Wednesday, September 11, 2013

TED'S DIGITAL JUNGLE- DIGITAL NEWSREEL #9


III.3. Grierson and Flaherty:

 Nichols and other Anglophone cinema historians generally attribute the first use of the term documentary to John Grierson, the Scot who created the famous British Empire Marketing Board Film Unit; Grierson reportedly first used the term to describe Robert Flaherty’s Moana (1926) in a review written in The New York Sun:” Of course, Moana, being a visual account of events in the daily life of a Polynesian youth and his family, has documentary value.”[1]

In the Anglophone world, the evolution of documentary aesthetics began during the Great Depression of the 1930’s, and the British documentarians, led by  Grierson, soon began to express an ambivalence towards the work of the man they had previously lionized as a pioneer only a few years before.

In his book, “Documentary Film” (1935), the first known history of documentary,  Grierson protégé Paul Rotha set the tone when he accused Flaherty of having romanticized the lives of his subjects:” Surely we have the right to believe that the documentary method, the most virile of all kinds of film, should not ignore the vital social issues of this year of grace.”[2]

Grierson himself had initially hailed Flaherty as the father of documentary in the 1920’s, but, with the advent of the Great Depression in the 1930S, he and his colleagues seemed to grow increasingly disenchanted with the Flaherty.
With the advent of synchronized sound, Grierson and his colleagues developed their own style of documentary; they began to rely heavily on the unseen omniscient narrator – a technique Grierson called direct address narration.


Since Flaherty abhorred narration of any kind, this reliance on Direct Address led to even further creative schism. In 1934, Flaherty’s “Man of Aran” won a first prize at the Venice Film Festival, and was praised by many to be Flaherty’s finest work. However, rather than acknowledge his colleague’s achievement, Grierson rather ungraciously sniffed that he hoped that ‘the neo-Rousseauianism implicit in Flaherty’s work dies with his own exceptional self.”[3]

There is little question today that John Grierson was the dominant figure in the early development of the documentary in the Western world.  His key positions as first head of the Empire Marketing Board, and, later, as founder of the National Film Boards of Canada, Australia and New Zealand, provided him with a platform to define documentary as he chose, at least in the Anglophone world.  [4]

This ascendancy of the Griersonian aesthetic over Flaherty, not to mention Soviet documentary pioneers such as Dziga Vertov and Esther Shub was due to several factors:

First, and perhaps most important, Grierson held positions of power at the most important government-supported institutions in the Anglophone cinema world in the United Kingdom, Canada, and Australia during a period when film became the dominant medium for mass culture. He was also instrumental in the establishment of the Indian government’s Films Division, one of the world’s largest producers of documentary films, as well as United Nations Television. In short, John Grierson managed to create a global platform for his documentary aesthetic, with no oversight from commercial sponsors, of whom there were none.

Indeed, for many people around the world, a Grierson-formula film with the institutional, direct address narration, became synonymous with documentary.  

The Grierson influence is still noticeable today in former colonies of the United Kingdom and France, such as India and most African countries. The direct address narration assures institutional control of message, often attempting to compensate for poor visual material, and makes life easier for government administrators, enabling them to show their bosses they are parroting the party line, while impeding the development of modern media communications skills among both practitioners and consumers alike. Since many of these same administrators appear themselves to have no awareness or comprehension of modern media techniques, this phenomenon is self-perpetuating, resulting in the production of mediocre material , of interest to few other than the VIPS depicted.


As a result, today the Grierson direct address narration technique is often referred to disparagingly among documentarians as The Voice of God; it is hard to assess the impact of this technique when it was most prevalent, in the 1930’s and 1940’s, and was associated with newsreels popular in England and the United States, like “The March of Time”. However, today, most contemporary documentarians see it as patronizing and antiquated, and avoid it altogether, if at all possible.

While Flaherty enjoyed early commercial success, and had many admirers, he was never able to articulate his own aesthetic and ideology in words; he let his films speak for themselves. Flaherty died in 1951, and his widow Frances attempted to protect his legacy through the creation of the Flaherty Seminars in 1955, which were held yearly in upstate New York.  However, as more embarrassing facts surrounding the shooting of “Nanook of the North” became known, Flaherty’s stature as a documentary pioneer became seriously tarnished.

 Internationally, his reputation has yet to recover from the withering ideological critiques during the post-Colonial era of the 1960s, when his man-versus-nature theme was vigorously denounced as a “romantic fraud”[5] by Third World critics and others.  One critic, Fatimah Tobing Rony, went so far as to describe Flaherty’s “Nanook of the North” as,” a cinema of romantic preservationism, dedicated not to anthropological knowledge but to the production of indigenous people as trophies and to the capture of their ways of life in nostalgic fiction.”[6]

Today, one might fairly say the ethnographic documentary owes the biggest debt to the pioneering attempts of Flaherty to document traditional lives of indigenous peoples. However, his well-established penchant for re-enactment, not to mention outright fabrication of non-existent events in the lives of the peoples whose stories he was supposedly documenting, have caused him to be regarded as something less than a role model for aspiring documentarians today.



[1] Jack C. Ellis and Betsy A, MacLane (A New History of Documentary Film)Continuum, 2005. P.3
[2]  Barnouw ( ibid)  p.99
[3] Aufderheide ( ibid), p35
[4] Barnouw ( ibid),p99
[5] Aufderheide ( ibid),p.32
[6] Gaines ( ibid) p.6

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