There have been many TV series on history and art, but this was one of the first and most impressive. I saw it on PBS on its release and here is the scene. I'm sprawled on the floor of my apartment with half a dozen graduate students from a nearby university, in my Philadelphia living room, some of us having lightly indulged in psychedelic substances, and the camera follows Sir Kenneth Clark as he guides us through an ornate doorway into the Sistine Chapel. But the camera doesn't stay on Clark's back. As it passes through the door it bend backwards, looking upward, as a human might do, at the gaudy splotches that adorn the ceiling. And there comes a low growl of astonishment from someone seated behind me -- "Wowww!"
I won't summarize the contents of the series here, but I guess I'll mention that the subtitle, "A Personal View," should be taken literally. At one point Sir Kenneth suggests that the residents of a Medieval village that had been passed by barbarians might have preferred being conquered because it would relieve their boredom.
But I've recently watched it a second time and it lacks the impact of its first viewing. There have been many similar series, less languorous, more quickly paced. Sir Kenneth is gentlemanly and doesn't condescend to an audience raised on commercials for hair dye, remedies for impotence, and corn flakes.
He strolls along a wall whose figures have been painted by Giotto. "Giotto's work needs no words from me," he remarks, and there follows a period of nothing but plainsong and a very slow and deliberate camera roaming over the figures. It's more than a minute long, and Clark is absent. The good part of this kind of approach is that you get to recognize Giotto's work by heart. (All of Giotto's eyes looked the same, sort of too-close-together and squinty.) The bad part is you might fall asleep for a few seconds.
I kind of wish, too, that he'd anchored us a bit more firmly in the historical time line. What was the social and political context of the work? Or, even more elementary, who followed whom? Simon Schama's series, though much less ambitious, tells us a lot more about the individuals who wielded the brushes and mallets.
I won't summarize the contents of the series here, but I guess I'll mention that the subtitle, "A Personal View," should be taken literally. At one point Sir Kenneth suggests that the residents of a Medieval village that had been passed by barbarians might have preferred being conquered because it would relieve their boredom.
But I've recently watched it a second time and it lacks the impact of its first viewing. There have been many similar series, less languorous, more quickly paced. Sir Kenneth is gentlemanly and doesn't condescend to an audience raised on commercials for hair dye, remedies for impotence, and corn flakes.
He strolls along a wall whose figures have been painted by Giotto. "Giotto's work needs no words from me," he remarks, and there follows a period of nothing but plainsong and a very slow and deliberate camera roaming over the figures. It's more than a minute long, and Clark is absent. The good part of this kind of approach is that you get to recognize Giotto's work by heart. (All of Giotto's eyes looked the same, sort of too-close-together and squinty.) The bad part is you might fall asleep for a few seconds.
I kind of wish, too, that he'd anchored us a bit more firmly in the historical time line. What was the social and political context of the work? Or, even more elementary, who followed whom? Simon Schama's series, though much less ambitious, tells us a lot more about the individuals who wielded the brushes and mallets.