The Best 2012 Film Memorial

As the annual "Best of" lists and the trailer supercuts are getting passed around online, there's one internet video that caught my attention yesterday and now refuses to let go: the TCM tributee to all the actors and filmmakers who passed away during 2012. TCM has been making these tributes for several years now, and they're always wonderfully tasteful and classy and aimed at those of us who know and love the classics. So while more famous names like Whitney Houston and Davey Jones do make appearances, the final, lingering shots at the very end are of producer Richard D. Zaunck, and beloved actor Ernest Borgnine, who began his acting career in the 50s. I don't exactly look forward to these videos every year, since they leave such bittersweet feelings, but I've always appreciated them, and now more than ever.

I've been growing disenchanted with the "In Memoriam" segments that have become something of a staple of all the major awards shows. I like the sentiment behind them, and the chance to see Hollywood acknowledge its past and history, but the execution lately leaves a lot ot be desired. A popular singer will be trotted out to croon something appropriately somber. The stage will clear and the lights will dim. And then, inevitably, you get the same old scroll of famous names and flattering portraits, but few contextual clips to show you what they actually contributed to the movies. There used to be many complaints about the inclusion of applause from the audience being in very poor taste, until they took the applause away, and the segments became infinitely more tedious and awkward. They always feel rushed because of the time constraints of the awards ceremonies, yet also tend to feel interminable because there are always more unfamiliar names than familiar ones in the mix. Too many just feel forced and perfunctory.

What "TCM Remembers" does that's so effective, is to pair up the usual portraits and clips of these filmmakers with original footage, usually some nostalgic landscapes and nature shots, helping to break up the listed names and to help convey a properly reflective mood. This year, those shots centered around an abandoned drive-in theater, which we see slowly, miraculously come back to life over the course of the leisurely paced, nearly six-minute tribute. The projectors turn on by themselves as night falls, the film strips whizzing away, and the movie images are projected at both the screens and up into the expanse of the starry night sky. It quietly positions film as a means of brief resurrection for these beloved talents, while commenting on the transience of film itself. It also provides a strong reminder that the movie business is in a state of transition, and physical film and the art of projection are slowly but surely disappearing as digital is becoming the new standard. In a sense, the passing of these film greats coincides with the passing of this whole era of film.

The finale section was particularly effective for me, because I grew up with the Steven Spielberg and George Lucas movies of the 70s and 80s. At first I didn't know why we were seeing shots of "Close Encounters of the Third Kind," "E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial," and "Return of the Jedi." And then came the portraits of conceptual artist Ralph McQuarrie, swordmaster Bob Anderson, and special effects guru Carlo Rambaldi, who designed E.T. Richard D. Zaunck produced "Jaws," of course. And it sunk in exactly how much of an influence these artists had on my movie-loving childhood. Though the instrumental provided by French alt-rock band M83 is very nice, suddenly in my head all I could hear was a John Williams score.

This is what I look for in these memorial tributes, and why I still instinctively want to watch every terrible variant of them in every terrible awards show. It's that split-second recognition and connection that the really strong ones manage to evoke, that I find invaluable in helping me to appreciate someone whose death I might have heard about offhand, and never really registered. Sure, I knew that Alex Karras passed, but it completely escaped by attention that Mongo from "Blazing Saddles" was gone with him. Just that one shot in the TCM video was enough to remind me. The film medium is great like that.

Now I will end this post per the usual traditional when one discusses these kinds of tributes - by pointing out the people who got left out: David Kelly, Jean "Moebius" Giraud, Eiko Ishioka, and Jerry Nelson, to name a few. Of course, there have to be limits to the length of these videos, and everybody ends up leaving out somebody. It's inevitable. However, TCM has consistently been much better than most in this regard, and for that I'm grateful.
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