Some Movies Work Just as Well on Small Screen

I was astonished that your film experts discussing video reproductions (“Small Screen for Movies Is a Big Issue for Some Viewers,” Calendar, Jan. 1) failed to mention what this mere movie fan considers the determining factor in deciding quality: the aesthetics of the individual movie. Of course, any film is at its best on a large screen in the dark, with a decent sound system and jumbo popcorn recently popped in old-fashioned grease. But I’ve had great movie experiences in tiny art theaters with leaky ceilings and ill-assorted seats. And who has not suffered through excruciating movie turkeys in state-of-the-art techno-palaces, with drink-holder armrests and magnitude 5.5 verisimilitude at every exploding vehicle crash?

I saw “La Strada” for the first time on a roommate’s television not yet hooked up to cable, crouching on the floor waving wires in one hand to bring the subtitles into barely readable focus, while with the other mopping my streaming tears. Sure, I missed subtleties of composition, undertones of the score. But what Fellini had wrought drew me into his vision, the words of his characters, their profoundly expressive faces. I recently saw “La Strada” under vastly more favorable conditions, with my home-schooling 14-year-old who had decided to learn Italian. Aside from the added joy of sharing, my experience was unchanged.

Does anyone but me recall Hermann Hesse’s novelized image of listening to Mozart on the then-newfangled radio? The alienated character Steppenwolf at first rejects the crackling, imperfect sound. But Hesse’s lesson was that the essential Mozart still came through.

There are many glorious movies that are not well served by the small screen. “Gone With the Wind,” though its performances are still captivating, becomes a miniseries, losing its vastness and sweep. “Lawrence of Arabia,” “East of Eden,” “2001,” “Howards End” and “The Adventures of Baron Munchausen” are similar examples that come to mind. Movies in which space, color and landscape are themselves essential characters lose too much when they are condensed to the small screen.

In my family, we have a limited entertainment budget, so we read reviews and discuss whether a movie is a “wait for video” one or a “must see while in the theaters.” It’s not a simple matter of quality or budget. “Il Postino,” though I’m certain it’s a wonderful film, is one I’m willing to wait for. I trust to the potency of its script, theme and actors to enchant me some evening at home after the children are in bed. I will miss, no doubt, some lovely Mediterranean vistas, but the Mozart of it will come through to me. On the other hand, I did spring to take the 10-year-old to “Jumanji” at the cineplex because cheesy monsters are much more fun noisy and big. Some megabucks thrillers are actually more enjoyable tamed to home-screen size, where one is not “Clockwork Orange”-like forced to endure their excesses without relief. And there are low-budget, experimental films that demand at least tablecloth-size art theater screens to deliver their images, early Bunuel, Stan Brakhage, Robert Frank.

Whether a film can be properly appreciated on video depends on the film itself. Cinema is such a recent art, diverse, communal and rapidly evolving. It is impossible to put all movies in one box and make judgments about how viewers are supposed to appreciate them. Video has opened up treasures of past and foreign films to generations that would otherwise never see them, comparable to what recording did for music less than 100 years ago (when Bach and Renaissance music were utterly unappreciated). Video can never replace full-service movie theaters, any more than CDs can replace a live performance of “The Magic Flute.” But these are the only ways many of us will ever hear the voice of the masters.