Despite an off-putting title, The Film Snob*s Dictionary is an informative and hilarious read. A CliffsNotes of film for those looking to deepen their movie related conversations or get a quick refresher course. Chock full of directors and actors from Kenneth Anger to Steve Zahn, behind the scenes factoids, terms, and etiquette every “snob” should know. Did you know that Martin Scorcese has used a female editor, Thelma Schoonmaker for every film since Raging Bull in 1980? They met as film students at NYU. Or that true film geeks consider the third row to be the perfect viewing experience? Filmmaker Peter Kubelka took this ideal to a ridiculous level when he created The Invisble Cinema within New York’s Anthology Film Archives during the 70s. A place where the viewer could sit in a little pod, and have no interaction with other viewers around them (see: here). I’m just happy to get a seat in the back and some nachos.
The book is pretty thorough yet there were two directors that immediately came to mind that I feel were left out. Alexander Jodorowsky, the Spanish auteur whose films are a mix of allegory, loony (see: drug fueled?) incomprehensible narratives, and striking imagery. His devoted fans included John Lennon, Yoko Ono, and more recently Marilyn Manson. The second is Gaspar Noe, whose super fans praise him for his stunning visuals, confrontational nature and willingness to repulse the viewer over and over and over ad nauseam (see: Irreversible’s rape scene or Enter the Void’s car crash scene). I found watching Enter the Void to be an exercise in torture yet I overheard another viewer exclaim “I want to watch that all over again, right now!”. No fucking thanks! In the authors’ defense I can only imagine the daunting task of editing this book. I picture the two men in frumpy suits standing in a fluorescent-lit room much like a police station. Before them stands a cork board covered with mugshot-esque portraits of all of the directors, their aliases, box office bombs, and other notes pined in clusters. “No matter how you cut it, it all leads back to Kevin Bacon!” one would say gruffly and stamp out a Marlboro Red. An updated version of this book could include a glossary of the films mentioned so that I wouldn’t have had to go H.A.M. with the post-its. I’m looking forward to a cozy winter of following up on all of the new films I found in this little gem.
On sale for $6 at Strand.
