Paul Moody

Embassy cinema: What Wikileaks reveals about US state support for Hollywood

In an article for Foreign Affairs at the outbreak of the World War II, film producer Walter Wanger referred to Hollywood movies as ‘120,000 American ambassadors’. The preeminence of Hollywood in presenting US ideology to the world has been asserted ever since. Yet the relationship between Hollywood and America’s actual ambassadors, employed by the global network of American embassies, has rarely been investigated, despite the key role that this often overlooked aspect of the state apparatus plays in the maintenance of Hollywood’s commercial interests and American cultural hegemony. The release by WikiLeaks in November 2010 of over 250,000 diplomatic cables has provided an opportunity to address this gap, by offering researchers an unparalleled insight into the worldwide network of American embassies. This article employs these documents to explain how these embassies have influenced global film policies since early 2003, and the implications they have for conceptions of American power in the wake of the ‘War on Terror’.

‘Improper Practices’ in Great War British Cinemas

Analysis of the environment in which films were viewed is essential in order to gain a fuller understanding of the British cinema experience during the Great War. The exhibition context is of particular importance during the war years, as cinema going throughout this period was far from idyllic; in fact, British cinemas were subject to police scrutiny and were a hub of sexual activity that the government strove to suppress. Many critics have located the reports of these activities as part of a wider ‘moral panic’ regarding the cinema and the films exhibited within it, predominantly orchestrated by religious pressure groups and self-styled ‘moral crusaders’.1 Lise Shapiro Sanders likens this movement to similar campaigns in the nineteenth century, arguing that, like music halls previously, cinemas were subjected to ‘censorship and ideological control in an endeavour to distribute middleclass codes of social practice to the “lower” classes’.2 Yet this approach has often been based on the findings of a report by the National Council for Public Morals,3 with little investigation of the actual data supplied to the committee. Even accounts that have used some of this evidence position it as a minor component, exaggerated out of all proportion in order to satisfy the personal objectives of the moral purity campaigners.4

Honky Tonk Filmmaking

This chapter charts EMI’s withdrawal from big-budget Hollywood filmmaking in the wake of two critical and commercial disasters, Can’t Stop the Music and Honky Tonk Freeway, the latter of which lost the company over

Mr Forbes and the Pen-Pushers

20 million. Using documents from the BBFC and the private papers of some of the key directors and producers during this period, the chapter analyses the various problems faced by the company until its eventual takeover by Thorn.

All the Way Up

The MGM-EMI collaboration is explored in this chapter through two of its most notable films, Ken Russell’s The Boy Friend and Joseph Losey’s The Go-Between, showing how these two maverick directors worked within the confines of what was by then Britain’s largest film company. But while The Go-Between justified Forbes’ approach by securing the Palme D’Or, this chapter argues that EMI’s Mr Forbush and the Penguins was a much more apt metaphor for Forbes’ experiences at EMI, culminating in his resignation and Delfont handing over control to Nat Cohen.

And Soon the Darkness

Nat Cohen had developed a reputation as a crass, commercial producer, interested more in profits than quality. This chapter analyses Cohen’s early years with EMI, and argues that this portrayal is unfair. Films such as Spring and Port Wine, Entertaining Mr Sloane, and The Body were some of the more interesting British productions of the early 1970s and were all produced under Cohen’s reign. And while he was also responsible for several more commercial co-productions with Hammer Films, such as Horror of Frankenstein and Scars of Dracula, this chapter argues that Cohen’s funding enabled Hammer to produce some of its more challenging genre films such as Demons of the Mind, and much of its non-horror output, like On the Buses and Love Thy Neighbour, which connected with many of the key political concerns of the early 1970s.

The Likely Lad

EMI Films’ story begins in 1969 with its acquisition of the Associated British Picture Corporation (ABPC) and Bernard Delfont’s recruitment of Bryan Forbes to head up its new filmmaking division. By analysing their first three releases, And Soon the Darkness, Hoffman, and The Man Who Haunted Himself, the chapter outlines how Forbes and Delfont constructed their filmmaking philosophy, a conservative and explicitly ‘British’ approach to their productions that was influenced by Forbes’ friendship with Edward Heath. Using archival documents from Bryan Forbes’ private papers, the chapter places the productions within the context of the industrial issues at EMI’s Elstree Studios base and analyses the issues which would ultimately lead to Forbes’ downfall.

'An Amuse-Bouche at Best': 360 Degree VR Storytelling in Full Perspective

Cohen’s core output is analysed in this chapter, covering many of the most successful comedy films of the 1970s, including Frankie Howerd’s Up series, Percy and its sequel, Percy’s Progress, and several sitcom films, including both Steptoe and Son spin-offs. Cohen also developed major interventions in two other genres during this period, both of which are analysed here: the thriller films Villain and Fear is the Key, and a series of music-themed vehicles for leading 1970s pop stars Roy Harper, Cliff Richard, and David Essex, whose Stardust is presented as a pivotal film in EMI’s history, which was a catalyst to its eventual shift into transnational production.

The UK film council and the ‘cultural diversity’ agenda

Much has been written about the function of narrative in virtual reality (VR) productions (Aylett & Louchart, 2003; Aylett et al, 2005; Ryan, 2001; 2005; 2008; 2009), but the role of the audience, and the relative degree of control that they have over the content, has led some scholars to believe that there is an ontological problem with describing VR in narrative terms. This article investigates some of these assumptions, via an analysis of an undertheorised aspect of VR that has emerged in recent years – the 360° film. It argues that 360° film represents a much more important aspect of VR than has been previously recognised. In so doing, the article establishes this medium as an important field of study, and argues that ultimately, it will be the commercial infrastructure for this content which will define the parameters of immersive storytelling. KEywoRdS 360° Film, Immersive Storytelling, Narrative, Virtual Reality, VR