Cinephilia and History, or The Wind in the Trees is in part a history of cinephilia, in part an attempt to recapture the spirit of cinephilia for the discipline of film studies, and in part an experiment in cinephilic writing. Cinephiles have regularly fetishized contingent, marginal details in the motion picture image: the gesture of a hand, the wind in the trees. Christian Keathley demonstrates that the spectatorial tendency that produces such cinematic encounters -- a viewing practice marked by a drift in visual attention away from the primary visual elements on display -- in fact has clear links to the origins of film as defined by André Bazin, Roland Barthes, and others. Keathley explores the implications of this ontology and proposes the "cinephiliac anecdote" as a new type of criticism, a method of historical writing that both imitates and extends the experience of these fugitive moments.

The advent of new screening practices and viewing habits in the twenty-first century has spurred a public debate over what it means to be a “cinephile.” In Anxious Cinephilia, Sarah Keller places these competing visions in historical and theoretical perspective, tracing how the love of movies intertwines with anxieties over the content and impermanence of cinematic images. Keller reframes the history of cinephilia from the earliest days of film through the French New Wave and into the streaming era, arguing that love and fear have shaped the cinematic experience from its earliest days. This anxious love for the cinema marks both institutional practices and personal experiences, from the curation of the moviegoing experience to the creation of community and identity through film festivals to posting on social media. Through a detailed analysis of films and film history, Keller examines how changes in cinema practice and spectatorship create anxiety even as they inspire nostalgia. Anxious Cinephilia offers a new theoretical approach to the relationship between spectator and cinema and reimagines the concept of cinephilia to embrace its diverse forms and its uncertain future.

Today, hardly anything moves as fast across the globe as images and media. This fact opens new avenues to explore social and cultural change, but also poses new theoretical challenges of how to grasp and better understand these changes and flows. Moreover, such movements across geophysical and cultural borders have a historical depth that enables us to explore globalisation and localisation in new ways. Transculturality is still a relatively new field of research in the Humanities through which we sharpen our competence and ‘literacy’ to come to terms with the complexity of globalised cultures. This volume ventures into new domains of research on the transculturality of images and addresses the need to develop new or modify established often ethno- and Eurocentric interpretations of what happens when images travel. It does so by bringing together cutting-edge research from fields such as art history, cultural anthropology, colonial history, Islamic studies, religious studies and literary criticism.

The Routledge Companion to Film History is an indispensable guide for anyone studying film history for the first time. The approach taken presents a substantial and readable overview of the field and provides students with a tool of reference that will be valuable throughout their studies. The volume is divided into two parts. The first is a set of eleven essays that approaches film history around the following themes: History of the moving image Film as art and popular culture Production process Evolution of sound Alternative modes: experimental, documentary, animation Cultural difference Film’s relationship to history The second is a critical dictionary that explains concepts, summarizes debates in film studies, defines technical terms, describes major periods and movements, and discusses historical situations and the film industry. The volume as a whole is designed as an active system of cross-references: readers of the essays are referred to dictionary entries (and vice versa) and both provide short bibliographies that encourage readers to investigate topics.

What role does love—of cinema, of cinema studies, of teaching and learning—play in teaching film? For the Love of Cinema brings together a wide range of film scholars to explore the relationship between cinephilia and pedagogy. All of them ask whether cine-love can inform the serious study of cinema. Chapter by chapter, writers approach this question from various perspectives: some draw on aspects of students' love of cinema as a starting point for rethinking familiar films or generating new kinds of analyses about the medium itself; others reflect on how their own cinephilia informs the way they teach cinema; and still others offer new ways of writing (both verbally and audiovisually) with a love of cinema in the age of new media. Together, they form a collection that is as much a guide for teaching cinephilia as it is an energetic dialogue about the ways that cinephilia and pedagogy enliven and rejuvenate one another.

Kristi McKim offers close-analyses of films in which attachment and detachment, intimacy and distance, ephemera and endurance become more visible and meaningful. Films discussed include Wim Wenders' Wings of Desire , Agnès Varda's Jacquot de Nantes , Doris Dörrie's Cherry Blossoms and Olivier Assayas' Summer Hours.

Taking a transnational approach to the study of film culture, this book draws on ethnographic fieldwork in a South Korean university film club to explore a cosmopolitan cinephile subculture that thrived in an ironic unevenness between the highly nationalistic mood of commercial film culture and the intense neoliberal milieu of the 2000s. As these time-poor students devoted themselves to the study of film that is unlikely to help them in the job market, they experienced what a student described as ‘a different kind of fun’, while they appreciated their voracious consumption of international art films as a very private matter at a time of unprecedented boom in the domestic film industry. This unexpectedly vibrant cosmopolitan subculture of student cinephiles in neoliberal South Korea makes the nation’s film culture more complex and interesting than a simple nationalistic affair.