David Thomson, an esteemed film critic and historian, has released a new comprehensive work exploring the history of cinema with a distinctively revisionist perspective. Known for his extensive body of writing on film, Thomson navigates the evolution of Hollywood alongside notable European and East Asian arthouse contributions, presenting a sprawling narrative that spans from the early photographic experiments of Eadweard Muybridge to contemporary productions such as Sean Baker’s *Anora* and Tracey Emin’s *Why I Never Became a Dancer*.

Thomson’s latest work, a three-hour literary journey, delves into cinema’s grand legacy while also confronting its darker dimensions. He highlights instances where movies have reinforced cultural conformity and coarsened public taste, citing examples such as D.W. Griffith’s *Birth of a Nation*, notorious for its glorification of the Ku Klux Klan, and King Vidor’s 1928 film *The Crowd*, which parallels the tragic real-life story of leading actor James Murray. Thomson draws attention to the medium’s unique power as a populist cultural force, pointing out that unlike live performance, film’s unfolding narrative is impervious to audience interference.

At the heart of Thomson’s revisionism is a dual engagement: a candid critique of cinema’s commercial and cultural pressures and a fervent celebration of its artistic and historical achievements. He contends that the theatrical cinema experience faces challenges from the superior image quality and accessibility of home streaming platforms, referencing Stephen Graham’s Netflix drama *Adolescence* as an example of contemporary success outside traditional theatres. While this argument may invite debate among cinephiles, Thomson’s willingness to question the ongoing dominance of cinema halls is notable and reflects broader industry concerns.

Thomson also offers reflections on different cinematic eras and auteurs. He contrasts the brooding sensibilities characteristic of the American New Wave with the more optimistic tone of filmmakers like Steven Spielberg, whom he describes as a pivotal figure who revitalized the art form during a period of existential uncertainty. Despite his critical stance on Hollywood’s frequent reliance on romantic themes—suggesting that “love” has become a hollowed-out motif—the book maintains a largely reverential tone toward canonical filmmakers and stars. Thomson’s prose often anticipates a respectful nod to these icons, creating a tone that intertwines passionate advocacy with incisive skepticism.

The title of the book echoes a moment from Henry James’s 1881 novel *The Portrait of a Lady*, which Thomson regards as an early cinematic tableau: a fleeting image charged with complex emotional meaning. This metaphor encapsulates his broader ambition to both honor and interrogate cinema’s capacity to capture and illuminate human experience in all its ambiguity.

Ultimately, Thomson’s work stands as a wide-ranging, ambitious survey of film history, combining erudition with a personal, idiosyncratic voice. His revisionist approach lies less in overturning established histories than in insisting on a comprehensive, multifaceted retelling that embraces cinema’s contradictions, commercial realities, and enduring allure.