It comes as some surprise to read that Kaminer Manó Kertész, born in Budapest in 1886, had already made the substantial number of 70 films for the nascent Hungarian and Austrian industries before being headhunted by Warner Bros. as a contract director, arriving in Hollywood in 1926. Where, once ensconced, he anglicised his name to Michael Curtiz.

Editors R. Barton Palmer and Murray Pomerance recall that with the British, French and German economies severely strained, even wrecked, by the First World War, Kertész was among the most talented of Europe’s cineastes to be reborn in the United States. These were names of such prominence as Fritz Lang (born in Vienna, Austria, 1890), Ernst Lubitsch (born in Berlin, Germany, 1892), Billy Wilder (born in Sucha Beskidzka, Austria-Hungary, now Poland, 1906), Douglas Sirk (born in Hamburg, Germany, 1897) and myriad others.

Palmer and Pomerance say the influx resolved the question of which national film industry would take a leading position in the world market. Hollywood in the 1920s was becoming the cinema that in one way or another absorbed the many cinemas of Europe, thus attaining a dominance it would never surrender. To make films for the world, the US industry recognised the advantage of enlisting the world (which in effect meant Europe) in their making, adopting and adapting important styles and trends that had proved their worth abroad.

In mining others, Hollywood denied their services to would-be competitors. As the editors note: ”By the time hostilities were renewed in 1939, sending the Continent into a near-suicidal spiral whose finale would again advantage US filmmakers, Hollywood had become the site of a complexly internationalized industrial-artistic practice, reflecting, among other cultural influences, Continental tastes, styles, and thematic obsessions that were brought to North America by an émigré community of considerable size and ever-growing importance.”

And, they say, it would hardly be exaggerating to say that Curtiz, more than any of the emigrés, exemplified Hollywood’s internationalism during the classic studio period of 1920-1965. With more experience than most, perhaps all, of the others, he made more features (about 100, including with more than one directorial credit) than any American director.

Among them are some of the most enduring of this era in all the main genres: spectacular action films (”Captain Blood”, 1935; ”The Charge of the Light Brigade”, 1936; ”The Adventures of Robin Hood”, 1938; ”Santa Fe Trail” and ”The Sea Hawk”, both 1940); biopics (”The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex”, 1939; ”Yankee Doodle Dandy”, 1942; ”Young Man with a Horn”, 1950; ”Jim Thorpe: All-American”, 1951; ”The Story of Will Rogers”, 1952); melodramas and film noir (”Four Daughters”, 1938; ”Daughters Courageous”, 1939; ”Mildred Pierce”, 1945); musicals (”Night and Day”, 1946; ”White Christmas”, 1954; ”King Creole”, 1958); and westerns (”Dodge City”, 1939; ”Virginia City”, 1940; ”The Proud Rebel”, 1958).

But… the two editors worry that such variety means Curtiz is not considered an auteur, and they dedicate the book ”To Hollywood’s unsung metteurs en scène, and those who cherish them”. The French phrase, meaning “scene-setter” or simply ”director” , suggests someone who has technical competence but does not add personal style to the aesthetic of the film, as auteurs do. Thus, despite Curtiz’s importance in Hollywood he ”has not been well served by critical protocols underwritten by the neoromantic view of artistic single-mindedness”.

Palmer and Pomerance have assembled essays by film studies scholars to give Curtiz his due.  Palmer is Calhoun Lemon Professor of Literature emeritus at Clemson University, South Carolina. Pomerance is a Canadian film scholar, author and professor, and the two have written or edited many books about cinema. Here they collect 20 essays.

Another telling number is that because Curtiz knew how to quickly make films which  were both inexpensive and good, in the 1930s he made 45 features for Warner Bros, an impressive demonstration of energy and competence unmatched by any of his contemporaries.

Hard-driving, technically proficient and with a flair for effective dramatising, he perfectly suited the studio’s not easily reconciled needs for efficient, rapid production and noticeable aesthetic value. His ”Casablanca” (1942) is described here as likely the classic industry’s most beloved dramatic film, and certainly one of the great examples of ensemble performance, with no less than Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Paul Henreid, Claude Rains, Conrad Veidt, Sydney Greenstreet and Peter Lorre for a director to guide.

Mark Glancy of Queen Mary University of London contributes an excellent essay on the making of “Night and Day” (1946), starring Cary Grant as songwriter Cole Porter. Grant, one of the most popular leading men in Hollywood, had great influence over each film he made, and his standard contract included a $100,000 fee, approval of script and director, and 6pm daily finish. Six weeks or so before filming was due to begin he announced he was taking a six-month hiatus. Returned, he faulted sets, wardrobes, makeup, script and more.

When the final shot was completed, Grant spoke so that everyone on the set could hear him, telling Curtiz: “Mike, I want you to know that if I’m chump enough ever to be caught working for you again, you’ll know I’m either broke or I’ve lost my mind.” “Night and Day” proved to be extraordinarily popular, one of the biggest hits of the decade and earning $7.7 million.

Readers might expect something similarly entertaining and informative in the chapter on “Casablanca”, one of the greatest Hollywood films, but writer Bill Krohn, author of “Hitchcock at Work”, opts for a silly title, “Curtiz in the White House” (no, not DC) and then his overly analytical essay is little better, actually spending considerable time examining the trailer. Charitably,  perhaps it is a laudable attempt to find something new to write about a much-written-about film, but the editors could have done some judicious editing, one feels.

General opinion holds that Elvis Presley’s talents as a singer did not extend to his acting, and his 31 films are largely uncelebrated, but essayist Landon Palmer notes that while Curtiz is credited with developing Presley’s most celebrated acting, in “King Creole” (1958), this exceptional place in its star’s filmography has hardly extended to its director’s reputation.

Nathan Holmes, teacher of film and media studies, deals with ”Curtiz at Sea”, looking at the maritime exploits of ”Captain Blood” (1935), ”The Sea Hawk” (1940), ”The Sea Wolf” (1941) and ”The Breaking Point” (1950), while Homer B. Pettey, a professor of film, tackles the Wild West, positing that In many ways Curtiz ushered in the great age of the feature-length western, convincing studio bosses that audience interest would yield sustainable profits.

Other contributors look at Curtiz’s achievements in female melodrama and women’s film. Two films he made with star Kay Francis, ”Mandalay” (1934) and ”Stolen Holiday” (1937), creatively negotiated the strictures of studio censorship and repression.

Constantly working and valuable to his studio, Curtiz was indeed a man of many cinemas, displaying a different talent, one that the Cahiers du cinéma auteurists found difficult to appreciate. Palmer, Pomerance et al show respect for a director who was the very best of the flexible, multi-talented metteurs en scène that the industry needed for its continuing success. A jack-of-most-trades, not just of one, his achievements displayed substantial differences rather than recognisable similarities or signatures. Simply put, the history of US studio filmmaking is unimaginable without him.