that of the artist’s. For additional arguments against the postmodern or no theory approach in the arts, see A. D. Coleman’s article on Cindy Sherman.

4. CONFUSING STORY CONTEXT WITH THEME. The story context of Forrest Gump is “a slow-witted man makes his way in the world.” The theme of the film, on the other hand, is a profound metaphysical issue: do we live in a world guided by chance or does God’s grace influence or control certain events? Do we live in an uncaring, mechanical universe, or is there something more complicated involved? The theme is introduced at the beginning of the film as a feather floats through the air (obeying chance and the laws of physics) and finally lands (by chance?) near the hero. Many people, even professional critics, mistake what is immediately presented (the action, setting, or context) for the theme or message of the film. Some critics, for example, objected to Forrest Gump as “a celebration of stupidity.” Such criticisms clearly miss the point. We can make the distinction another way: at one level in any narrative, there is a storyline or setting; at another, there is what the author is writing about at the deepest level – his theme. The setting of The Iliad is the Trojan War, but the poem is not about the Trojan war per se. The poet uses the context of the war to address his themes: the consequences of uncontrolled anger, the folly of human pride and jealousy, and the involvement of the gods in human affairs. Similarly, Dirty Harry is the story of a cop who steps outside the law in order to track down a psychopathic killer, but one of the themes concerns justice in general: can we trust our system (or God) to bring people to justice? Now, one may argue that the vehicle chosen by an author is inappropriate to the theme. Hence, some people may think that both The Iliad and Dirty Harry seem more like celebrations of violence than serious treatments of important themes. But this is a different sort of aesthetic judgment, and it cannot take place until we have at least first attempted to differentiate story context from theme.

5. “POLITICAL” THINKING. A professor at Columbia University once informed the class that Rising Sun was a racist, politically-motivated film. The professor had not seen the film, nor had any members of the class. This fact stopped no one from passing judgment. The entire class agreed the film was racist. There should be, the professor went on to say, a review panel that would check the “messages” of any film before it was released. This “classroom moment” should have been televised: it might have later been enshrined as a defining moment for political correctness. Plainly, this brand of PC revealed itself as the worst sort of absolutism, with a strong attraction for people interested in obtaining moral and intellectual domination through mind control and social engineering.

This warped political consciousness is the foundation of one of the most pervasive styles of criticism in the United States. Examples abound: “this film carries the wrong message for contemporary women,” ” this film depicts black Americans in a negative light,” “this film glorifies violence,” and so on. Indeed, for some, how a film depicts blacks, women, or gays is the essential litmus test of the “quality” of a film. In any given case, such critical comments may, in fact, have some merit, but if that is the end of the analysis, then it is a mistake. One must first do justice to the essential questions relevant to the analysis of narratives:

1. What is the nature of the human character development (regardless of race or gender) that takes place in the film?

2. What is the nature of the conflict between good and evil?

3. Was the protagonist correctly motivated?

4. What did the protagonist learn as a result of his struggle?

5. What happens in the subplot? (As far as the message of the film goes, this may be more important than the plot.)

6. What universal themes are at issue?

These, among others, are questions essential to answer before one can begin to interpret the political messages that may be contained in a film.

6. EMOTIONALISM.“I liked it.” “It made me laugh.” It made me cry.” These and other similar reports on how a movie made us feel are sometimes mistaken for criticism. But reporting one’s emotions is not the same sort of activity as reflectively judging the overall quality of an artistic production. Critical, reflective, activity is always at one remove from emotional involvement. Of course, how an artistic production makes us feel is an essential part of criticism, but it must be part of other considerations. It is perfectly possible, for instance, to accept that a film has profound emotional impact (because, for instance, of powerful imagery or the sentimental nature of the story), but judge that the film is not, overall, a good film (because of lack of nuance, poor acting, predictable story, etc.). On the other hand, a film might lack emotional impact, but still be a very good film in most other respects. Confusing these issues is, perhaps, a less common mistake than others.

7. ELITISM. There is, for some people, a temptation to believe that whatever the hoi poli enjoy and endorse should not be enjoyed or endorsed by a “certain class” of people. So, for example, some people judge European films as invariably better than American films — simply because (so they believe) such films are not produced for a mass market, but are specifically intended for intellectuals. This attitude overlooks several important features of popular media, and of American films in particular. Many (if not most) great works of art have always been, and continue to be, produced with the intent of creating popular (as opposed to “class targeted”) art. In particular, the narrative arts are usually intended to be appreciated on many levels, by every “class”(Shakespeare, anyone?). While European “art” films that make it to this country often appear (on the surface) to be more intellectually sophisticated, it is not true, as a rule, that popular American films are always less sophisticated (and therefore for a lower “class”). The apparent differences in sophistication between American and European art films is often more a matter of how the films present their themes. The intellectual issues addressed in the themes of American films are usually covered over by more tangible elements that tend to increase audience involvement, such exciting plots, grand spectacles, or convincing demonstrations of the techniques of method acting. For those who wish to make the effort of analyzing the deeper layers of meaning present in many American films, there is plenty of material to satisfy the intellectual. The Auteur theorists, to their credit, accepted this truth and developed many techniques for the appropriate analysis of American films.


Aristotle’s Six Elements of Drama

Pages related to this topic:
Examples of Narrative Analysis
Recent Best Films
200+ Great Films
Narrative Structures in Films: A Mindmap
Thomas Mann on film: Text from “The Magic Mountain”
Mistakes in Film Criticism

During the last century, an astounding phenomenon has occurred: the world, particularly the Western world, has developed a universal language. This is the language of films. Since the 1920s and 1930s, French, Italian, German, British and American films have been mainstays of international cultural and artistic expression. American movies, in particular, have been enormously successful, appealing to audiences worldwide. Internet media, broadcast media, and print media carry stories about the latest Hollywood releases in addition to the all-important trivia surrounding the lives of the various stars. Cultural differences begin to disappear in the melting pot of the universal language of film narratives.

It is the enormous international popularity of American films that have led some to conclude that this must be the result of the dread scourge of the late 20th and early 21st centuries: cultural imperialism. Guilt by virtue of success. This kind of thinking is shallow at best. The narrative structure of popular dramatic art forms has not changed essentially since the days of Aristotle. It is by virtue of adherence to formulaic artistic criteria and the judicious use of defined narrative elements that all films, American and others, achieve their success. Good popular films are art forms like odes, sonnets, or fugues: they have specific formal requirements. Their artistic merit – and their popular success – is a result of meeting these formal requirements.

To understand the formal elements utilized by the contemporary film industry, it is useful to review the elements of drama introduced by Aristotle.

ARISTOTLE’S SIX ELEMENTS of drama are Spectacle, Character, Fable (Plot), Diction, Melody, and Thought. These elements (slightly modified and re-interpreted for contemporary audiences) remain essential to modern films. Aristotle claims that, contrary to what one might expect, Plot or “the form of action” is the most important element. This is because, in Aristotle’s view, the purpose of life “is a certain kind of activity” and drama ought to depict certain kinds of activity that we may learn the results of these forms of activities. Aristotle would reject the contemporary view (supported by insidious propaganda that acting is a high art form and by the public’s fascination with the lives of actors) that the depiction of Character is central or most important. Aristotle’s arguments for the primacy of Plot over character include the following:

“Character gives us qualities, but it is in our actions — what we do — that we are happy or the reverse” (Poetics, 1450a18).

“In a play accordingly they do not act in order to portray the Characters; they include the Characters for the sake of the action” (Poetics, 1461a15-20).

He concludes that Character is of second most importance (Poetics, 1450b1). Character does interplay with the other elements, but its primary importance (especially in films) is that it introduces morality. As Aristotle says, “…character is what makes us ascribe certain moral qualities to the agents” (Poetics, 1450a4). The third element is Thought. One must be careful in discerning this element, for this is not what the character says that may reveal elements of the character, but what a character says regarding important intellectual themes — or, as Aristotle puts it, “all they say when proving or disproving some particular point, or enunciating some universal proposition” (Poetics, 1450a5). [In contemporary films it is sometimes asserted (with justification in some instances) that the director of the film actually controls “what is said or asserted.” This is done not through the dialogue, over which he has limited control, but through subliminal suggestion through the language of images alone. This idea of the correct way to determine the ultimate meaning of films is often referred to as the auteur theory. I reject, in part, this theory. See my Seven Mistakes.]

Below is a summary of the above three elements and the remaining three elements, with examples, as they apply to contemporary films:

1. Plot: The Searchers (A) — Horrible event befalls man; man initially chooses revenge, but finally chooses redemption and forgiveness.

Note: It is not always easy to describe how plot relates to theme and what I call story. It has been argued, correctly, following Aristotle, that there are only a few basic plots. If we state the plot of The Searchers as “man chooses revenge against INDIANS,” we have a different, more specific, understanding of the plot. Such a specific understanding cannot be considered a basic plot. A basic plot introduces THEMES. In this case, the basic plot of “horrible event befalls a man” introduces the theme of the POSSIBILITY of forgiveness. It does not introduce forgiveness as a narrative actuality, until that point in the plot where the character makes a moral choice. It remains as true today as in Aristotle’s time — and Hollywood writers generally accept it this — that a good story (film) MUST have specific “plot points,” or moments when the character makes a moral choice. By adhering to this rule, Hollywood writers can be said to accept Aristotle’s idea that plot, rather than character, is central. Further complexities of this issue go beyond the scope of my comments here. See my Seven Mistakes for more information.

2. Character: Rocky (A) — Following Aristotle, we could ascribe moral characteristics to Rocky and how his character fits into the action as follows: Rocky is a man who has lost his self-respect. Fate (being selected by Apollo Creed as an opponent) allows Rocky the chance to regain his self-respect by working hard and taking on a seemingly impossible task (going the distance against the world champ). It is only through actions that Rocky can rebuild his character; he cannot simply will himself to have more self-respect. Hence, Rocky demonstrates Aristotelian character-building through action.

3. Thought: Forrest Gump (A) — an example of a film showing how a character who has limited cognitive abilities may nevertheless be used as a mouthpiece for ideas relevant to a philosophy of life. Forrest says, “Life is a box of chocolates,” meaning “you don’t know what possibilities life has until you embrace them” or “do not despair because life seems to be a game of chance — that’s where the fun comes in!” Forrest Gump is, in fact, a metaphysical speculation on the role of chance in the universe (see Seven Mistakes, item number 4). Sometimes the hero states a more profound philosophy, such as the reasons we might have for self-sacrifice, as Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) does at the end of Casablanca (A). Another technique used by writers is the use of “throwaway lines,” in which characters can provide thought, or a conceptual background, in a film that may otherwise seem devoid of it. The Avengers (2012) has a number of these lines (see current home page). Additional reflections, largely from a Platonic rather than an Aristotelian perspective, on how philosophical concepts can be expressed in films are provided with my Mind Map of Narrative Structures.

4. Diction: In his Nichomachean Ethics, Aristotle calls for finding the “mean” or “middle” between extremes of character. In a similar fashion, in his Poetics, Aristotle suggests that extremes in diction be avoided. He calls for a mixture of poetic speech (use of metaphors, etc.) and common speech. Poetic speech adds interest and common speech provides clarity: “We need then a sort of mixture of the two. For the one kind will save the diction from being prosaic and commonplace, the rare word, for example, and the metaphor and the ‘ornament,’ whereas the ordinary words give clarity” (1458a25). Most films use prosaic speech throughout. In this sense, they probably fail to reach Aristotle’s standards for high art. A few films have adopted stylized speech throughout, such as True Grit (A). Some film adaptations of plays may represent what Aristotle had in mind, for example, Night of the Iguana (A), with Richard Burton. While we regard almost any film adaptation of Shakespeare as an example of high art, the language used is probably too inaccessible to current audiences to meet Aristotle’s “clarity” criterion.

5. Melody: Can be unnoticed (most films), or central to the impact of the film, e.g., the title theme from Star Wars (A). Today, composers of film scores are often considered major artists in their own right (John Williams, Max Steiner, Bernard Hermann, Elmer Bernstein) and some film scores are evaluated independently of films (see Digital Dream DoorWikipedia’s 100 Years of Film Scores, or Classical Music at The best films seek integration of the music with visual impact and major plot points. In many recent films, music often telegraphs emotional content, often to the detriment of particular scenes. Actors, directors, and producers rightfully fear having music overwhelm scenes or even entire films, throwing the film out of balance from an Aristotelian point of view. Major plot points are sometimes punctuated with specific musical events. For example, a bell chimes when Rocky (in one of the subsequent films) announces that he will fight again. Older films often utilize the power of silence: when a distraught mother calls her daughter’s name in M (1931), we only hear an echo from cold brick walls and see the child’s balloons drifting silently away. Musicals fall into a different category and deserve a more detailed discussion than can be provided here.

6. Spectacle: Visual Impact, the feeling of participating in large, grand events. Examples: Lord of the Rings (A), Ben Hur (A), Spartacus. (Spartacus is an excellent example of a film in which all six elements are of high caliber). Currently, many films promote spectacle as if it were the most important element and the primary reason to see films. Dialogue (i.e., expressions of Thought) often recedes into the background, as screentime is dedicated to special effects. It is instructive to compare contemporary films with some of those in the past that succeeded in developing effective drama with minimal spectacle. Lifeboat (1944) is an excellent example of an artistic tour de force achieved without spectacle. Additional commentary and screenshots from the visually spare landscape of Lifeboat are available here.

Additional comments on some features of popular culture, with examples from films and comics, are available here.