The Origins of Hollywood And What it Once Stood For

There is no vision anymore, no greater purpose, no pioneering spirit in film anymore. Films are made to make money, not a difference in peoples' lives. There are exceptions, of course, but when film began, that was the rule: emotions. Films were emotional, they had a reason. So where is the reason today? Money. Awards. Fame. Very few writers (i.e., Charlie Kaufman) can be excused from that category. So why have things changed?

Ironically, the concepts behind many of the classic and original films stemmed from immigrant ideals and emotions. Being exiled and persecuted in Eastern Europe near the turn of the century, they fled to America in hopes of escaping the violence and repression that plagued their country and, in turn, found fruitful lands in America. Unfortunately, like other immigrants who gathered in New York City, they seemed to be left out of the chase because of their outsider status, denied opportunities because of their ethnicity. So it was Jewish entertainers and entrepreneurs who discovered film in America and saw it as a means of sidestepping the normal route. Their films initially served as fantasy lifestyles, an escape from the city slums into prestige and wealth, fantastic images of their values, tastes and aspirations sympathetically portrayed.

Their films reflected their feelings, which glorified the outsider and thus assimilated them into American culture and dreams. As films gained much popularity and praise in the migrant mass, the Jewish entrepreneurs used their prominent business sense and capitalized, thus creating the film factory known as Hollywood in Los Angeles, California. The western and gangster films are products of Hollywood, Americanized stories of the Jewish ideals that glorified and sympathized for the outsider, who revert to other means to succeed in a society that outcast them. The idea of film as we know it and the values and concepts underlying them seem to be ironically based upon Jewish dreams and feelings.

It was men like and associated with Thomas Edison, the Lumiere brothers, George Meiles, Edwin S. Porter, and D.W. Griffith who founded film, who built the rocket that carried film to astronomical levels, but it was deflated emotions combined with the aspirations of the Jews that fueled its motion. Their experiences and emotions were the concept behind the villains of horror movies-the crucified Frankenstein (a Jewish character) and the Phantom of the Opera, despite their grotesque appearance and shunned existence, were sympathized for and identified with by audiences. King Kong was a foreigner in the city, an obvious outsider and a threat, but when under attack on a New York skyscraper, the audience is saddened for the kind creature. Superman was an immigrant from a different planet, and his disguise was a pleasant demeanor, suggesting for the Jews that their kind and peaceful manner would in time and justly bring them acceptance and assimilation into American culture. Similarly, the cowboy and the gangster represented men whom used violence as a tool outside of the system to acquire justice and pursue the American Dream. Violence is an American embellishment that characterizes both genres, as well as most the rest of American films, but the underlying concept coincides with or stems from the Jewish principles that pushed their films.

The western is a product or reflection of its era, as most films tend to be. The cowboy is at peace with nature, possessing an almost spiritual connection with his homeland. His comfort, his home lies among the wildflowers and wild animals, in the valleys, under the open sky; free. Civilization is his cage, the fence his bars. He is trapped, restrained within city limits, thus he is vulnerable when detached from his sanctuary. His gun is as spiritual as his home, it is an extension of his hand, and it is part of him; the "hand" gun was his choice. Most importantly, he is an outsider. He lives outside of civilization, outside of the fences. Thus he lives without the structure, the rules, and the protection of conventional life. Whether it is by choice, by force, or by chance, the cowboy is removed from the city and becomes at peace with nature. The cowboy, then, must seek outside means for his prosper and justice. He must resort to crime; the laws of civilization and the courts do not apply to him as an outsider. The concept of Jews is evident in the portrayal of the cowboy; a character rejected by society, an outcast who must side step to the American Dream, or justice as is often the case for a cowboy.

The gangster film evolved under the same pattern, but with evolution comes complexity. The gangster, still an outsider, still outcast by society; lives in the "underworld." He resorts to illegal, immoral means to accomplish the American Dream. The gangster, shadowing life in that era, has been removed from nature; his vast horizon has been receding drastically. The cowboy has become nearly extinct, but the gangster represents a new kind of cowboy, a cowboy in the city. He trades in his horse, his extended hand loses shape, and his blue sky creeps under cover. In return, Hollywood pens him a chauffeured car, a disposable killing instrument (the "machine" gun was a popular selection), and dim, artificial lights. Life for our hero has become less spiritual and more business-like, paralleling the real world it shadows.

Gangsters, however, were not solely motivated by money, as the need to be powerful, to "be somebody," in their outcast world was a counterpart to the rise-and-fall plots of gangster films. This idea stemmed from the attitude in society following the depression, the time period that gangster films prospered. It was a period of testing the American Dream, of questioning the traditional institutions of society, such as the bank. Gangster films offered Americans a separate view and route, one that complimented the anti-system beliefs of Americans. Where before a man strove for his personal justice, to dismiss the past, to clear his conscious in order to live at peace in a land of tranquility, there are organized groups of killers, scheming and murdering to make money and rise. Nonetheless, we love and sympathize with our gangster as equally as the free-spirited cowboy. Life has changed and so has the hero. But the concept is the same, an outsider creating his own system for "success."

The film, "Stagecoach," directed by John Ford, is a simple story about a ride from Tonto to Bisbee, Arizona. But the elements of the cowboy film are dense and easily detectable. Ringo Kid, played by a young John Wayne, is our cowboy. He is introduced as an outsider, as he joins the coach outside of the city, a known fugitive. He sits apart from the rest within the coach, he speaks little but when he does, it is respected, "with quiet authority in a man so young." The cowboy is admired, he is dangerous, and he is wild. During the ride, Ringo is always juxtaposed against the country through the window behind him. We see the horizon through him; that is where he belongs. Ringo seeks justice and knows it can only come through crime, the law is not intended for him and he must take it upon himself and bring justice to him and his family.

The film, "My Darling Clementine," also directed by John Ford, follows the same format. Wyatt Earp, played by a youngish Henry Fonda, and his two brothers take on policing Tombstone, Arizona, a blossoming town, a town with future, because they are at odds with the past. The Earp's are actually invited, welcomed by society, but they know they do not belong in the city, and dream of steering cattle and the freedom it affords . They have no desire for money, just freedom. In fact, to this point, the American Dream is an afterthought to the cowboys. It exists around them, but only avenging the death of their younger brother is of any great consequence. Wyatt, as sheriff, takes it upon himself to settle the score of the past. Both "Stagecoach" and "My Darling Clementine" are based on the same idea of personal freedom, physically and mentally, and crime is their motor.

Enter the gangster film, years later, society evolved, film evolved. The gangster, removed from nature, no longer a spiritual-minded man, sees business as the future. The American Dream is bright. The gangsters are an organization of outsiders gathered to commit crime for wealth. "The Godfather," directed by Francis Coppolla, follows the rising of Michael Corleone, played by a young Al Pacino, who is the youngest son to the powerful Don Corleone, or the Godfather. Michael has left the family business and entered into American society, gaining access through his war efforts. He is innocent; "The kid's clean captain…He's a war hero, and he's never been mixed up in the rackets." Michael has chosen to go straight, to pursue the American Dream legitimately, but through the course of the film, we see that he cannot escape his family ties; his gangster blood. Much like the cowboy cannot escape his nomadic spirit or his past, Michael is vacuumed into the organization when he protects his father, and takes shape as the heir to the Godfather position when he murders two high players in the underworld stage, which in dismissingly and indisputably connects him to the business.

Like Ringo Kid is juxtaposed to the country, Michael is juxtaposed to the Don's window, a symbolic form of light and a throne-like position in the office and home. The scene from "My Darling Clementine" that depicts Wyatt teetering in his chair between the shadows of civilization and the broad land in the distance, the shadow dark and the distance bright, reveals the same idea, that out there is where he belongs. Michael rises under the counsel of his weakening father, and with his anticipated death, he inherits the role of Godfather. By the end of the film, we see that Michael has transformed completely from his straight-laced military ways to full-fledged disgraceful crime boss, murdering even his sister's husband, father to his Godson, to seemingly rise economically.

In Michael's defense, it seems to me that his motives were more personal than economic, which despite family and business ethic and favorable upshots, allows the audience to respect and sympathize with him and brings us back to the cowboy. It seems that even through the complexity that has developed, the values of the cowboy have not been lost, and the concepts and goals of the Jews are still integral and in effect. We still see an outsider. We see a man who needs to avenge the past. When he murders Sollozzo and the dirty police chief, he holds onto the gun, against extensive coaching. He is a military man, taught to value his weapon, to love and become at one with his gun, like the cowboy naturally does. He has not grasped the ideology of the gangster yet. He is more spiritual and an intelligent, "Ivy League" man. He desires justice, like the cowboy. However, by the end, he has taken a cynical attitude and appearance. At the Christening, he is juxtaposed or paralleled with Satan, as his words, "I do denounce Him," are voice-overs to the murders he orchestrated. It is a scene I do not know would be seen with the cowboys or with the films of the Jews; it seems to be a "New" American conclusion, a Hollywood ending. Because Michael has lost his spiritual, moral grounding and taken a new, decadent shape, it allows for the sequel, the rising of the next Godfather, and it satisfies the post depression expectations in society. Nonetheless and again, the concepts still seamed together.

As the plots and themes evolved, so did the camerawork. And as plots became more complex, so did the mechanics. The audience became more sophisticated. It is clear that among the cinematic properties, editing underwent the most significant change and improvement from cowboy to gangster film. Whereas the western mastered the technique of cross-cutting, showing the bad guy, black hat then good guy, white hat rhythmically, thus allowing easy depiction of the shooting scenes, the gangster film created the montage. Surely audiences became accustomed to and bored of the simple cross-cutting, films then needed a spice, flair of convolution to change speeds. The montage offered that, as it played with direction of movement, the length of shots, and the shape of objects within the frame in order to manipulate the mind. By varying the latter elements, the mind experiences disharmony; tension is evoked and thus creates a more complex and confusing scene in the film. For example, in "The Godfather," the scene in which Don Corleone is shot, direction moves up and down, characters run from right to left, the takes are very short, quick cuts to confuse the action. Shapes contradict one another. All is done to create a chaotic sense, the idea being to disguise the shooters from the audience, to create turmoil about what is occurring, in turn creating suspense and drama. With cross-cutting this is not possible, but for that time period and that amateur audience, the shooting was suspense enough.

Lighting also plays an important role in each film, and seems to parallel the personas of the characters as well as show the difference in lifestyle of the cowboy and gangster. The cowboy film offers bright, vivid natural light to the cowboy in his vast home, Monument Valley of the Southwest was Ford's favorite setting, the blue sky and the colorful land lit by a natural, spirited light. Indoors, the dimness reveals the dark, vulnerability of the cowboy within the city. On the other hand, the gangster film is lit almost entirely in artificial light, offering dimness to the isolated and somber gangster in his indoor refuge. Outdoors is his vulnerable state, and lit to brightness which seems to me to be again spiritual, like the light of God judging and sentencing his immoral acts, after all, this is where he is most often killed.

The only cinematic element that remains fully in tact is the use of low angles on the protagonist. From John Wayne and Wyatt and his brothers to Don, Consigliere, Sonny and eventually Michael we see low angles used to depict larger-than-life figures. When Wyatt is introduced directing his cattle, he is shot from almost ground level and appears gigantic on screen, creating the ideal image of the wild and dangerous cowboy, an almost fairy-tale character. Ringo is always shot low; in a station en route to Bisbee, he is shot beneath the table, creating an effect of claustrophobia indoors, the roof appeared to be pressing down over his shoulders. Similarly, the conversation in Don's office between Sonny and Tom Hagen uses low angles to spotlight the commanding speaker and ultimately ends with Michael as the central figure; Coppolla complements this with a specially slow-motion close-up shot to Michael, allowing Sonny and Tom time to form around him and thus giving him his first appearance as a Godfather.

The cowboy film and the gangster film are American movies that seem to underscore Jewish ideals. Arguably, "The Great Train Robbery," by Edwin S. Porter, which was the first action film that depicted murder and is classified as the first western, was made before the Jews began their production. However, it seems to me that the cowboys in that film were "bad guys," villains rather than glorified heroes, and the ideals behind the hero are absent. It is merely entertainment with shallow action. Movies like "A Trip to the Moon," by George Meiles, and obviously the revolutionary work of the Lumiere brothers are simply surface action, entertainment without redeeming purpose. The Jewish pioneers seem to have introduced emotion, an attitude, principles and values to film, greatly in part to the story they had to tell; the truth behind their dreams was mirrored in their stories. However, when the popularity of Jewish films increased, the same business sense that helped them discover and augment film began to make a formula out of it, somewhat tarnishing its value. Complimenting a system of studios and stars established to industrialize film was a system of genres, or popular story types that would attract wider, American audiences. They took their concepts and made them American, adding happy endings and picture-perfect actors to attract mainstream viewers.

Films today have strayed from the old concepts of early films like the western and the gangster. Late blockbusters such as "American Beauty," "Fight Club," and "Fargo," among many others, seem to take protagonists who are hardly prototype actors or archetypical figures, from inside the system, not outsiders, and bring them out to some sort of illicitness. The message is now outside of the American Dream; a "new" dream is forming, which is reconstructing the protagonist we glorify in many recent films. (And of course there are directors like Stanley Kubrick and David Lynch who spend years on a project to bring their theories, their emotions, their insight and their intelligence to life through wonderful camerawork and photography, who understand, respect and integrate the ideas of film greats).

"Generation X" has an in-between, nothing and everything type of attitude. Film reflects that: all-inclusive, no set themes, a free-for-all mesh of violence and comedy and illicit romance, of right and wrong, good and bad, like Quentin Tarantino's "Reservoir Dogs," "Pulp Fiction," and "From Dusk Til Dawn," for example. Film is clearly a model for way of life, as we follow its leads and mirror its appearance, or vice versa. Jewish and American businessmen have capitalized on the idea for decades. However, whereas films once represented a sort of means for success and assimilation, now they are simply a means for success. There is very little good outside entertainment in many of the films being produced; they are coming off an assembly line in Hollywood. Why? There is no vision anymore, no greater purpose, no pioneering spirit. They are made to make money, not a difference in peoples' lives. There are exceptions, of course, but when film began, it was the rule. What does that mean exactly? I don't know. It is just something that occurred to me.