Hollywood is often thought of—and certainly by Hollywood itself—as a progressive haven. However, in the decade after the passage of the Civil Rights Act, the film industry grew deeply conservative when it came to conflicts over racial justice. Amid black self-assertion and white backlash, many of the most heated struggles in film were fought over employment. In A Piece of the Action, Eithne Quinn reveals how Hollywood catalyzed wider racial politics, through representation on screen as well as in battles over jobs and resources behind the scenes. Based on extensive archival research and detailed discussions of films like In the Heat of the Night, Sweet Sweetback’s Baadasssss Song, Super Fly, Claudine, and Blue Collar, this volume considers how issues of race and labor played out on the screen during the tumultuous early years of affirmative action. Quinn charts how black actors leveraged their performance capital to force meaningful changes to employment and film content. She examines the emergence of Sidney Poitier and other African Americans as A-list stars; the careers of black filmmakers such as Melvin Van Peebles and Ossie Davis; and attempts by the federal government and black advocacy groups to integrate cinema. Quinn also highlights the limits of Hollywood’s liberalism, showing how predominantly white filmmakers, executives, and unions hid the persistence of racism behind feel-good stories and public-relations avowals of tolerance. A rigorous analysis of the deeply rooted patterns of racial exclusion in American cinema, A Piece of the Action sheds light on why conservative and corporate responses to antiracist and labor activism remain pervasive in today’s Hollywood.

Hollywood Unions is a unique collection that tells the stories of the unions and guilds that have organized motion picture and television labor: IATSE, the DGA, SAG-AFTRA, and the WGA. The Hollywood unions represent a wide swath of the workers making media: from directors and stars to grips and makeup artists. People today know some of these organizations from their glitzy annual awards celebrations, but the unions’ actual importance is in bargaining with the Association of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP) on behalf of 331,000 workers in the motion picture and television industry. The Hollywood unions are not neutral institutions but rather have long histories of jurisdictional battles, competitions with rival unions, and industry-altering strikes. They have supported the industry’s workers through the Great Depression, World War II, the McCarthy era, the collapse of the studio system, the rise of television, runaway production, fights for gender parity, the digital revolution, and a global pandemic. The history of these unions has contributed to making media work sustainable in the long term and helped shape the conditions and production cultures of Hollywood.

Hollywood Independent dissects the Mirisch Company, one of the most successful employers of the package-unit system of film production, producing classic films like The Apartment (1960), West Side Story (1961), The Great Escape (1963) and The Thomas Crown Affair (1968) as irresistible talent packages. Whilst they helped make the names of a new generation of stars including Steve McQueen and Shirley MacLaine, as well as banking on the reputations of established auteurs like Billy Wilder, they were also pioneers in dealing with controversial new themes with films about race (In the Heat of the Night), gender (Some Like it Hot) and sexuality (The Children's Hour), devising new ways of working with film franchises (The Magnificent Seven, The Pink Panther and In the Heat of the Night spun off 7 Mirisch sequels between them) and cinematic cycles, investing in adaptations of bestsellers and Broadway hits, exploiting frozen funds abroad and exploring so-called runaway productions. The Mirisch Company bridges the gap between the end of the studio system by about 1960 and the emergence of a new cinema in the mid-1970s, dominated by the Movie Brats.

The racial ideology of colorblindness has a long history. In 1963, Martin Luther King famously stated, "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character." However, in the decades after the civil rights movement, the ideology of colorblindness co-opted the language of the civil rights era in order to reinvent white supremacy, fuel the rise of neoliberalism, and dismantle the civil rights movement's legal victories without offending political decorum. Yet, the spread of colorblindness could not merely happen through political speeches, newspapers, or books. The key, Justin Gomer contends, was film--as race-conscious language was expelled from public discourse, Hollywood provided the visual medium necessary to dramatize an anti–civil rights agenda over the course of the 70s, 80s, and 90s. In blockbusters like Dirty Harry, Rocky, and Dangerous Minds, filmmakers capitalized upon the volatile racial, social, and economic struggles in the decades after the civil rights movement, shoring up a powerful, bipartisan ideology that would be wielded against race-conscious policy, the memory of black freedom struggles, and core aspects of the liberal state itself.

In the late 1960s, the white counterculture enters the screens with Bonnie and Clyde and Easy Rider; in 1976, a backlash seems to have taken place with white male protagonists such as Travis Bickle, Howard Beale, and Rocky Balboa being surrounded by non-white and female others. But these films cannot be neatly identified as left-wing or right-wing, liberal or conservative; in their politics of affect, they rather express important affinities. This study proposes the New Hollywood as an entry point into a cultural history of the postwar era sensitive to the intersections of affect, race, and gender. Following a narrative that spreads from the immediate postwar years to the 1970s, the study examines how New Hollywood films were part of a discursive and affective reconfiguration of white masculinity: the emergence of a subject position of countercultural whiteness and its affective style of expressivity. Examining affective affinities between films of the era complicates the narrative of polarization that shapes commentary on the history of American politics, emphasizing instead the shared racialized and gendered politics of the white counterculture and those reactionary forces that allegedly lashed back against it.

Choosing ten films that were considered "suspicious," "un-American," or even "dangerous" by the conservative media, and especially the infamous "House Un-American Affairs Committee" (HUAC) between 1947-1953, each chapter briefly outlines how progressive Christians should have supported the message of the film rather than condemned it. Each chapter explains why the film was considered controversial, and then proposes a number of arguments drawing heavily on Scripture, arguing that Christians should have, and still should, consider these films about social justice issues to be deeply biblical, and not "un-American." Intended for an adult education series, this book can serve as a kind of "handbook" for a church or parish "Film Series" that raises serious questions of social justice and Christian response.

As a period of film history, The American New Wave (ordinarily understood as beginning in 1967 and ending in 1980) remains a preoccupation for scholars and audiences alike. In traditional accounts, it is considered to be bookended by two periods of conservatism, and viewed as a (brief) period of explosive creativity within the Hollywood system. From Bonnie and Clyde to Heaven's Gate, it produced films that continue to be watched, discussed, analysed and poured over. It has, however, also become rigidly defined as a cinema of director-auteurs who made a number of aesthetically and politically significant films. This has led to marginalization and exclusion of many important artists and filmmakers, as well as a temporal rigidity about what and who is considered part of the 'New Wave proper'. This collection seeks to reinvigorate debate around this area of film history. It also looks in part to demonstrate the legacy of aesthetic experimentation and political radicalism after 1980 as part of the 'legacy' of the New Wave. Thanks to important new work that questions received scholarly wisdom, reveals previously marginalised filmmakers (and the films they made), considers new genres, personnel, and films under the banner of 'New Wave, New Hollywood', and reevaluates the traditional approaches and perspectives on the films that have enjoyed most critical attention, New Wave, New Hollywood: Reassessment, Recovery, Legacy looks to begin a new discussion about Hollywood cinema after 1967.