It would not be hyperbole to say that David Bordwell was a dividing line in the history of film scholarship, a clear boundary traced in the sand. Thanks to his erudition and rigor, one can say with authority that there was film studies before Bordwell and film studies after Bordwell. On February 29th, he passed away after a long illness at the age of 76, as detailed in this farewell by his essential collaborator and life partner Kristin Thompson.
The role of a film festival like the Locarno Film Festival is to look forward, to propose several possible futures of cinema while also, simultaneously, reimagining the canon of film history, whether by staging complex retrospectives or supporting significant film restoration projects. But it would be remiss if it didn’t acknowledge the immeasurable contribution of a figure like David Bordwell, whose work charts a course between the varied continents of cinema. His work approached movies, mostly retrospectively, as a science and a practice, as a popular art worth dissecting and analyzing in an accessible way; his crisp prose and meticulous arguments made him beloved by undergraduates and seasoned cinephiles alike.
Now that he has left us, it is possible to take proper account of the invaluable resource his body of written scholarship really is, whether at Observations on Film Art – his personal blog, run with Kristin Thompson since his academic retirement in 2004 – or his books on Hong Kong cinema, film critics of the 1940s, classical cinematic staging, Yasujiro Ozu, Carl Dreyer, or on the art of film in general.
Despite this titanic reputation, David Bordwell was also known for his kindness and generosity. At Il Cinema Ritrovato in Bologna, which Bordwell attended regularly, he could often be spotted in the front row at the various cinemas that showed rarities from the archives. As a very young cinephile, I made his acquaintance. Having sprinted to the cinema for a film, I asked him – without recognizing who I was talking to – to hold my seat (and my pizza box) while I rushed outside to get some water.
When I returned, we got to talking and I realized who had been holding my spot from legions of people asking if it was free. Still, he didn’t hesitate to flatter me. “Well, you know Hou Hsiao-Hsien's early comedies were... oh, what am I saying? You certainly know more about those films than I do. I don’t need to say anymore.” To a very young cinephile, that simple gesture meant an awful lot.
Christopher Small
Editorial Manager and Head of the Critics Academy