David Thomson - Have You Seen . . . ?: A Personal Introduction to 1,000 Films

I was first approached to try this book by Nigel Wilcockson of Penguin in London. It was a prolonged process. After The Biographical Dictionary of Film, I did not believe it was a sane idea to write another very long book on the same subject. But Nigel was not to be told no and saw little evidence that I was sane. He talked to me. He sent me superb books on the churches of England as inspiration. He never stopped until he had persuaded me to say yes. Then he left Penguin, and for all I know he is now leading other authors astray for other houses. The one thing Nigel omitted to say in his campaignthat I would enjoy doing the bookcame through with such surprise that I knew I must always thank him first. His role at Penguin, as my editor, was then filled by Simon Winder, who proved to be a dedicated friend, a patient and invaluable editor, and a tower of strength, even though I declined illustrations and a rating system.

In America, the book was taken up by Knopf, who had published me often before: thus, I fell into the hands of a proven teamBob Gottlieb as editor, Katherine Hourigan as managing editor, Kevin Bourke as production editing maestro, Kathy Zuckerman as publicity director, and Carol Carson, who designed the jacket. These people are some of the best friends I have had, in or out of publishing. If I mark Bob Gottlieb down as captain of the team, it is only fair. Bob is a book man, and a very good writer (though he only found that out, I think, after he had stopped commissioning and editing so many books). Theres a lot that we dont agree on, but there is no one with whom sporting disagreements can be so thoroughly enjoyed and explored. I have been lucky enough to be there in need at a time in his life when his passion moved toward film. He is a great editorand all he does is read you, think about it, argue, and guide you into being a little better.

Beyond the publishing assistance, I rely on a group of friends and family with whom I see or discuss films. Again, we do not agree all the time. But we have seen that as the point. I have benefited from remarks, recommendations, and insights, and helpless cries of pain and ecstasy from so many people. But these are the ones I can remember now: Mark Feeney; Tom Luddy; Edith Kramer; Pierre Rissient; Jean-Pierre Gorin; Scott Foundas; Richard and Mary Corliss; Andrew Sarris and Molly Haskell; Richard Schickel; Richard Roud; Richard Jameson and Kathleen Murphy; Patrick McGilligan; Greil Marcus; Peter Bogdanovich; Mark Cousins; Ty Burr; Michael Ondaatje; Anthony Lane, Quentin Curtis, Gilbert Adair, and Jonathan Romney (all in their time fellow film critics at the Independent on Sunday in London); Antonia Quirke; Jim Toback; Paul Schrader; David Packard; Steven Bach; Jeffrey Selznick; Holly Goldberg Sloan and Garry Rosen. Many of these people are all the more remarkable for being interested in many things beside film. And that leads me to the vital company in any filmgoers lifethe other people in the darkAnne, Lucy, and five children (Kate, Mathew, Rachel, Nicholas, and Zachary), most of whom know the problem of keeping me awake at some films. It is the just reward for insomnia that I sleep most easily at the movies. Why not? I always suspected they were dreams.

I wanted a bumper book for your laps, a volume where you could keep turning the pages and coming upon juxtapositions of the fanciful and the fabulous (Abbott and Costello go to Zabriskie Point?) or some chance alphabetical poetry that might make your scalp tinglelike Bad Day at Black Rock leading into Badlands. I wanted old favorites to be neighbors with films youve never heard of. I wanted you to entertain the unlikely possibility that everything is here. Of course, it is noteverything remains out in our scattered there.

Choosing their top ten is a game most film critics are accustomed toand one that allows depressives to ask, Are there really ten worth keeping? (This is a healthy doubt, more useful than the routine thumbs up on two or three fresh masterpieces every week.) Writing about a select hundred is a regular form of bookmakingthe exercise of taste makes a moderate-sized book and a harmless pantheon. But going for a thousand is a gesture toward historyit seems to require that the selector weighs the old against the new. Its like wondering whether Beowulf can talk to Lolita.

How is it that a thousand seems to omit so many more than a whimsical ten? How can ten hundred escape being an outline of the history of the medium and of our jumping tastes? If youre picking ten, you may not consider the silent era in Sweden. But if youre doing a thousand, then those Stillers and Sjstrms deserve reappraisal. And they may be among the best early films we have.