Dull, Condescending Documentary Fantastic Machine Thinks It Has Images All Figured Out

You can’t deny that the creation of images, thanks to everything from the TV we watch to the social media we participate in, is one of the most prevalent and important facets of our daily lives. But you don’t have to explain it like Fantastic Machine.
The documentary—with the pretentious full title of And the King Said, What a Fantastic Machine, after the British monarch whose coronation Georges Méliès staged and filmed—is a bad undergrad media studies paper, given shape and movement by directors Axel Danielson and Maximilien Van Aertryck. Its shambling, self-important history of the captured image, from camera obscura devices to livestream webcams, is a condescending, eyeroll-inducing lecture for people that’ve never watched a behind-the-scenes clip, used a camera, or thought twice about what they were shoving into their eyeballs. Its intended audience of indie-documentary-watching media illiterates might exist, but I certainly don’t know who they are.
Am I just a jaded media professional, who’s well-versed in things like TV ratings, commercial sales, polarized cable news, and green screens? I mean, yes, I am, but I don’t think that’s the problem here. Your grandmother uses an iPad. Your young cousins are going viral making film snippets, using sophisticated editing techniques so easily that it’d make Golden Age Hollywood’s head spin, and thinking nothing of it. That doesn’t imply that they necessarily think critically about everything they come across online, or in movies, but Danielson and Van Aertryck’s observations are so basic as to be insulting.
Is it easy to note that Méliès’ illusory stop tricks led directly to teens putting similar cuts in their TikToks, without them needing to know The Vanishing Lady? Sure. To remind us that the moving image empowers dictators, plopping down footage of Stalin, Hitler, Trump and Putin? Definitely. These bland clips ask us, “Did you know that movies could be propaganda?” That they could be bad? If you didn’t, an archival interview with Leni Riefenstahl will walk you through Triumph of the Will. Did you also know it can be good, perhaps by documenting proof that the Nazis Riefenstahl filmed committed heinous acts of genocide? Well, don’t worry, Fantastic Machine bluntly clocks you with this right after.