Peter MacNamura
The English expression 'Chalk and Cheese' indicates a difference in nature despite a superficial resemblance. However, the idea can be taken further than comparison in appearance and nature to a comparison in value. It is one thing to say that there is a fundamental difference between two people or objects, but it is an entirely different matter to then go on and state that one of the two is of greater value. Which is better, chalk or cheese? The answer, very obviously, depends on whether you want to write on a wall or to eat! The idea that value is a matter of purpose, not something implicit in the material, could be useful in developing a healthy respect for the work of the amateur or private film maker. If amateur film is seen as a pale shadow or imitation of real film, then there is little of interest in it, but if it is something of a different kind or order, then we may begin to see that it is not profitable to compare amateur and professional film. If the makers of films have similar purposes, then comparisons and consequent ranking of their merits are entirely legitimate, but if their purposes are different, comparison is meaningless.
If film is approached from the field of art criticism, then amateur will indicate inferior, although not at all worthless, in film as in the other arts. However, the claim that amateur film is an inferior form in all respects to professional or commercial film is frankly puzzling for the historian who uses film as a source for understanding change over time in human affairs. The general value of amateur work in creating records simply depends on the nature of the historical investigation that is being undertaken. To the historian of state politics and inter-state relations the value of amateur film is likely to be low or non-existent, similarly the macro-economic historian is unlikely to attach any significance to the material. The social historian, the historian of the family, the cultural and anthropological investigator, in short all those who want to answer the question "What was it like to live in that community?" will see the amateur film record in a different way.
The validity of any argument about life in the past can only rest in a full and proper use of the sources. Historians have always attached significance to diaries, portraits and letters, those priceless fragments that humanise and personalise our understanding of life in the past. They are essential for biography, and they illuminate our understanding of relationships in all areas of activity. The invention of cheap and effective ciné cameras in the 1920s created a new way of recording personal, family and community activity that is fundamentally different to text sources.
In using amateur films we must, as always, grapple with the question of subjectivity, but the nature of the film record allows us to go beyond the express intention of the author. The diarist may leave a graphic image of the great Fire of London, the artist in words or image can give us insight into a moment in time, but we are entirely at their mercy: we see only what they allow us to see. The filmmaker who records the family at play on the beach, or the scenes at Aunt Marie's wedding records the realities of location, transport, costume, social customs and relationships. This is not simply the distinction between creative and documentary film. The amateur is a member of a community, working within that community, recording and expressing the priorities of personal, family and community existence. The amateur filmmaker shows us the dynamic relationship between people, place and event, as does the documentary filmmaker, but also gives us insight into the mentality of the community from within. Generalisations are always dangerous, but it is reasonable to assert that the amateur filmmaker recording events has less control over the 'scene', than the professional, and has less interest in faking contexts.
Film and text sources are not mutually exclusive: the diary recording Marie's experience on her wedding day, her fears and doubts or her elation, is complementary to the scenes of the event. Both offer nourishment to the hungry historian. Given that the young Marie of 1935 is now 81, there are two urgent tasks facing us: the first is finding and
preserving the film, and the second is finding and preserving Marie's memorabilia of the day and also recording her memories of that stage
in her life.
The historian of life in the twentieth century has a vital and incomparably rich source with which to approach the question - "What kind of people were they? "-, reading on and through the screen, identifying and interpreting physical and cultural realities: the world as seen and the world as perceived. At one level the enthusiast might argue that a rich collection of amateur films culled from the growing number of Archives now actively looking for and valuing this material could make the historian redundant. Surely the ability to see for ourselves what people were doing at home, in leisure activities, at work, through their cultural, political and social organisations (all of which can be found in the archive collections), is a better way of knowing about the past than reading or listening to the historian? This fallacy, like the nineteenth-century documentary-text fallacy, ignores the processes of intention, selection, editing and presentation, all of which are core skills of the professional historian. The insight of the historian enriches our understanding of film and context through professional research and debate.
Beyond the general value of 'windows into the past', there is a particular aspect of amateur film work that distinguishes the genre from that of the professional. In the Yorkshire Film Archive, as presumably in others, there are examples of amateur filmmakers working over time, a process that is simply not available to the professional filmmaker who works within time constraints. In one instance a school teacher made a film which recorded school life in 1938, the building of his new school from 1938 to 1940, the occupation of the new building by the army and their use of it, finishing with the official opening of the building by the deputy Prime Minister, Clement Atlee in 1944. In another film a member of the aristocracy recorded episodes in the life of the village on his estate from 1931 to 1951. Other films record the activities of societies and organisations. These filmmakers are the Chroniclers of our age, aware of processes of change and diligently recording them for posterity. However, if we look at the collections, rather than at the individual films, it is apparent that all amateur filmmakers are chroniclers in varying degrees. Their collections of film are unplanned and non-systematic chronicles, sometimes stretching over thirty or more years of active film-making. The historian can use this material to re-locate our understanding of life in the twentieth century. We see the infants of the 1920s and 30s becoming the adults of the mid-century, and they in turn record for us, their children and even grand-children, while around them the great forces of political, social, economic and technological change move and shape their lives. As we look at these life-journeys we are reminded that the unit of history is the life-time, not the year, and the subject of history is the person, not the State. "Inédits"* are a record of daily life, of family and communal experience over time.
A knowledge and understanding of history is a necessity for everybody:
"As memory is to the individual, so history is to the community or society" (Marwick, 1970).
Counsellors and therapists tell us that a person who misuses or abuses memories of past experience cannot have a healthy relationship with present circumstances. We all need to maintain a healthy dialogue between what we think about our lives and how we manage our lives. What is true for the individual is true also for the community. The relationship between catastrophic political/military activity and the failure to use our collective memory, our history, productively and constructively is very clear in Europe and the wider world today. "Inédits" invite us to know and to share our common experiences as members of familiar human communities, rather than identifying with the States of which we are members. Through personal, family and community films, we are invited to find, share and enjoy our similarities and differences; learning about the changing patterns of life in our part of the world over the course of the century. The amateur filmmaker has created an essentially democratic record of life in Europe in the twentieth century. A thorough and disciplined use of this vivid and rich source makes an alternative history possible, the history of the people of Europe in our age, to put alongside the history of the States of Europe. The standard text-based academic and school histories of our communities in Europe have little relationship to daily life experience. An unfortunate consequence of this is that our communities often carry with them in adult life a childish and inadequate understanding of our identity. History, the raw material of our understanding of self and other, cannot be left in school and in the past. History is an essential political and cultural activity, a tool that we use to deal with ever-changing circumstances.
AEI (Association Européenne Inédit) aims "to promote, co-ordinate and organise at an international level, all activities related to the research, study, restoration, archiving, conservation, evaluation and broadcasting of 'inédit' films." AEI is a dynamic organisation founded on a belief that the value of the amateur and private film can only be realised through the co-operation of archivists, academics, and media producers. By operating on a European level the Association promotes a sharing of professional expertise across the range of their interests, and places local experience in a European cultural context. The annual congress is a meeting of minds and a platform for expositions; it generates insights and leads to collaborative ventures in and between each sector.
If each sector (Archives, Academics, Television Producers) acts in isolation the community as a whole loses:
Archive film cannot be left on shelves!
Academics must not simply talk to each other!
Television Broadcasters should not use Inédits as a peep-show!
By establishing a dialogue between all the interested parties - film holders, academics of all relevant disciplines, television producers - AEI enables each sector to support, enrich and benefit from the expertise of the others in a fruitful interaction.
Television provides a platform from which the archivist and or researcher can speak directly to the mass audience, breaking through the conventional restrictions of professional discussion and debate. If there have been instances when broadcasters have abused the film, or the rights and dignity of film holders, in order to make cheap television, perhaps the responsibility ultimately lies with those professionals who would not work diligently and conscientiously with members of the broadcasting community to develop their understanding and thinking about the value of amateur films. In a context where amateur film is derided and dismissed by narrow-minded professionals, it would not be surprising if abuses were to take place.
Through the media we can use Inédits to promote affection and respect for human experience. As the amateur filmmaker now moves on to a new technology there is opportunity and need to locate, preserve and activate the extraordinary record of human activity that the common people of Europe, and the wider world so lovingly made with their small-gauge cameras. The amateur is an expression of two of the greatest human emotions - love and passion! Professional, commercial film is different in kind, but who can suppose that it is somehow superior? Do you want to write on a wall, or eat?