SCREENnNoble Savagerynby Herbert LondonnThe Emerald Forest; Written bynRospo Pallenberg; Produced and Directednby John Boorman; EmbassynPictures.nThe Emerald Forest was often discussednas the surprise film of the summernseason. It is certainly that and perhapsnmore. Although Mr. Pallenberg’s tributento pristine nature suggests that yetnanother environmental evangelistnwalks the corridors of a Hollywoodnstudio, the sheer visual beauty, exactingndetail, and anthropological authenticityngive this film a majesty rarelynfound in contemporary movies.nThe plot, said to be based on a truenstory, is centered around the kidnappingnof a young boy by an Amazonianntribe known as the Invisible People.nThe boy’s father searches 10 yearsnuntil he finds his son living and acculturatednamong the indigenes. In onensense, the film is a stale rehearsal ofnNature striving to retain her dignitynand innocence against the encroachmentnof Civilization. Technologicalnadvancement may be inexorable, butnin this fable the ancient gods triumph.nThe chief of the Invisible People callsnmodernization “the end of the world.”nBut where the world ends and where itnbegins is epiphenomenal, a conditionndetermined by the eye of the beholder.nNonetheless, the story is an insignificantnbackdrop for the Amazonian forest.nEvery detail of this lush forestnpresented in the film has the hint ofnverisimilitude. I watched each scenenwith perspirahon on my brow evennthough I sat in an air-conditionedntheater. The humidity in the Amazonnmontage is palpable. Each tribal ritualnappears as a living page in an anthropologyntext.nJohn Boorman is a director whosenfilms—as Deliverance indicates—arenon the “edge,” that point where normsn301 CHRONICLES OF CULTUREnVITAL SIGNSnX ^.nand convention yield to instinct andnsurvival. In the hands of a less-skilledndirector, this film could have beenneither Tarzan or a National Geographicntravelogue. Had Boorman resistednthe temptation to make this anmoral tale in which the life of thenindigenes is apotheosized, he wouldnhave made a stardingly great film. As itnis, this is a good but flawed film.nSo far has pop anthropology movednin the direction of rationalizing andnadmiring primitive practices, that thenword “primitive” has long since beennrelegated to desuetude. Claude Levi-nStrauss and Clifford Geertz, amongnothers, remind us that there are manynways to adjust to the demands of life.nHowever, from a Darwinian standpointnit is obvious that primitive—Inhave no hesitation in employing thenword—cultures cannot survive in anworld dominated by advanced technology.nAs this film demonstrates,nspears are no match for automaticnweapons. One may lament the loss ofnthese ancient communities, but lamentationnwon’t bring them back to life.nMy concern with Boorman’s infatuationnwith primitives is less significantnthan my despair over the depiction ofnmodern life. Urbanization is seen asnmorally bankrupt; exploitation reigns.nYoung women from the forest are soldninto prostitution, and Indians are “civilized”nwith alcohol and guns. Thisnstereotype is so pervasive in film that itnis one of those “truths” rarely examined.nThe film might have paid morenattention to ritual murder, druginducednhallucinations, self-mutilation,nand the proximity of death thatncharacterize much of tribal life. Thenevolution from primitive to modernnman did indeed involve the loss ofninnocence; it also involved a wellbeingntribal man never envisioned.nThis technological shift took mankindnfrom a reliance on nature—its whimsnand fury—and gave it a Prometheanncontrol over the unpredictable lifenforces—a theme no longer fashionablenwith directors.nnnThe Emerald Forest is a paean tonanother way of life; the Stone Agenreappears in the adult version of ThenFlintstones. Yet as blatantly moralisticnand silly as this film may be, it isngripping. We enter this cinematic junglenas in a dream, swept away bynimagery of dark impulses, animalnurges, and a serenity of the primordialnin all its nakedness. But afterwards, innthe sweet glow of city lights, we takencomfort in our safe modernity, in anpleasure and security the wildernessncan never provide. Even if the junglenlargely disappears, it will survive asnfable to entrance our children yet tonbe, if only in The Emerald Forest, ccnHerbert London is dean of the GallatinnDivision of New York University.nARTnThe SumptuousnBasketnby Shehbaz H. SafraninIn New York City there is a room fornwonder. Each year, for the past decadenand more, the exhibitions held in thisnsmall room have left viewers in awe.nThe extraordinary quality of thesenshows devoted to the art of Chinanmakes a visit to China Institutenworthwhile at any time of the year,nbut particularly during one of itsnexhibitions.nFounded in 1926 as an apoliticalnnonprofit organization, China Institutenin America maintains a ChinanHouse in New York City, in which isnfound the fabulous exhibihon room.nThis town house is a gift of Henry R.nLuce, who donated it in 1945 as anmemorial to his father. Dr. HenrynWinters Luce, a missionary in China.nFrom its inception, China Institute innAmerica has sought to promote betternunderstanding between the Americannand Chinese peoples. The aim, in thenwords of Henry R. Luce, “is that ofndiscovering their [Chinese] greatness.n