Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1928. I have resumed my quest with an apparent masterpiece. Nothing I have seen thus far has presented such deeply varied and expressive characters. Covering only Joan’s trial and execution, almost every shot is a tight close-up, providing a highly charged, claustrophobic scene. Joan’s rapture emanates from the screen and is sharply contrasted by her accusers’ hostile questioning. Watching her continuously confound the theologians was harrowing. There are several grotesque moments, namely the letting of the blood and the menacing cruelty of the torturers, that gave me pause to imagine humanity in 1431. Dreadful to consider. But the film is so dense that repeated viewings would be rewarded despite the heaviness of the subject matter. Another leap forward.
Tag: film
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A Brief Break
I watched a few more films after the Unknown, but never posted about them. It’s been a while since I’ve seen them, and I don’t feel compelled to watch them again solely to write something, so I’ll just enter it in the Captain’s Log.
I saw October (dir. Sergei Eisenstiein). I remember this film being ambitious but incoherent and a bit of a chore to watch.
The Jazz Singer (dir. Alan Crosland) wasn’t much better. This was on the list due to it being the first feature-length “talky”. There wasn’t much to say about it besides its historical significance.
Napoleon (dir. Abel Gance) was a mountain of a movie. A mountain I can not yet climb. It’s so long (378 minutes) and so many scenes drag on for far too long. I got as far as the ships in the rain scene and had to call it quits. Perhaps another time I will revisit.
I remember very little of The Kid Brother (dir. Harold Lloyd).
The Crowd (dir. King Vidor) I remember being struck by its themes – namely the crushing enormity of New York City and also James Murray’s resemblance to Ray Liotta. This is one I would consider watching again, as I do remember being moved by it. I loved the Big Parade (same director) so it’s no surprise I also enjoyed this film.
The Docks of New York (dir. Josef von Sternberg) I remember being very succinct. It feels like it inspired On The Waterfront. I should probably revisit this film in the future, but there is so much more to watch.
And finally, An Andalusian Dog (dir. Luis Buñuel) seems to be known for its image of an eye being sliced with a knife. I don’t recall much else about this film besides some of its surrealistic imagery.
Ok – now on to Joan of Arc and some more detailed output.
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The Unknown
Tod Browning, 1927. Such a crazy premise: A bad man with two thumbs (Lon Chaney) disguises himself as an armless circus performer to avoid arrest. But when he falls in love with Joan Crawford things things get really complicated. It sounds like a comedy, but there is some really weird shit going on here. This is an oddball psychosexual circus drama as well as a morality tale told in the most unconventional way.
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The General
Clyde Bruckman, Buster Keaton, 1927. I can see why some people consider this one of the greatest films ever made. But I did miss Keaton’s more intimate gags that gave way to the big-action ones. Still, undoubtedly great.
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Sunrise
F.W. Murnau, 1927. What a leap for film! I guess the Kubrick stare is really the Murnau stare. Prior to the attempted drowning scene, I had not experienced such a visceral reaction while watching silent cinema. This is a masterpiece and easily my favorite since The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.
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The Gold Rush
Charles Chaplin, 1925. Chaplin fans have said how mesmerized they are by this shot. How could you not be? This kind of filmmaking is ageless.
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Metropolis
Fritz Lang, 1927. The version I watched was just way too long, but this scene is unforgettable.
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The Big Parade
King Vidor, 1925. John Gilbert is magnetic. And for the first time in silent cinema I believe two people are in love. It’s no wonder this was the highest grossing silent, it has everything.
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The Battleship Potemkin
Sergei M. Eisenstein, 1925. One of the many searing images from this film. You don’t forget faces like this.
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The Phantom Of The Opera
Rupert Julian and Lon Chaney, 1925. Chaney is a horrific success, but I can’t stop staring at this still frame from the brief sequence in Technicolor. It makes the film seem so strangely modern.