Best books about filmmaking?

Look, this guy Tasha just puts out some pretty pictures and calls it a day. That's really all there is to it.

I usually just skip right past his stuff.

Amanda Nguyen5 said:Look, this guy Tasha just puts out some pretty pictures and calls it a day. That's really all there is to it.

I usually just skip right past his stuff.

Taschen isn't just about aesthetics, and it’s certainly not this being hailed as the film book of the year.

Yellow Submarine is absolute garbage. Bringing back yellow submarine vibes is basically bringing back pure trash.

Garbage or not, that's really a matter of opinion. The reality is that Yellow Submarine is the only book of its kind available here in the States. For instance, I found Visionary film: the American avant-garde, 1943–2000 by Adams Sitney to be an incredibly tedious and exhausting read, yet I don't feel the need to call it garbage or dismiss someone else's hard work and the entire community of avant-garde fans just because that specific movement doesn't happen to be my cup of tea 🤷. So, I'll be skipping your take on this (at least regarding the book itself 😁).

Just a few notable film books released in 2009:

Furnish a Room: surveying film books of 2009

- “Farber on Film: The Complete Film Writings of Manny Farber” (Library of America, $40)
- “Everything is Cinema; The Working Life Of Jean-Luc Godard” (Metropolitan, $40)
- “Robert Altman: The Oral Biography” (Knopf, $25)
- “Conquest of the Useless: Reflections from the Making of ‘Fitzcarraldo’” (Ecco, $25)
- “Paul Newman: A Life” (Harmony, $30)

The Best Movie-Related Books:

- Conversations with Wilder by Cameron Crowe
- Getting Away With It: Or: The Further Adventures of the Luckiest Bastard You Ever Saw by Steven Soderbergh
- The Name Above The Title by Frank Capra
- An Open Book by John Huston
- Scorsese on Scorsese (Directors on Directors) by Ian Christie
- Who the Devil Made It: Conversations with Legendary Film Directors by Peter Bogdanovich
- Martin Scorsese: Interviews (Interviews With Filmmakers Series) by Peter Brunette
- Hitchcock's Notebooks: An Authorized And Illustrated Look Inside The Creative Mind Of Alfred Hitchcock by Dan Auiler
- Hitchcock (Revised Edition) by Francois Truffant
- The Kid Stays in the Picture by Robert Evans
- Adventures in the Screen Trade by William Goldman

Other useful links:

Furnish a Room: surveying film books of 2009
Best film books of 2009
Must-Own Film Books (including some suggestions from the comments)
The Absolute Best Film Books of 2009, Part II
Cinemabooks.net
Cinema Books



Used and Out-of-Print Film Literature
Updates from Cinema Books


Hong Kong cinema titles


Film & Cinema Books

---

Happy New Year to everyone—wishing you all the best and hoping your 2010 is filled with plenty of great reads.

🙂

@Amanda Nguyen5

Sorry about my previous post, I’m clearly celebrating a little too hard right now 😁. Anyway, the Dumont shipment should be arriving in early January.

.

Christian Taylor3 said:Taschen isn't just about aesthetics, and it’s certainly not this being hailed as the film book of the year.

Yellow Submarine is absolute garbage. Bringing back yellow submarine vibes is basically bringing back pure trash.

Garbage or not, that's really a matter of opinion. The reality is that Yellow Submarine is the only book of its kind available here in the States. For instance, I found Visionary film: the American avant-garde, 1943–2000 by Adams Sitney to be an incredibly tedious and exhausting read, yet I don't feel the need to call it garbage or dismiss someone else's hard work and the entire community of avant-garde fans just because that specific movement doesn't happen to be my cup of tea 🤷. So, I'll be skipping your take on this (at least regarding the book itself 😁).

Just a few notable film books released in 2009:

Furnish a Room: surveying film books of 2009

- “Farber on Film: The Complete Film Writings of Manny Farber” (Library of America, $40)
- “Everything is Cinema; The Working Life Of Jean-Luc Godard” (Metropolitan, $40)
- “Robert Altman: The Oral Biography” (Knopf, $25)
- “Conquest of the Useless: Reflections from the Making of ‘Fitzcarraldo’” (Ecco, $25)
- “Paul Newman: A Life” (Harmony, $30)

The Best Movie-Related Books:

- Conversations with Wilder by Cameron Crowe
- Getting Away With It: Or: The Further Adventures of the Luckiest Bastard You Ever Saw by Steven Soderbergh
- The Name Above The Title by Frank Capra
- An Open Book by John Huston
- Scorsese on Scorsese (Directors on Directors) by Ian Christie
- Who the Devil Made It: Conversations with Legendary Film Directors by Peter Bogdanovich
- Martin Scorsese: Interviews (Interviews With Filmmakers Series) by Peter Brunette
- Hitchcock's Notebooks: An Authorized And Illustrated Look Inside The Creative Mind Of Alfred Hitchcock by Dan Auiler
- Hitchcock (Revised Edition) by Francois Truffant
- The Kid Stays in the Picture by Robert Evans
- Adventures in the Screen Trade by William Goldman

Other useful links:

Furnish a Room: surveying film books of 2009
Best film books of 2009
Must-Own Film Books (including some suggestions from the comments)
The Absolute Best Film Books of 2009, Part II
Cinemabooks.net
Cinema Books



Used and Out-of-Print Film Literature
Updates from Cinema Books


Hong Kong cinema titles


Film & Cinema Books

---

Happy New Year to everyone—wishing you all the best and hoping your 2010 is filled with plenty of great reads.

🙂

@Amanda Nguyen5

Sorry about my previous post, I’m clearly celebrating a little too hard right now 😁. Anyway, the Dumont shipment should be arriving in early January.

- Go ahead and celebrate, it’s high time for some festivities.
- I’m looking forward to Dumont this winter even more than a gourmet Panettone from a fancy bakery in NYC.
- Tashen’s "Kubrick-Napoleon" was probably named book of the year (if you say so, I have no reason to doubt you) simply because it’s the first one on that subject. At least as far as I know. I'm not against books like that. But if I had to choose between Chatman’s book on Antonioni and some (pretty, but useless) snapshots from the set of "The Adventures," then Tashen still loses out.
- Now, "Yellow Subtitle" is a completely different beast. Tashen is a solid writer if that's your thing, but "Yellow Subtitle" is just a bad book, even if you actually care about that subject matter. I don't love the avant-garde either, but I’m generally down to read a good book about it. In fact, every new insight moves my belief in the avant-garde from 2.4% up to 2.6%. But "Yellow Subtitle"—and I am saying this for the last time—is a bad book, even if you are interested in the topic. And I read the whole thing, start to finish. Just because it's the only one available doesn't mean I have to respect it.

Hey everyone,
So, like the title suggests, I’m on a mission to track down this book for my nephew.
Now, look, I'm definitely not an expert in this field—far from it—and honestly, I wasn't quite sure where else to turn, but since this group is packed with genuine film buffs, I figured this was my best bet.
If anyone happens to have a copy they could lend me for just a few days, I would be incredibly grateful. My attempts at hunting this down through the local public library system have been a total wash, and frankly, I'm running out of ideas.

On another note, any advice regarding film and television directing programs would be much appreciated too, just so I can pass some solid info along to him.

Thanks so much in advance for the help and any info you can share. Best regards!
👍

You might have some luck hunting through old used bookstores in Chicago. Why don't you check here? I know for a fact they had a copy available just two or three weeks ago.

By the way, this topic has actually been brought up before. 🙂

Richard Rivera22 said:Hey everyone,
So, like the title suggests, I’m on a mission to track down this book for my nephew.
Now, look, I'm definitely not an expert in this field—far from it—and honestly, I wasn't quite sure where else to turn, but since this group is packed with genuine film buffs, I figured this was my best bet.
If anyone happens to have a copy they could lend me for just a few days, I would be incredibly grateful. My attempts at hunting this down through the local public library system have been a total wash, and frankly, I'm running out of ideas.

On another note, any advice regarding film and television directing programs would be much appreciated too, just so I can pass some solid info along to him.

Thanks so much in advance for the help and any info you can share. Best regards!
👍

One really needs to arm themselves with an immense amount of patience and steady nerves. From what I’ve gathered through conversations with folks who have sat through these admissions interviews, the faculty tends to enjoy a bit of a challenge—they like to test you. If you’ve clearly spent your life immersed in cinema, they might grill you on some incredibly obscure technical details or niche directors. Conversely, if you haven't, they’ll pivot to probing your actual motivations and interests. The key is simply to remain authentic and not let them rattle you during the process.
I assume they already have a clear idea of everything they need to prepare for the entrance exam?

Thanks, Christian Taylor3. I actually already gave them a ring and hit up a few different used bookstores, including that one, so that lead is pretty much a dead end.
@ Dennis Cooper3, thanks for the heads-up. That guy pretty much knows the ropes—he’s been over at the university a few times poking around and asking questions, plus he’s part of a local film club. He just asked if I could track down the book online and maybe grab some pointers from folks currently in the program or those who have already tried applying.

Richard Rivera22 said:Thanks, Christian Taylor3. I actually already gave them a ring and hit up a few different used bookstores, including that one, so that lead is pretty much a dead end.
@ Dennis Cooper3, thanks for the heads-up. That guy pretty much knows the ropes—he’s been over at the university a few times poking around and asking questions, plus he’s part of a local film club. He just asked if I could track down the book online and maybe grab some pointers from folks currently in the program or those who have already tried applying.

As it happens, I am also a member of the film society myself, and I actually own that book. 😁
I just need to find where I tucked it away somewhere.

Dennis Cooper3 said:As it happens, I am also a member of the film society myself, and I actually own that book. 😁
I just need to find where I tucked it away somewhere.

So, there's a real chance you two have crossed paths before or maybe even worked on something together. Seriously, if you find that book, lend it to me—I'll happily buy you a round of beers while you scan it. I'll give him a call, you guys can geek out over movies and whatever else, and I'll just head my own way. Sound like a plan?🙏

Christian Taylor3 said:@Mark Wood79

Of course I'm not going to get worked up about it, so why would I? 🤷 Besides, those PDF previews are mostly just there to give you a quick look—you know, skim the table of contents on your laptop to see if it's actually worth your time before you pull the trigger and buy it. To be honest, about 90% of the PDFs floating around this thread are already sitting on my actual bookshelf (all bought legally, I promise). I always appreciate everyone else's suggestions, but at the end of the day, I'm the best judge of what I actually want to read. 🙂

I haven't gotten my hands on *World Film Directors: Volume One 1890-1945* or *Volume Two 1945-1985* yet, nor have I read them; I'm currently hunting down some decent reviews.

Speaking of which, I've got a little something arriving for Christmas:

*Bambi vs Godzilla* by David Mamet
*William Goldman’s Adventures in the Screen Trade*
*Conversations with Wilder*, by Cameron Crowe (though my copy somehow ended up with a friend. Pro tip: never lend books, especially not to friends or acquaintances)
*John Ford* by Joseph McBride and Michael Wilmington
*Cronenberg on Cronenberg*, by Chris Rodley
*Notes on the Cinematographer*, by Robert Bresson
*Who the Devil Made It?*, by Peter Bogdanovich

🙂

It's kind of like being at a wedding 😁 where I basically hand out a checklist to my friends and family ahead of time: No socks, no CDs, no DVDs—just give me books! 🙂 It's no wonder they all affectionately call me "The Book Nazi." 😬

What incredible books. Especially the Bresson one.

There was a period in my life where I wouldn't go anywhere without two specific books tucked away. They were my perfect travel companions.
One was this Bresson volume, and the other was my personal bible—Buñuel’s autobiography. It reads almost as if Mordecai Richler wrote it, only better. It’s the kind of book you can pull out for any occasion or use to answer just about any question.
For instance, if someone happens to ask how Buñuel could be my "bible" or what my views are on God and Catholic mysticism, I automatically respond by quoting Luis: "I'm an atheist, thank God."

I don't own either of them anymore. I lost the Bresson, and I gave the Buñuel to a wonderful old gentleman in Chicago after we spent talking about film and realized he hadn't actually read it.

brightdriver75 said:What incredible books. Especially the Bresson one.

There was a period in my life where I wouldn't go anywhere without two specific books tucked away. They were my perfect travel companions.
One was this Bresson volume, and the other was my personal bible—Buñuel’s autobiography. It reads almost as if Mordecai Richler wrote it, only better. It’s the kind of book you can pull out for any occasion or use to answer just about any question.
For instance, if someone happens to ask how Buñuel could be my "bible" or what my views are on God and Catholic mysticism, I automatically respond by quoting Luis: "I'm an atheist, thank God."

I don't own either of them anymore. I lost the Bresson, and I gave the Buñuel to a wonderful old gentleman in Chicago after we spent talking about film and realized he hadn't actually read it.

Conversations with Wilder Honestly, it’s actually worth picking up—it's a fascinating read.

Just a little warm-up:

I spent nearly a year fruitlessly trying to track down Wilder. Even at eighty-nine, and with a filmography that hasn't seen a new entry in fifteen years, he maintains this incredibly disciplined, quiet routine in Beverly Hills. Every couple of days, you can see him making the trek from his house to a small, wood-paneled office tucked away on a sleepy side street that honestly feels more like a quiet corner of Greenwich Village than anything else. His days are predictably modest—answering a phone call here or there, grabbing lunch with an old pal, and then retreating back home. It wasn't until one day in 1995 that the breakthrough finally happened via one of the master’s cigar-smoking buddies, who dropped the bombshell that Wilder would actually sit down with me the following Tuesday at 10:30 in the morning.

I showed up way ahead of schedule, though it didn't really amount to anything since Wilder was nowhere to be found. I tried knocking on the office door, but got absolutely nothing. I had this vintage poster of *The Apartment* tucked in an envelope, along with a Sharpie just to make things easy for him to sign, but there was no point in hovering inside. I ended up just sitting on his front steps, waiting around until about 12:30, and I was just about ready to call it a day and head home when I finally caught sight of him. He was rounding the corner from a nearby alley, looking pretty sharp in a stylish beanie, making his way right toward me.

"Listen, Mr. Wilder," I told him, "it's me, Cameron Crowe."

"What can I do for you?" he barked, his thick New York accent cutting right through my prepared little speech. He started scanning the desk for paperwork to sign, which pretty much killed any hope I had of maintaining that aura of professional authority I’d spent all morning cultivating. Apparently, he just took me for some delivery guy. Once I cleared up the fact that we actually had a scheduled appointment, he turned a shade of red I didn't think was possible. He was visibly flustered, clearly having completely blanked on the meeting, but he managed to stammer out an invitation into his office. I trailed after him up the stairs and into this stuffy, cramped room that was decorated with a handful of random paintings but lacked even a single souvenir from his legendary film career. The only thing of note was a small sign hanging above the door, a nod to his old mentor, which simply asked: HOW WOULD CAPRA DO IT?

There sat the legendary Billy Wilder, perched in some tiny little chair, peering at me through those heavy frames of his. He was busy fussing around with an old-school fountain pen while I sat there trying to sound important, explaining that I was a writer and director about to dive into my third feature. I even dropped *The Apartment* into the conversation, just to see if he’d bite.

"Nice shot," he remarked.

"It's my absolute favorite," I replied, feeling a rare surge of unearned pride.

He paused for a second, thinking it over, before saying, "Mine, too." So, I handed him my poster to sign. He took one look at it and just said, "Jack Lemmon," like it was the only thing that mattered. I just nodded, feeling that deep, unspoken connection between two people who truly get it. Honestly, if you’ve ever seen *The Apartment*, there isn't much else to say—we were on the same wavelength. Billy Wilder even remarked that they practically wrote the whole thing specifically for Lemmon, giving a nod to his legendary writing partner, I.A.L. Diamond. Then, he added a little wistful note about Shirley MacLaine, mentioning how she was pretty much a nonentity back then. He gripped the pen, stared down the poster, and concluded that they simply had the perfect cast, and because of that, it all just clicked.

"Honestly, I couldn't picture anyone else stepping into that role besides Shirley MacLaine," I remarked, feeling a genuine sense of awe.

"Not happening," the old guy barked at me. "And don't expect me to come up with some witty little slogan for your poster, either." He made me repeat my name one more time before he took his time signing the thing, making sure to include the date. Honestly, it was probably best that way—it was definitely time for me to head out.

"I've decided there’s a specific role I need you to play in my upcoming film," I announced, probably with far more unearned confidence than anyone actually expected from me.

"I'm not putting on an act," he shot back, sounding a little too eager to convince me. "There's just no way I'm doing that."

Honestly, it’s really just a tiny piece of the whole puzzle.

"Then count me out," he snapped back. It was one of those moments where you’re suddenly hit with the realization that you're sitting across from someone whose wit could rival any legendary screenwriter in Hollywood history. Sensing a glimmer of hope, I kept pushing the role on him, trying to find an angle that would stick, and after a few more minutes of back-and-forth, he just gave a little shrug. "Fine, send me the script. I might be interested."

I basically floated out of there, only to circle back later to drop off two incredibly rare cigars for him. By then, he’d already headed out, so I just left a little note that said, "To your acting debut." Fast forward a few months to when I finally wrapped up the last draft of the script, and sure enough, Wilder's agent reached out to confirm they'd actually talked about this acting gig—and apparently, Wilder was pretty stoked about taking on his very first role. Honestly, with Wilder playing Dicky Fox, the whole heart of the film was just pure gold.

The Jerry Maguire Journal.

brightdriver75 said:What incredible books. Especially the Bresson one.

There was a period in my life where I wouldn't go anywhere without two specific books tucked away. They were my perfect travel companions.
One was this Bresson volume, and the other was my personal bible—Buñuel’s autobiography. It reads almost as if Mordecai Richler wrote it, only better. It’s the kind of book you can pull out for any occasion or use to answer just about any question.
For instance, if someone happens to ask how Buñuel could be my "bible" or what my views are on God and Catholic mysticism, I automatically respond by quoting Luis: "I'm an atheist, thank God."

I don't own either of them anymore. I lost the Bresson, and I gave the Buñuel to a wonderful old gentleman in Chicago after we spent talking about film and realized he hadn't actually read it.

I’m taking a look at the procurement process for your "personal bible," and I have to say, it sounds incredibly intriguing. I'm assuming you're talking about this book here:



Sold.. 😁

Yeah, it really is. It absolutely should be.
It’s a fantastic read—packed with those little anecdotes, but also carrying that same sharp cynicism and irony you see in his movies.
Give it a read; you won't regret it.

You just need to sign up on Wikipedia and you're good to go. I was actually hunting for the Schirmer Encyclopedia of Film the other day. I thought it was way too pricey to buy outright, but I ended up getting to flip through the whole thing digitally thanks to Wikipedia (you know, for all my art, film, and entertainment deep dives).
As long as you play by the rules in this PDF, I highly recommend it.

So, what’s the verdict on this book?

http://www.amazon.com/Film-Aesthetics-Theory-Analysis/dp/B000000000

I was actually planning on picking up a copy later this week. 🙂 Sorry for digging this thread out of the archives and cluttering up the feed. 😁

That’s right.

And then there are the critics, who just sort of fade out

When a big-name actor kicks the bucket, there’s always this heavy, somber echo. Actors get this special pass—they get the spotlight in life and the eulogies in death. When a director dies, we immediately start composing a requiem. Film buffs and cult followers go into mourning. But a screenwriter? If they pass away, you’ll barely see a mention in the daily papers. Same goes for the composer. It feels like some weird oversight, or maybe a tiny smudge on our collective memory, where we somehow forget to honor the writers, the musicians, the editors, the makeup wizards, or the guys behind the practical effects and electronic tricks. Even the masters of the lens—those poets of light, the Rembrandts of celluloid—often find themselves without so much as a passing obituary.
As for film critics? Well, they die too, obviously. They can churn out hundreds of obituaries for moving image artists, but when they head off to the Great Beyond (where, presumably, they can finally watch movies and hang out with the legendary actors and directors they actually liked...), they vanish into a conspiracy of silence. No mention at all. It’s the same story here in America. Our domestic film criticism is basically just a mirror reflecting the chronic ailments of the American cinematic landscape.
But let's skip the useless, dreary mourning sessions. Let's head over to the States with a sense of genuine respect and sympathy for the passing of Pauline Kael, the undisputed queen of American film criticism. Her death back in 2001 was a massive, devastating blow to film criticism itself, and to cinema as a whole.
Pauline Kael (June 19, 1919 – September 3, 2001) was the legendary force behind *The New Yorker* from 1968 until she retired in 1991. She was a critical superstar, which was a rare breed even in America; her sharp, provocative columns were a North Star for intellectual cinephiles and devoted readers alike.
Kael’s prose had this electric energy to it. One moment her sentences were soaring in a euphoria of praise, and the next, they were turning into steel-edged fury born of disappointment. It grabbed you, annoyed you, seduced you, and pushed you.

Peter Matthews, a professor of film studies at Middlesex University, once described Kael’s writing as "Dionysian prose." Beyond being a clever metaphor, that term really gets to the heart of her approach. She was a passionate critic with a powerhouse personality. She possessed virtues and traits that most American film critics couldn't muster if their lives depended on it. Unlike the infamous Bosley Crowther over at *The New York Times*—who was essentially the chief executioner of American films from the 40s through the late 60s due to his fear of powerful producers—Kael had a broader vision, more sensitivity, and lacked that occasionally sadistic malice Crowther was known for.

Bertolucci as Stravinsky

Now, the fans of restraint, stuffiness, neutrality, and all those other hallmarks of "dead air" didn't care for her style or her way of looking at movies. She wasn't interested in playing it safe. She would watch a film exactly once and immediately drop a review. She maintained that exclusivity—which, let's be honest, isn't easy or even particularly advisable—throughout her entire career. She championed Altman, Scorsese, and Coppola, and she caused quite a stir with her take on the hardcore porn flick *Deep Throat*.

She didn't give a damn about trends or the "gods" of art house cinema. Someone like Antonioni or Resnais wouldn't catch her eye; to Kael, Resnais was just a common fraud in an ice palace (specifically regarding *Last Year at Marienbad*). She preferred the warm humanism of everyday life, much like the work of Renoir.

We recently caught *Last Tango in Paris* on TV. When Kael saw it back in 1972, she compared its importance and transformative power to Igor Stravinsky's *The Rite of Spring*. Comparing Bertolucci to Stravinsky? Plenty of people think that was just an iconoclastic critic's delusion, but that’s what she believed, that’s what she wrote, and she never took it back. With Pauline Kael, the golden age of twentieth-century American film criticism died.
In the US, Kael's influence was significant, though perhaps slightly less pervasive than her old rival Andrew Sarris. Today, however, her kind of influence is non-existent. That specific blend of personality, conviction, competence, dignity, and passion is completely missing from most modern American critics. On our networks, we mostly see paid promoters masquerading as critics. Writing about film today feels more like writing about fashion runways, jewelry, perfumes, or men's accessories than actual professional criticism. Instead, the field is dominated by greasy internet trolls and contributors to tabloid-style rags who try to pass off gossip as film analysis.

Honestly, to recover from such absolute garbage writing, I’m thinking we should grab a copy of Pauline Kael’s "I Lost It at the Movies" and pair it with some top-shelf cognac. Maybe then we can pray for some heavenly peace for poor Pauline.

peace out

If you’re looking for a way to describe this book with some level of blunt honesty, it’s pretty straightforward. It’s essentially a curated collection of seventy articles pulled from the massive mountain of stuff Aldo Paquola churned out during his marathon stint as a critic for the *New York Times*. And honestly, calling it a "marathon stint" is being generous—it was more like a relentless, decades-long siege. During those eras when repeating yourself felt less like a choice and more like an unwritten rule of journalism, Paquola’s tenure at the *Times*—which I believe kicked off back in the seventies or eighties—wasn't just consistent; it was bordering on megalomania. Or, if we want to be polite about it, pure, unadulterated persistence. But let's be real: without that kind of stubbornness, you don't get any semblance of social memory, let alone cultural memory. It might sound a bit heavy-handed, but you really can't avoid using that phrase here. The main reason is simply that every single one of these pieces is focused on one thing: movies...