Re-creating the Gaze: Peter Whitehead's Cinema and the Films of Others

Abstract

Back to Sixties It was in Sixties that twentieth century faced up to itself, casting offthe guardianship and moral blackmail of preceding century and cultivating, with arrogance and bravado, seeds of negativity, monstrosity and indecency which it had borne for so long- embarrassedly, almost guiltily- between wars. It was in Sixties that twentieth century decreed, without slightest regret, that language of simplicity, innocence, purity and loyalty was to be excluded from life, while understanding and knowledge of evil, perversity, pretense and trickery had made us all protagonists. Cesare Garboli Perhaps what Garboli meant is that in sixties, through development of media in general and cinema in par tic u lar, we learned to read world in all its complexity and truth, to decode reality in its endless game of fiction and appearances, to establish a credible dialogue between mise- en- scene and society. It is no coincidence that this all took place amid a powerful and unpre ce dented cultural and social clash, which brought to light a series of patterns, behaviors, and knowledge until then considered to be neither feasible nor accessible at mass level: generational disobedience, a new way to describe and encourage the coming of new, invisible minorities finally visible, a multicultural horizon suddenly expanded to include Eastern and African practices, a visionary and mobilizing new brand of and roll (which would find its dangerous synthesis in rock movie), endless rounds of drugs and a new sense of identity, as well as new fears that were growing in looming shadow of nuclear war, and of a consumerism colonizing burgeoning suburbs. It is in these tempestuous and unpredictable times that we encounter figure and films of Peter Whitehead, whose original contribution- a unique interpretation of cinematic image, and hence of filmmaking- is little known. Here, I analyze specifically: path he followed; films that influenced him and led him to make such radical choices along way; critical reflection and professional experiences that drew him in deeper and deeper, until confrontation and final defeat of The Fall; and his 1969 film about America and movement, which so destroyed him, physically and morally (not to mention eco nom ical ly), that he decided to leave filmmaking. Whitehead's curious and in many ways exemplary story begins with his childhood in Liverpool: his father (a plumber, like Joe Cocker's) returned from war a broken man, only to die a few years later. It is a tale that leads back to other stories and quotes, to other more or less mythical people, starting with John Lennon, also from Liverpool, also fatherless, also in love with music and cinema, and also increasingly sympathetic to movement and youth of sixties. But I'm thinking, too, of Roger Waters, leader and creative mind of Pink Floyd (after Sid Barrett's exit), who wasn't from Liverpool but had an identical path: an absent father, art school in Cambridge, and a passion for experimental music. Except, having rejected science, theater, and art, Whitehead- as he has said himself- chose film partly by accident and partly to avoid death. Carrie and William Wyler Looking back on it all, I would say there were two very significant things that made me become a filmmaker, two quite different experiences. One was a film I saw when I was twelve or thirteen. My father had died. I was living with my mother in a council flat in Wandsworth, and went along to see a film at local Granada, one eve ning, alone. It was a film called Carrie, based on a novel by Theodore Dreiser, starring Jennifer Jones and Laurence Olivier. It's about a young girl from country who comes up to city, wants to be an actress, meets this distinguished gentleman, and basically destroys him and becomes a successful actress. …