All Things Must Pass

This first showcase of the Cult Film Collective Archive is a maniacal delight. Each film in the program has its own distinct charm, and abrasiveness, but there was one piece that stuck out to me: Chromophobia (1966) by the Belgian animator Raoul Servais. The film deals directly with themes of rebellion, as many of the others in the showcase do, but whereas Bags and STOP end with apprehension and uncertainty, Chromophobia is hopeful, to a point of being saccharine. 

In the film, a battalion marches through a city, enforcing a new law—color is banned. Their machine guns transform the diverse into a dismal sameness. When their work looks to be complete, a tricky jester, almost Bugs Bunny-esque in his mischief, undermines their operation and restores the world to its former glory with flowers, balloons and rainbows as his artillery.

Chromophobia is simple and effective in its narrative, but the ending surely hits a bit different now than it did at the Venice Film Festival in 1966, where the film won first prize in animation. Not just because flower power is less cogent today, but because, ironically, so much of this print’s original color dyes have faded away. The cyan is half-gone, and the yellow hues are nearly invisible, leaving only that all too familiar magenta, a signature of Kodak Eastmancolor non-reversal prints produced between 1950 and 1980.

Eastmancolor replaced Technicolor in 1950 because it was easier to manufacture, and it could be developed in any photo lab instead of having to be shipped out to a special Technicolor facility. It wasn’t until the ‘70s that filmmakers began noticing their films were losing hues, by which time it was too late. 

There are all sorts of defects that can crop up with film prints. Most we can ignore because they only live on screen for a fraction of a second. Dust and scratches are noticeable in abundance, but their constant movement can actually add life to a film. A pink film is different. The discoloration is constant. It’s extremely noticeable at the start, before our eyes can adjust, and if your eyes do adjust, one fact remains: a significant part of this film’s emulsion, its DNA, is gone forever. A pink film is in hospice.

Despite the discoloration, I was truly fascinated with the craft and cultural significance these films exhibited. They are historical documents and works of art, many of which were made in the face of an industry take-over by commercial advertising. As an animator, these films inspire me, especially Wind with its boiling line, embrace of disparate media and raw sense of play. Watching it, I felt the artist was free. But after the preview, I couldn’t help but seek out digital restorations of Chromophobia and Wind online. Watching them gave me an approximation of their former glory, of what has been lost. 

Loss is sad, but necessary, and therefore good. In the week leading up to my first viewing of these films, my cat passed away. His name was Gubby. He withered away over the past six months due to acute chronic kidney disease. Near the end, we fed him ice cream a lot, which made him happy. On our last day, we sat in the chair that gets all the afternoon sun and listened to ‘All Things Must Pass’ by George Harrison. Now he’s gone.

Screening a pink print feels like having one last day with someone—there’s still life there, but only some of what there was before. It’s palpable, and it brings both joy and sadness at the same time. Watching a digital restoration, it’s as if there’s only joy, and sometimes that can feel empty and artificial. 

While Eastmancolor hastened deterioration, it made filmmaking widely accessible. It’s fair to assume that many of the prints in this program would not exist without it. Kodak created Eastmancolor when film preservation was not top of mind—in those days, after one saw a film, it was rarely seen again. It lived on in the memory of its audience. 

Now, in the age of the internet, oversaturation is the new deterioration. When content is never lost, and always accessible, what is the point of memory? 

All things must pass. This first showcase of the Cult Film Collective Archive reminds us to celebrate what we have left. Throw it on screen before it’s gone.

This piece was written for the first showcase of the Cult Film Collective Archive at Trylon Cinema in Minneapolis on Thursday March 3rd, 2022. See event details here.