The Artist

The Artist, a surprising film from the people who brought us the outstanding comedies OSS 117: Cairo, Nest of Spies and OSS 117: Lost in Rio, gives us Jean Dujardin in the serious role of George Valentin, a star of the silent era.  Cairo co-star Bérénice Bejo plays the girl he helps, and who winds up helping him when the movies transition to sound.  It won Best Picture last year, and it’s a fine introduction to silent film for those who may feel put off by the medium.

Dujardin, Bejo; and supporting actors John Goodman, James Cromwell, Penelope Anne Miller, and the wonderful Beth Grant; provide a sense of familiarity and the comfort of modern acting technique to this mostly silent, beautifully black-and-white film.  Their casting gives us the “in” to ease our adaptation to the silent mind-set, in which we gather all we really need to know by reading the faces and all we’d like to know by reading the placards.  And the story?  Well, the story’s fine.  We enjoy Dujardin’s early triumph in the Silent Era.  We smile and thrill when Bejo hits the scene and begins her rise.  We feel Dujardin’s despair when he feels that life has passed him by.  And … well, see for yourself.

I loved this film’s celebration of the Silents, films that still have the power to entertain and move us.  I loved this film’s look and feel.  I loved its cast, I loved its story, and I loved its resolution.  I loved The Artist.  Here’s looking to more great work (and more silly comedy) from these people in the future.

The Man Who Laughs

In The Man Who Laughs, one of the last great films of the silent era, Conrad Veidt plays Gwynplain, the victim of a horrible childhood disfigurement.  Someone once took a knife to his mouth, carving his face into a perpetual, horrific smile.

He’s a freak, a sideshow attraction, who also happens to be smart and sensitive and good.  How can someone like that hope to find anything approaching happiness in 18^th century England?

I’ll leave you to discover the answer.  More interestingly, you should know that The Man Who Laughs, though a Universal production, is among the last great gasps of German Expressionist film.  Director Paul Leni, one of the great German Expressionists, made Waxworks.  Star Conrad Veidt made The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari.  Executive Producer Paul Kohner, formerly head of Universal’s German arm, helped bring them together in Hollywood to make the picture (all three, German Jews, had fled the Nazis).  [Source: Roger Ebert]

Even more interestingly, you should know that this adaptation of a Victor Hugo novel is a genuinely gripping film.  As with most silents, it may take you twenty minutes or so to reorient your brain to the slightly different format.  Once you dial in, however, you’ll find a sympathetic hero, a seductive temptress, dastardly villains, sly humor, and a level of sophistication that’ll inspire you to want to view the movie a second and third time.  All this, plus swordfights, pathos, and even a heroic dog.  What more could you ask for?

So go into The Man Who Laughs to do your homework on German Expressionism, Victor Hugo, and even the history of DC Comics.*  Once you’re there, you’ll lose track of time, lose yourself in the story, and root for Gwynplain to overcome all who stand between him and happiness.  The Man Who Laughs is a historic film.  It’s an influential film.  Most importantly, it’s a good film.

*In 1940, Bob Kane, Jerry Robinson, and Bill Finger created The Joker character to serve as Batman’s nemesis in “Batman #1.”  According to Kane, they modeled the Joker’s look on Veidt in The Man Who Laughs.

Destiny

Fritz Lang's DESTINY is an inventive, entertaining film that captured my imagination.

Somewhere in preindustrial Germany, a young couple sets out upon their life's journey. But Death takes the man away, and the woman will try anything to get him back. She confronts Death and begs for her husband, who responds, "I'm tired of being hated for doing God's will. I'll make you a deal: you get three chances to defeat me. If you succeed, I'll give you your husband back."

And thus the film takes us to palace of the Caliph, where a young Frenchman conspires with the sister of the Caliph to find true love's way. From there, it's on to Venice, where jealousy plays at rapiers with love. Finally, DESTINY takes us to mythic China, where the Emperor takes whom he wants, no matter whether she loves another.

DESTINY's framing device gives each of these tales an overarching urgency, but they'd work as well as stand alone short films. Lang cuts loose here, exploring film's ability to conjure palaces of the imagination, armies of magical miniatures, and the very gates of mortality as he tells the simple story of a woman trying to save the life of her one true love. This is a sumptuous film, full of lore, popular religion, and tales that could find a home in the _Arabian Nights_.

For many, Charlie Chaplin *is* silent film. That's fine, really - he served as my gateway to the era. For the person looking to explore silents outside the realm of comedy, DESTINY is a great place to start. It'll grab you early, it won't let go, and it'll make you glad you sat down with it.

Sunrise: A Tale of Two Humans

Emotionally captivating, visually wonderful, and technically marvelous, F.W. Murnau's SUNRISE: A SONG OF TWO HUMANS is a fitting swan song for the silent era.

Released in 1927, the same year THE JAZZ SINGER heralded the dawn of the talkies, SUNRISE proved that you don't need words to expound upon the human condition. The film tells the story of a marriage in crisis: the man, once happy at home, has fallen in love with another woman; one with expensive tastes. He's been selling the livestock to finance the affair, and now his mistress is really putting the screws to him. "Why," she asks, "doesn't your wife have an 'accident'? Then you could sell the farm and we could move to the city." It's a tempting offer. I'm not going to tell you if he takes her up on it or not.

What I will tell you, however, is that Murnau's touch is never more assured. He helps his actors and actresses sell their roles and, in the process, plays the human heart like a master. We laugh, we cry, we bite our nails, we're wholly lost in the story of these people and wholly vested in their fates. From perfectly timed comic touches like the reactions of a very proper gentlemen to the wardrobe malfunctions of the hapless woman standing beside him to scenes filled with a dark foreboding as rich as any in cinema, this is a film that knows how to work its audience.

Murnau supplements the cast's efforts through an extraordinary collaboration with cinematographers Charles Rosher and Karl Struss, men who figured out how to make their camera glide through space, use multiple exposures to create heightened realities, and even pull off some kind of trick that looks just like a modern green screen. These men's collective eye for composition and technical expertise combine to create a world sometimes simple, sometimes extraordinarily dazzling, and ever interesting. There's always something happening in every corner of the frame in SUNRISE, and I look forward to teasing out more details in subsequent viewings.

No kidding, folks: this movie has everything. It's a flat-out masterpiece, and well deserving of its Academy Awards (Best Picture, Unique and Artistic Production; Best Cinematographer; Best Actress in a Leading Role). What a gem.

The Phantom of the Opera

Snitz Edwards had a great couple of years there in '24 and '25. First, his name was Snitz, which is just plain awesome no matter what year it is. Second, '24 was the year he played Fagin to Fairbanks' Twist in THE THIEF OF BAGDAD and '25 was the year he got the comic relief duties in THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA. This guy had one hell of a great agent.

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA needed Snitz's touch; otherwise, it'd be too dire, too bleak to make for a very good time at the movies. Its damsel, Christine Daae, welcomes the murdering phantom when he's propelling her career, but spurns him for some fop as soon as soon as she gets a look at poor Phant's ugly mug. The Phantom is a psychotic stalker for whom we're supposed to feel some pity, but it's hard to feel pity for a psychotic stalker. About the only guy other than Snitz for whom we can even root is a French secret policeman, but how does one work up much gusto for the secret police?

What THE PHANTOM does have going for it is some great costume, set, and (especially) makeup work, and a deliciously slow tease and reveal of the Phantom himself. But I couldn't hook into it because I didn't care about the fate of either Daae or her foppish boyfriend. They should've given Snitz a bigger part.

The Kid

The new year is barely two weeks old, and I already have a movie memory for the ages.

There's a scene in THE KID during which the '20s equivalent of Child Protective Services shows up to deliver young Jackie Coogan from the loving squalor of life with tramp Charlie Chaplin. It's heart-rending stuff, as the kid screams for the only father he's ever known and the tramp tries everything he can think of to save his son. I was into it, as I always am, but I took a moment to glance over and see how it was working for my seven-year-old.

He was horrified and heartsick and totally, completely captivated. I won't forget the look on his face as he whispered, "Go, go!" for a long time.

Later, there was laughter, and the ending sewed everything up nicely. But what a delight to see THE KID capture the imagination of my kid, as it has mine for so many viewings. Surely, this film deserves its place in the canon.

The Passion of Joan of Arc

Carl Theodore Dreyer's THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (1928) is a compelling, thought-provoking, and aesthetically rewarding film.

THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC is a passion play that draws clear parallels between Joan and Jesus. Like Jesus, Joan is hauled before a politically loaded court, asked questions designed to trip her, and ultimately meets her fate. In this telling, drawn from court documents, Joan may be insane, she may be enlightened (to use a term from another religious tradition), or she may simply be a scared kid who's in way over her head. Maybe she's all three. Maria Falconetti, in her only film role, plays Joan almost as a blank slate, allowing us to project our interpretations of her predicament and her reactions to it onto her sometimes impassive, sometimes ecstatic, sometimes terrified face.

While the film wraps us in fascination, it prods us to thought. How different were Joan's ecclesiastical courts from Christ's? Why the fascination with styles of dress and the religious implications of gender-normed clothing? To what extent did Joan's ecclesiastical judges belive in what they were doing, and to what extent were they either saving their own necks or expanding their power with the dominant political forces of the day?

These considerations alone would make for a commendable film, but Dreyer compounds and magnifies them with his choices in the creation of the film's look and feel. The architecture of the fortress in which the action proceeds is unsettling and off kilter in a way that alludes to German expressionism without becoming overwhelmed by it. His harsh, unforgiven lighting and camera work lends the production a documentary feel that adds to its immediacy. And his direction of the actors themselves feels spot on. These felt like real people undergoing real tests, not early film actors hamming it up.

Criterion, as usual, does commendable work with this film. I love that a company can build a business model around the public good, and Criterion consistently does that by restoring and presenting the very finest of cinema. THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC is as crisp as we could want, and it's a pleasure to view.

I loved this movie.

Safety Last!

While GRANDMA'S BOY may be funnier that SAFETY LAST!, there's no topping the latter's dazzling combination of comedy and acrophobia.

Harold Lloyd is off the Big City to make his mark and earn enough to marry his best girl (Mildred Davis), but things aren't working out so well. He's just getting by and, when Mildred shows up, he needs to find a way to make good on his empty boasts of success. If you care about movies, you know that, somehow, this will end up with Harold dangling from a clockface, high above the city. How he gets in that predicament, and how he gets out of it, is great fun.

And there's plenty of fun to be had throughout SAFETY LAST!. Lloyd's character is so gosh-darn charming that you can't help but root for him, and you love to see him come out on top. From a well-executed boarding-house sequence to a near-riot in a department store to Lloyd's vertiginous climb to that clock face and beyond, the comedy, both situational and gag-oriented snaps.

Most impressive, perhaps, is that famous climb to the clock and beyond. It manages to walk a line between scary and funny, and it had me both chuckling and wincing with acrophobia from start to finish. What a treat.

SAFETY LAST! is out on DVD, and the print looks fantastic. Put this movie at the top of your queue.

Cops

My kid has been on a SpongeBob kick lately. I can take the cartoon in small doses, but I burn out after an episode or two. That's why I put my foot down the other night: "No SpongeBob. There's gotta be something better on the TiVo."

And there it was on the list, a Buster Keaton picture by the name of COPS which had aired on the station that has become the only reason I continue to pay for TV: TCM. COPS begins with a rejection: a wealthy young lady tells the hopeful Buster that she won't marry him until he makes it in business. Well, Keaton's no slouch. Before he knows it, he's the proud owner of a cart full of household goods that may or may not technically be his, but that's not really a problem until he, well, the title does imply that cops get involved, so I'm not giving away too much, am I?

This is a terrific chase movie, loaded with stunts both funny and dazzling. We rewound bits and pieces several times over, both for guffaws and wows, and the aforementioned kid chuckled, giggled, and outright laughed far more than I've ever seen him do while watching SpongeBob. Thanks, TCM, for providing a home for so many wonderful silents. You make my satellite subscription worth every penny.

Man With The Movie Camera

Dziga Vertov's MAN WITH THE MOVIE CAMERA (1929) begins with a declaration that reads: The film Man with a Movie Camera represents an experimentation in the cinematic transmission of visual phenomena without the use of intertitles, without the help of a script, and without the help of a theater. This new experimentation work by Kino-Eye is directed towards the creation of an authentically international absolute language of cinema – ABSOLUTE KINOGRAPHY – on the basis of its complete separation from the language of theatre and literature." 'Great,' I thought. 'Here comes an hour of self-important, Marxist twaddle.' Only MAN WITH THE MOVIE CAMERA isn't an hour of self-important, Marxist twaddle. It's an energetic experiment with filmmaking, full of vigor and delight in the tools and techniques of the form.

MAN WITH THE MOVIE CAMERA chronicles 24 hours in an agglomeration of Ukrainian cities. "Chronicles" may not be the correct term, however. "Riffs on" may be more accurate. This film loves to play with multiple exposures, creative editing, and the mounting kinetic energy of quick cut after quick cut to give us a portrait of life, perhaps as lived and perhaps as dreamed, in the Soviet Union of its day. It's moved along by a delightful and wholly original score, performed by the Alloy Orchestra from Vertov's notes, that both speaks to the action onscreen and manages to remain intrinsically fascinating. This is a just a neat, entertaining glimpse into a different time and place. I was sorry when it ended.

Grandma's Boy

Harold Lloyd's GRANDMA'S BOY is laugh-out-loud funny. Not "amusing, but I'm mostly watching it for its historical significance" funny, but no-kidding, laugh-out-loud funny.

Here's the setup: Lloyd's the town coward. He's competing with the town bully for the hand of a local lass, but will he rise above his fears and become the man she needs? Ok, it's not that exciting a setup, but it's all in the execution.

Lloyd executes as well as anybody. His film moves right along from one gag to the next, and his inherent likeability keeps us engaged throughout. The supporting characters are interesting and memorable, and the whole picture sets just the right tone of comic danger and conflict. What a treat!

Speedy

Harold Lloyd's last silent picture, 1928's SPEEDY, is an enjoyable romp through a New York City that we'll never see again. From Penn Station to Yankee Stadium to Times Square to Coney Island, SPEEDY crafts an adventure both fascinating and funny.

In SPEEDY, Lloyd's a well-meaning chap who can't seem to hold a job for very long. That's ok, because he's a resourceful sort and he can be counted on to come through when the chips are down. The first half of the film has him bouncing from job to job but, once he finds himself in the second half, he enlists all his powers and all his friends in service to rescuing his father's business.

SPEEDY works because Lloyd is such an agreeable fellow, and because he makes full use of New York City in the film. It's practically a travelogue for another time, and it even features a brief role for the Babe himself, Babe Ruth as a man who absolutely has to get to Yankee Stadium on time.

SPEEDY didn't make me fall off the couch, but I found it funny, warm, and good use of time. Enjoy.

My Best Girl

MY BEST GIRL is an excellent picture.

Here's the setup: Mary Pickford plays Maggie Johnson, a stock clerk at Merrill's Department Store. When Charles Rogers's Joe Grant hires on, sparks fly and it isn't long before the two are hopelessly in love. But there's trouble: Joe Grant is actually Joe Merrill, scion of the wealthy merchant family, and he's engaged to a high-society girl. Will Pickford and her working-class sensibility triumph over the objections of Merrill's family and the dicates of upper-crust society? Does the sun rise in the morning?

Ok, so the storyline isn't exactly unique to the genre. What sells this movie, however, is Pickford's brilliant comic performance as the put-upon Maggie, a young woman trying to fulfill her responsibilites while carving out a little happiness for herself. Pickford is a mistress of the doubletake, and she excells at keeping the film's comic tone alive through all its twists and turns. When she shifts gears and goes for straight drama in the climax, we buy it and ride along with her. MY BEST GIRL absolutely hooked me.

Under the Roofs of Paris

René Clair's UNDER THE ROOFS OF PARIS (1930) is a lovely picture with one element so disturbing that I wonder if it was anachronistic even at the time of its release.

ROOFS, an early foray into the world of talkies, looks and feels like a silent movie for much of its running time. In fact, recording with the new technology was so cumbersome that Clair chose to use dialogue only when absolutely necessary, creating a hybrid of the two styles. It works, and it brings us the best of both worlds: the physical lyricism of a silent picture combined with the naturalism of a talkie.

But how's the movie? It's delightful. It paints a loving portrait of lower-class Paris, filling it with denizens kind and criminal, and its lead character, Albert, is a pleasant and agreeable guy. Here's the setup: Albert's a sheet-music salesman who conducts street-corner singalongs, selling copies of the music to anyone who might want to join in. He falls in love with Pola, a Romanian immigrant who's involved with a local thug. Complications ensue.

The disturbing element is the character of Pola. She's a cypher, a trophy, nothing more. She falls right in with whichever man claims her at the moment, seeming to let herself be carried along by fate. Was this the feminine ideal of the time?

That reservation aside, 'Under the Rooftops of Paris' is a good time, both for its place in cinema history and its light, loving touch. I enjoyed the heck out of it.

Faust

I think I would have enjoyed looking at stills from FAUST more than I did watching the actual movie.

F.W. Murnau made FAUST in 1926, four years after NOSFERATU. It's aesthetic has more in common with 1920's THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI, however. Buildings lean one upon the next in menacing fashion, light and shadow play to highlight real people in unreal settings, and the whole proceedings looks, well, fabulous. The problem is, I couldn't keep my eyes open.

Really, I couldn't. I was well-rested when I sat down for FAUST but I fell asleep twice - count it, twice - while watching. The pacing was painfully slow, the hero too vapid to believe, and the villain, well, Klaus Maria Brandauer's 1981 portrayal walks all over Emil Jannings's Mephistopholes. [Note: Brandauer played an actor playing the role of Mephistopheles in the 1981 film of the same name. The scenes of Brandauers character in, well, character are dazzling.]

I should've just googled some screencaps.