On TV as Repertory Cinema
9 August, 2024
Like many of us, I ended up receiving a far more extensive/eclectic film education from television which, in those days, showed all manner of surprises at the most surprising times. Television was like an unassuming repertory theatre.
Ian Penman, Fassbinder Thousands of Mirrors
There was a time when that was true. When that was truly possible. When television as a personal repertory cinema was a necessity. The latter for me, at least.
Once upon a time, I was actually young. Really! Not old enough to go to the cinema by myself young. And my parents? They had no interest in film or in taking me to the movies. But TV provided me with a weird, wonderful, syncretic movie theatre all my own.
During my youth in the 1970s and 1980s, there was so much coming over the free airwaves to fuel my burgeoning love of movies and film. On those channels, older movies were on what seemed to be constant play. Some of them classics, some just very good. Most were bad or, at least, not-so-good. But I watched them all. I enjoyed them all.
I remember spending more than one afternoon on a winter weekend, perched on the sofa at home, a mug of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies within reach, taking in Japanese monster flicks, dramas, war movies, SF, and comedies on TV stations that made their way to my home from far off (though definitely not exotic) places like Buffalo, Rochester, Hamilton, Barrie, Peterborough, and Kitchener-Waterloo. Those afternoons spent in front of the set were more fun than braving the bone-freezing wind chill with others my age at the open-air skating rink at the local park.
During the rest of the year, there were days (during the week and on weekends) on which I just didn’t feel like going outside. On which I didn’t feel like interacting with the world. On which I just didn’t have the focus or energy to dive into a book. Movies were there for me on those days, providing me with entertainment and distraction.
My love of, and appreciation for, movies was fully stoked and cemented by a pair of shows that flowed to my television via TVOntario: Magic Shadows and Saturday Night at the Movies. Both shows had their charms and were hosted by a genial, unassuming but incredibly knowledgeable film buff named Elwy Yost.
The former show broke an older movie up into four parts, showing them at 20-odd minute intervals in the evening from Monday to Thursday; each Friday featured an episode of a serial film from the 1930s and 1940s. The latter, in true repertory cinema fashion, presented two classic films, often of a similar theme, with commentary and interviews by Yost between each film.
While I was entertained by what passed before my eyes, I learned to appreciate both movies and film (yes, there is a difference between them. Elwy Yost’s interviews, for example, opened my mind to the creative processes of filmmakers. By watching movies intently, I learned to admire the craft of directors, screenwriters, actors, cameramen (and they were mainly men in those days), cinematographers, and special effects people.
I also learned to enjoy bad movies. Not because they were so bad they were good — a spurious concept at best — but because of the sheer chutzpah of the people creating those bad movies, who maybe didn’t realize how bad their efforts were. Maybe they were deluded into thinking they were creating works of art. But so what? They were creating, and that’s often all that matters.
In the end, I received (whether realized it or not) an education in film and film history. Just as Ian Penman and so many others of my generation did. I witnessed the way in which cinematic techniques evolved and changed — directing, composition, camera movement, acting, screenwriting, special effects, all of that kind of thing.
I saw how film developed into an art form, while still continuing to be a medium of entertainment. An art for that, sometimes at least, didn’t take itself or its audience too seriously.
While, to some degree, you can replicate the experience I described online today, I’m not sure it’s the same experience. I’m not sure it’s as rich or satisfying an experience. Nowadays, that experience isn’t random. You’re not tuning into a TV channel, ready to be surprised. Some of the joy of random discovery is gone.
But I could be wrong. In fact, I could be very wrong. Maybe you can try to create your own repertory cinema using online sources. A great place to start is Open Culture’s list of thousands of free movies. Tell them I sent you!