REVIEWS 763 by avant-garde camera operators during the 1920s. Cavendish is particularly attentive to the cameraman’s lighting choices. He points out, for example, that the intense ‘natural’ beauty of the apples in Dovzhenko’s Earth was the product of Demuts´kyi’s skill with artificial lights, mirrors, and the monocle (single-element soft-focus) lens (p. 274), while Tisse’s use in The General Line of ‘core lighting’ (‘sources striking the face from the sides and slightly from the rear’) was intended to add drama and ‘an impression of naturalism’ to the faces of the untrained actors the practice of typage had brought onto the set (p. 109). Seeking to soften the focus of his portrait shots, Golovnia placed a thin layer of gauze over the lens at times in Mat´ (p. 149). Anybody who teaches early Soviet film will want to consult Cavendish’s detailed, technical descriptions of the devices employed by particular cameramen for particular films. Indeed, attentive description is Cavendish’s forte, and for the most part he avoids interpretation, almost as if answering Susan Sontag’s plea in Against Interpretation for ‘essays which reveal the sensuous surface of art without mucking about in it’ (New York, 1966). As a final note, there are forty-seven small illustrations included between the Conclusion and the Filmography, but with a book of this kind, which pays such close attention to visual details, many more illustrations would have been very welcome and helpful. Without images to which a reader can refer, some of Cavendish’s descriptions and comparisons fall flat (through no fault of their own). We are given no frames at all, for example, from Evreiskoe schast´e, which means that Cavendish’s comparison of Tisse’s work on this film to his work on Bronenosets Potemkin (a comparison made tempting by the use in both films of the Odessa Steps) is particularly hard to follow. It would have been lovely, though undoubtedly expensive, to have the illustrations embedded, with helpful captions, in the text, to help the reader understand the different ‘signatures’ of these masterful and creative cameramen, finally given the attention they deserve in this excellent and inspiring book. Department of Slavic Languages and Literatures Anne Nesbet Department of Film and Media University of California, Berkeley Portuges, Catherine and Hames, Peter (eds). Cinemas in Transition in Central and Eastern Europe after 1989. Temple University Press, Philadelphia, PA, 2013. viii + 279 pp. Notes. Index. $94.50. Beginning with Wajda’s trailblazing war trilogy, East and Central European cinema enjoyed a relative international vogue through the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s, distinguished by formal audacity, subtle symbolism and political critique. SEER, 92, 4, OCTOBER 2014 764 Catherine Portuges and Peter Hames’s new collection, Cinemas in Transition in Central and Eastern Europe after 1989, explores what happened once that international spotlight dimmed on the region’s cinema — an era ironically coinciding with renewed openness and reintegration with the West. This thorough investigation of institutional and artistic changes reveals that the dismantling of the Communist system has often presented filmmakers with hindrances as grave as the ‘repressive’ apparatus of old, and that globalization and economic ‘freedom’ have brought threats of cultural uniformity. Yet the potential pessimism is offset by a sense of the resilient vitality of the cinemas and film cultures described. As one contributor puts it here, locally made movies ‘still matter’ to their native audiences, even if filmmakers no longer enjoy ‘demigod’ status and no longer address viewers with the imperious highart authority of the past. Eight chapters cover eight different cinematic contexts, each written by an appropriate scholarly expert (Portuges and Hames themselves cover Hungarian and Czech and Slovak cinema respectively). Half of these contexts do not exist in the same national configuration as they did before 1989, and if the inclusion of a reunified East Germany may seem contentious, Barton Byg’s chapter not only takes as its central question the continued existence of ‘East German cinema’ but convincingly detects a dark, interrogative and reflexive — if not always geographically grounded — residue of the ‘East’ in contemporary German film. Shared characteristics are evident between the contexts explored. Clearly the transition to capitalism has been plagued by...