How many vague descriptions we will abandon the day a class can watch, projected on precise and moving images, the calm or troubled faces of a deliberating assembly, the meeting of chiefs of state ready to sign an alliance, the departure of troops and squadrons, or even the mobile and changing physiognomy of cities. (Matuszewski, 1997:1) The enthusiasm evinced by Boleslas Matuszewski about moving pictures as the basis for a vast historical image archive, dates back to the very early years of film’s history. Although as an unemployed cameraman Matuszewski may have had self-interested reasons for promoting film, his 1898 description anticipates what has become a common-place notion about the power of film. Rather than the vague descriptions fostered by the written word, film would show rather than tell. Underlying this attitude is a naive faith that photographic images are somehow less ambiguous and more direct than words because they are indexical and thus bear a literal trace of a person or object that was present in the world. In that way, photography and film are thought not to represent but to bear witness. As a result, they fulfill the dream of every historian – to somehow be present in the past. The last hundred years have also produced much discussion aimed at unsettling just such easy notions about the “directness” of the photographic image. This perspective, by contrast, suggests that showing can be just as ambiguous as telling. Few forms of narrative and documentation have simultaneously stirred as much utopian fantasy and eye-rolling dismissal as history on film. There are so many dimensions to any consideration of the connection between Film and History that to attempt to analyze this vexed relation is, in the end, to discuss several different and not always over-lapping issues. Yet where film and history themselves overlap, it is because of an ontological similarity between them. After all, both film and history claim to bear a reference or relation to the real world in somewhat literal ways; both are also fundamentally concerned with issues of temporality. History and film can be thought to share the common project of presenting us, as Phil Rosen put it, with “an absence, namely that of the represented past” (Rosen, 1984: 31). But if there is an ontological relation, such questions have largely escaped the majority of historians who are more interested in the stories they tell than in the ways they tell stories. But rather than stress the disciplinary divisions as the fundamental divide in considerations of film and history, this essay maps four areas of intersection between film and history that transcend mere distinction in field of study. Just as this essay suggests it is time to move the discussion away from who has the “right” to adjudicate representations of the past, it also suggests that anyone interested in the intersection
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