A metaphor for modern cinema can be formed from analogues in the world of painting. It divides films into three unconnected groups.

A very small, select number of films can be paralleled by the work of the great masters, in that they are governed by basic, easily identifiable principles, and through use of them push the boundaries of what is achievable with the form.

A second group, of larger but still limited number, seem intrinsically aware of those principles, and of the perverse phenomena of cinema, but appear to have happened upon this circumstance either by accident or through application of some small knowledge. These are the ‘also-rans’ – the landscapes and portraits that populate galleries and homes the world over, but fail to attain the high standard of painters like Picasso, Rembrandt or Munch.

The final group is undoubtedly the largest and most prolific. Here the painting is not a cheap watercolour or even a framed print, but the painting that you practice at home on your walls and ceilings. These films have no recourse to principles, and are directed by only a pathological interest in simplistic, misguided technique. They are the films of Hollywood and its imitators, of those pre-occupied with narrative and genre, and, as such, are as undeserving of our praise and admiration as a well-painted living room wall.

Modern practitioners, theorists and educators should aspire to filmmaking that learns from, explores and reinvigorates the basic principles of cinema. Otherwise there is no justification in the hyperbole, egotism and presumption that surrounds much modern filmmaking and film theory. A painting in a gallery and a painting of a wall are two different things entirely: one has meaning and influence, the other no significance other than cursory aesthetic pleasure. Cinema needs great paintings, not well-painted walls.