Brannavan Gnanalingam: Is there such thing as an ‘unflawed’ artist?

Brannavan Gnanalingam is a lawyer and novelist based in Wellington. His latest book is Slow Down, You’re Here.

OPINION: At the end of last year, many film buffs would have been interested in the release of Sight and Sound magazine’s list of the 100 greatest films of all time. Such a list has been released every 10 years since 1952, and is voted on by critics and film-makers.

The most recent iteration had a surprise winner, breaking the run of 1940s and 1950s number one films (mostly dominated by Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane): Chantal Akerman’s 1975 film Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles was voted number one by the critics.

I’m a big fan of Akerman’s films. Jeanne Dielman is a slow burning three-hour-plus film where not much happens (though, in my view, it’s a psychological thriller). It’s a hard sell for most people, unless you become attuned to the rhythm. However, slow, more than three-hour films are my catnip, which also probably explains why I got used to going to movies by myself at a young age.

A similar revisiting recently took place by the music website Pitchfork. At the turn of the millennium, Pitchfork released the greatest albums and songs from the 1990s, which became instrumental in setting the website’s focus on indie/alternative music.

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Many people discovered previously obscure bands such as Neutral Milk Hotel and Guided by Voices through such lists. Its most recent revision of the 1990s list however, shifted away from being very male/indie-focused, and instead had artists such as Mariah Carey, Lauryn Hill, Janet Jackson and Hole, much higher up.

There are problems with “best of” lists (or this idea of a best of “canon”). They often repeat the same “winners” and reflect the biases of the critics/artists in question. For example, it became a running joke to see critics who grew up in the 1960s continue to insist that Sgt Pepper’s or Pet Sounds were the only greatest albums of all-time. It also meant marginalised artists were ignored.

However, I am interested in the idea of revisiting such lists. The changes in the Sight and Sound list have been fascinating. Akerman is a feminist Jewish and Belgian film-maker, who made great films from the 70s until her death in 2015 (her last film No Home Movie was similarly great). She hadn’t previously been recognised that often.

However, the 2022 list is not perfect. There ought to have been more films from Asia (Taiwan, Japan, China, Korea and Hong Kong in particular have made some of the greatest films of all-time) and Africa, and more women and queer film-makers. But the list does reflect how taste can change from generation to generation and what is considered “good” is an ever-shifting concept.

To me, this changing nature of “taste” puts the Roald Dahl brouhaha into context. For those who haven’t heard, Roald Dahl’s publishers are planning on “updating” some of Dahl’s more dated language. I’m generally suspicious when people who don’t read try to rile up other people who don’t read.

This isn’t Orwellian (side note: there should be an embargo on people using the word Orwellian to describe something they simply don’t like). It’s simply a publisher cynically looking to protect its investment, given it is concerned that future children (and parents) might be put off by some of the language in Dahl’s books.

I do have sympathy with the culture warriors opposing the changes to Dahl’s words, though. If, in the very unlikely event, people are reading my books after my death, I’d hate it for my words to be changed – my flaws are my flaws. My child loves Roald Dahl, and it’s because he’s on the kids’ side against all of those nasty adults – Dahl would lose his enjoyment if that dynamic is neutered.

Though Dahl is clearly a flawed individual. I do find it funny when adults act as if they’ve just discovered Santa Claus isn’t real, when they’re told their favourite artists are kinda jerks – artists’ blind-spots are often reflected in their art, and it’s no major issue that art has to be revisited within that context.

I guess ultimately, it’s good that we acknowledge that culture isn’t static. It doesn’t really matter that the movies, music and books we liked as kids are not liked by the next generation of kids. Tastes change. Societies change. People discover hidden treasures from the past or ignore the stuff that we thought was great. It’s healthy that we re-evaluate things all the time. It isn’t Orwellian or woke or a threat to your own sense of self to acknowledge that. There are also new appreciations that result from that.

I watched Jurassic Park with my child the other day. She was terrified but loved it, reflecting the reaction I had when I watched it as a child. I wasn’t scared this time around, but I was able to put my film degree to use and deconstruct the genius way Spielberg created and used space. It’s not just culture that changes – it’s an obvious point, but we change, as well. That ever-changing dynamic, to me, makes the thought of consuming art, just as exciting as it was when I was a kid.