1920s List Discussion and Suggestions (Lists project Vol. 3)

[nsps]

No adequate release of Page of Madness (none that uses the best availabe source) -- only inadequate "non-commercial" versions.

Inadequate is a polite way of putting it.

[Steven H]

I try not to think about how incredible A Page of Madness could look with the right treatment, it's infuriating. Hopefully some day.

Another fine 20s film that will be making my list is Curtis Bernhardt's The Woman Men Yearn For. Truly an early noir film in almost every way, with low-key lighting and performances that lend to rewarding repeated viewing. Dietrich SLAYS.

[myrnaloyisdope]

If you manage to track down Page of Madness, make sure you watch it with the In The Nursery score accompanying it. It turns it from interesting avant-garde piece to a genuinely haunting experience.

Just finished up with DeMille's The Ten Commandments, the biblical prologue is very impressive, the rest of the film is abysmal. I'm not sure why DeMille would have spent 2/3 of the film on a hackneyed and impossbly heavy-handed modern story, when the biblical stuff is so much more interesting.

[knives]

After going through 3.5 Japanese films (Page of Madness is phenomenal, easy top five) I really have to wonder why '20s Japan doesn't get more kudos. Is it really just availability, because that would be a crying shame. This stuff deserves to be spoken within the same breath as their German cousins.
I hope somebody out there is willing to rescue these films from obscurity.

[zedz]

Japanese silent cinema has been decimated by history to a phenomenal degree. Huge numbers of films (and a lot else!) were destroyed in the firebombing of Tokyo, and because Japanese cinema wasn't exported to anything like the same degree of its European cousins, not a lot could be recovered from overseas holdings. What remains is a very random assortment or those films (like A Page of Madness) fortunate enough to be stashed away in somebody's garden shed.

[Matt]

Also, the craze for archiving and preserving films that hit the US and Europe in the early part of the 20th century did not take hold in Japan until well after WWII. I think we are very lucky that any Japanese films from before that time survive. That's what David Bordwell told me, anyway, so blame him if it's a lie.

[NABOB OF NOWHERE]

That's what David Bordwell told me, anyway...

As Larry Olivier said to me.. "Never name-drop, darling."

[knives]

It would be nice though if Kino, Milestone, or someone similar could release what little there is left. Outside of Digital Meme there hasn't seemed to be a real serious push for what is a very beautiful fragment. There just doesn't seem to be the same urgency to rescue these titles as there is for even the very small name American and European titles. I guess this is just the pain of discovering a new world. Still would be nice to see some company look into at least putting some of these orphans out if not a decent restoration.

[lubitsch]

Is it too hot or don't you folks care anymore or have you seen all the films? I know there are a few members who have already seen a huge chunk of the 20s output, but surely this doesn't go for all.
Anyway I was in Berlin last weekend where in the Babylon cinema (built by GOLEM architect Hans Poelzig) was a silent film festival curated by an acquaintance of mine, Friedemann Beyer who was also head of the Murnau Stiftung. So I dropped in for a few films.
First my great favorite COTTAGE ON DARTMOOR at 10pm with an absurdly low audience of 6 people in the smaller studio cinema. A pity since Stephen Horne played very well and really worked out beautifully the balancing of the film between lots of light humour and dark passions. The film just rolled along with an opening which must have impressed David Lean and influenced his OLIVER TWIST and all the beautiful visual touches you expect from a late silent like lyrical montages, juxtapositions, detail shots, unsusual angles, probing close ups and so on. It's no less impressive how the screenplay steers clear of the melodramatic characters and plots so often shown in silents, it's just the jealous loner, the woman he loves and the guy who gets her, but all reveal unexpected shades of character throughout the film.
Next day was at 8pm a far bigger audience for THE GENERAL in the big hall with Neil Brand speeding through the film. the screening confirmed my feeling that this is rather the SPEED of the 20s more than a comedy, some of the laughs were drowned out by the loud banging on the piano but still it isn't such a laugh machine and I still think that the flaws are quite evident.
Next day at 3:30pm PRINCE ACHMED with Stephen Horne playing beautifully piano and flute for this insanely lovely piece of art. Not only does Reiniger set herself all kinf of difficulties for her scissorwork with all these endlessly filigrane structures, it's also amazing how this is supported by the landscape effects or some wax experiments and supported by an avalanche of story plots where she runs through the stars and deep caverns, hideous monsters and lovely ladies. An audience of 9 people is even for saturday and this time absurdly low.
At 7:45 pm there was one of my other favorite's PANDORA'S BOX though I found the piano score this time rather underwhelming. The new restoration from 2009 financed by Hugh Hefner (big laugh) made me wonder what exactly was new here, but the film still builds act for act towards a gloom yfinale though it was easier to appreciate all the funny moments with an audience.
Then came the heavy blow at 10pm when KURUTTA IPPEJI was scheduled. Amusingly the mail had sent the film to Warsaw which meant that the copy to be shown was ... well my own digital copy that I had sent ahead in order that Neil Brand could prepare his scoring. After banging m head against the wall in desperation I sat down to watch the film which nevertheless looked ok and better than I had feared even if I overheard two conversations after the screening where the viewers complained about the copy. Still the film undeniably packs a wallop with its aggressive montage sequences and the sheer desperation lurking among the enclosed area of the madhouse which is only left for a few flashbacks. The film has a slight problem because there isn't much of a development to the story and it becomes repetitive from a certain point on, but the uncompromising way the subject was tackled and the daring cinematographic technique make it indeed one of the top films of the era. Maybe I'll even some time will see a good copy of it.

[Michael Kerpan]

Even in his later, less avant-garde-ish work, Kinugasa's films seem to have a structure that I find rather chaotic (and not well-formed). I wonder if Kurutta ippeji wasn't something of a "lucky accident" for him. Looking only at his later films, he strikes me as a distinctly minor film maker.

[lubitsch]

Even in his later, less avant-garde-ish work, Kinugasa's films seem to have a structure that I find rather chaotic (and not well-formed). I wonder if Kurutta ippeji wasn't something of a "lucky accident" for him. Looking only at his later films, he strikes me as a distinctly minor film maker.

Well his JUJIRO might is the other known of Japanese 20s cinema, it's a very impressively lit and executed melodrama and these two films are the only ones from the 20s most film fans have seen. Just how minor can he be as a film maker? His later career may have been undistinguished, most western viewers can't check it, but aren't two great films a good sign that he's a major filmmaker? I find the attacks against him from you or Alexander Jacoby in his Critical Handbook on japanese Film Directors a bit puzzling.
After all there are many French director's of the 20s like Gance or L'Herbier who never recaptured their earlier glory in the sound era and we still don't doubt their talents. And people like Kirsanoff or Hochbaum have only a few films to their credit or the opportunity to make films as they pleased and still are thought to be great. Kinugasa's command of film language is so profound in both films that I'd flatly refuse to label his films as lucky shots of a mediocre craftsman.

[Michael Kerpan]

Well, I don't particularly _like_ either Kurutta ippeji aor Jujiro, though I find these "interesting". So I am not the best judge of the level of artistry of this sort of films. I know Prof. Aaron Gerow has a lot more fondness for some of the later films that didn't impress me at all.

I would say making only two arguably important films (out of 100 or more made) is not enough to make one a "great film maker". But competent professionals, working under the right circumstances with the right collaborators, can and do turn out isolated "great films".

[Tommaso]

Is it too hot or don't you folks care anymore or have you seen all the films?

Indeed not, but it was really too hot in the last few weeks to indulge too much into filmwatching, so my kevyip has reached horrible heights. And I was also busy to fill up some gaps from the pre-20s list. Mierendorff's "Die Teufelskirche" (1919), for instance, was a major knock-out which would have easily made it onto my earlier list if I had known it by then. As I don't feel too much like singing the praises of the well-known classics here again at the moment, I'll rather keep on reading the thread for the moment than contributing much; but don't worry, there are certainly some unwatched gems in my to-view-queue, ranging from Fejös to Lang to Schwarz and Stroheim, and I'll report about them once I get around to finally see them.

I share the praise for Cottage on Dartmoor very much. While I consider Ford's approximations of Murnau mainly as failures, Asquith - while also being clearly inspired by the Germans - manages to combine these influences into something distinctly different. An exciting, very well characterized film, and indeed free of melodrama, as you say. Hitchcock fans will also love this, of course.

Ditto for Pandora and A page of madness, of course. The only other Kinugasa film I've been able to see so far is "The Gate of Hell" (1954), which in my view isn't exactly mediocre, but it is pretty conventional and melodramatic, even though the use of colours and sets are absolutely striking. At least this film is certainly 'minor' compared to the jidai-geki works by Kurosawa or Mizoguchi made at the same time.

But Lubitsch is right of course that a possible later decline in his art shouldn't be a reason to dismiss a director who once made a film as unusual as A page of madness. One doesn't even have to think of such a long period of 30 years as in this case. Robert Wiene never made anything that came even close to the inventiveness of Caligari. What is left of Genuine looks promising, but Orlac, while a fine film, is already rather conventional, and don't get me started on the bore that Der Rosenkavalier is.

[Michael Kerpan]

Not sure that noting someone made only a couple of "important" films (in a career with a huge number of films) is "dismissing" the director. Kurutta ippeji and Jujiro are what they are -- and would remain what they are -- even if unattributed to any director. All accounts agree that KInugasa's work prior to these two and after these two were far more conventional. Not sure that any older still films exist -- but lots of later ones do (several came out on unsubbed video but only ever one got distributed in subbed form in the West). FWIW, I think Ichikawa's Actor's Revenge completely obliterates Kinugasa's orginal version.

Gate of Hell _was_ considered pretty mediocre when released in Japan (and has never been reappraised upwards, so far as I know).

[lubitsch]

I share the praise for Cottage on Dartmoor very much. While I consider Ford's approximations of Murnau mainly as failures, Asquith - while also being clearly inspired by the Germans - manages to combine these influences into something distinctly different. An exciting, very well characterized film, and indeed free of melodrama, as you say. Hitchcock fans will also love this, of course.

Hitchcock obviously borrowed the color flash insert for Spellbound, but the whole film with its humor with its slightly bumbling police men, its dark romanticism and the suspense scenes plays very much like a later Hitchcock. Some books on Bristish film manage not the mention the film at all as does e.g. the Film History edited by Nowell-Smith and I just flipped through a book on 40s British cinema where the author points out that Asquith was always hiding behind the stories and doesn't mention his late 20s at all. It's amazing which fools are allowed to write film histories.

Not sure that noting someone made only a couple of "important" films (in a career with a huge number of films) is "dismissing" the director. Kurutta ippeji and Jujiro are what they are -- and would remain what they are -- even if unattributed to any director. All accounts agree that Kinugasa's work prior to these two and after these two were far more conventional. Not sure that any older still films exist -- but lots of later ones do (several came out on unsubbed video but only ever one got distributed in subbed form in the West). FWIW, I think Ichikawa's Actor's Revenge completely obliterates Kinugasa's orginal version.

Gate of Hell _was_ considered pretty mediocre when released in Japan (and has never been reappraised upwards, so far as I know).

Jacoby mentions that Nichirin (1925) was supposed to be interesting and that Reimei izen from 1931 was one of the best-regarded left wing keiko-eiga films. Both are lost as probably is much of the rest of his early output, but he could very well haven been a major director for 6 years with multiple great films before he declined into conventional filmmaking which might well be attributable to the pressure of censorship and a lack of opportunities. Jacoby also mentions that Kawanaka-jima kassen from 1941 was praised as well as his version of the story Sumako the Actress from 1947. This doesn't sound too bad for me. I'm merely puzzled that many Japanese film experts are eager to put Kinugasa down, probably because they want to show that Jigokumon's high reputation (haven't seen it) in the West shows the deficiencies of Western appreciation of Japanese film. I can't remember that gance is ever called just a competent craftsmen who turned out two, three good silents thanks to his collaborators before entering a long, long decline for decades and multiple films.

Anyway it would be nice if some more Kinugasa films would appear in the backchannels, but naturally most of all Kurutta Ippeji needs a proper release though I wonder what exactly is the problem. Rights issues for such a long lost film? After all Digital Meme released silents from the collection of a Benshi speaker and Edition Filmmuseum who always pick up films without any rights trouble plans to release the Suzuki from 1930, so Kurutta and Jujiro surely must be possible, too.

[Michael Kerpan]

There is only one good print source for Kurutta ippeji -- and it belongs to Kinugasa's heirs, I would imagine. So, any hold-up with rights would relate to the right to access that particular source material. Shochiku owns the source print for Crossroads (I think), and it has showed this film at a few retrospectives. I don't think Japanese critics put Kinugasa down because of the Western success of Jigokumon -- just that they were mystified at the popularity of what they considered a completely undistinguished film (compared to other films made in Japan around the same time).

For all these very early films, I believe Japanese copyrights have lapsed -- so ownership of negatives (or good quality prints) is what matters -- not copytight.

[Sloper]

I haven't been watching much lately, less because of the heat than because of the demands of work; I really don't have the time or resources to see enough films to put together a truly credible list this time round. There are about 35 films on mine at the moment, but honestly it's a bit of a stretch. Still, I get a vicarious pleasure from following the discussion, and would love to see more comment on obscurities or established classics.

Anyway, what I have seen recently has not really fired me with a desire to post anything. I watched The Adventures of Prince Achmed and the Walsh/Fairbanks Thief of Bagdad, and was coldly impressed by both. My reaction to Powell's Thief has always been much the same: I think that variety of incident that lubitsch praised earlier is part of the reason I don't respond very much to this story. There isn't a single strong narrative in there, just a fireworks display of (now over-familiar) magical adventures. There are lots of jaw-dropping moments in both films - they're superlative examples of sophisticated animation and Hollywood spectacle respectively - but I couldn't wait for them to end. Reiniger's silent silhouettes and Fairbanks's grinning, swashbuckling persona can only hold my sympathies for so long... I plan to re-visit the Reiniger soon, though, and to watch the extras on the BFI disc. The sequences where Ruttmann's input was most evident were particularly beautiful, and generally this is a film (and a film-maker) I'd like to learn more about.

Then I had another go at Waxworks... I'm blushing as I type this, but I just don't like this film very much. The opening vision of the fairground, and Dieterle's disorientation and discovery of the waxworks exhibit, is such a brilliant and evocative beginning, but then the anodyne romance and the tedious comedy of the Jannings episode throw a bucket of cold water on the whole thing. Sure, the set design is gorgeous in this first episode - as in The Thief of Bagdad, you could linger quite happily over some of these shots - but the acting and storytelling are so pedestrian that I can't bring myself to care. Also, the tinting on the Kino edition really seems to spoil some of the night scenes in this early part of the film. The Veidt episode is still a bit laborious, but much better, mainly because of Veidt, who unlike Jannings can be exaggerated without flapping like an excited goose. The shot of him turning the hour glass over and over again is a little masterpiece in itself, brilliantly sustained. Only the final part of the film, though, really seems to fulfil the early promise and capture something of the waxworks' uncanny qualities, much as Tourneur did in Figures de Cire. I just wished this could have been the longest part of the film, really. The climactic moment when Krauss materialises right in front of Dieterle and attacks him (hope I'm remembering this right, it was a few months ago now) really sends shivers down the spine.

Finally, another Leni, The Cat and the Canary, which I had also seen a long time ago but forgotten all about. This time around I adored it. It's a dumb story, and my god does the comedy not work, but who needs laughs when you have this level of wit and invention. The film is an unbridled pleasure from start to finish, but I have to single out that moment when the dead man's portrait falls from the wall, and the camera records this from the portrait's perspective, with all the relatives gaping in fear down below. It's full of wonderful throwaway moments like that.

The Man Who Laughs arrived in the post the other day, and I can't wait to dig into it.

Oh, and I too love Cottage on Dartmoor, of course, though I'm not sure I agree that it eschews melodrama. The plot seems to me totally perfunctory (although I do like the lead actor - he resembles a psychotic Buster Keaton), merely a vehicle for a lot of supremely entertaining suspense sequences. And the scene in the cinema seems to say everything there is to say about the transition from silents to talkies. I showed this film to a friend recently who is just getting into silent films. Beforehand we watched Battleship Potemkin (the first silent I fell in love with) and he was kind of lukewarm about it, but he was absolutely blown away by the Asquith. It probably is the best introduction to '20s cinema that I can think of.

[knives]

Saw It recently and while it's not particularly interesting, quaint is the first word that comes to mind, it did give me a thought that I hope gets expanded upon. Talkies shot as silents is a pretty commonly accepted thing, but what of vice versa. This film felt more, even ignoring the abundance of intertitles, like a talking picture than a silent. It might be because it relied almost entirely for its humour 'dialouge'. Instead of visual gags the comedy was mined basically the same way as trouble in Paradise or something like that. Hell my dissatisfaction may have been greatly reduced with sound since it was already shot that way.

Also as a minor question what was the extant of von Sternberg's involvement in the film.

[Tommaso]

I watched The Adventures of Prince Achmed and the Walsh/Fairbanks Thief of Bagdad, and was coldly impressed by both. My reaction to Powell's Thief has always been much the same: I think that variety of incident that lubitsch praised earlier is part of the reason I don't respond very much to this story. There isn't a single strong narrative in there, just a fireworks display of (now over-familiar) magical adventures. There are lots of jaw-dropping moments in both films - they're superlative examples of sophisticated animation and Hollywood spectacle respectively - but I couldn't wait for them to end.

And I could have watched them for at least one hour longer I love both versions of the Thief, and while I naturally (for me) prefer Powell's and also saw it first, I have always been surprised about the inventiveness and technical capacity of the Walsh version, too. I see and even agree with your point: this hasn't got too deep characterization, it's 'merely' a series of exciting adventures, it's wholly exotistic and sensationalist. But that's precisely what I like about this film: this is cinema still harking back to the fairground attractions, though so much more sophisticated and developed than the earliest films. Pure entertainment with lots of style all around; the dream factory at an early high point, an early example of a tradition that reached its momentary last climax with "The Lord of the Rings", probably. And the film is proof that not only Fritz Lang was able to create hilarious monsters, even though I'm never really sure whether the Thief was made slightly earlier, at the same time, or slightly later than "Die Nibelungen". Surely nothing you'd pick for an evening on which you want to have something to think about; but for a good 150 minutes or so of pure enjoyment, I can't think of a film that would be closer to my heart in the 20s. I usually approach Waxworks in the same spirit, and it works fine for me (though I share the criticism of the Kino tintings).

[Sloper]

Tommaso, you reminded me how long The Thief of Bagdad is! Indivdually, each episode was about as charming, beautiful and sumptuous as any Hollywood film I've seen from this era. One thing that really took my breath away was the magic carpet effect. But strung together it was all a bit much. (And I couldn't help but think of Lang's magnificent Fafnir during that ridiculous fight with the cave monster - I find the scene in Die Nibelungen so impressive, exciting, and even vaguely moving, that I just can't laugh at it, even though I feel I should on some level...) Still, I can see why it's such a well-loved film, and am sure it will be very high on the final list. My dislike of it is purely personal.

[nsps]

Anyway I was in Berlin last weekend where in the Babylon cinema (built by GOLEM architect Hans Poelzig) was a silent film festival curated by an acquaintance of mine, Friedemann Beyer who was also head of the Murnau Stiftung. So I dropped in for a few films.

First my great favorite COTTAGE ON DARTMOOR at 10pm with an absurdly low audience of 6 people in the smaller studio cinema. A pity since Stephen Horne played very well and really worked out beautifully the balancing of the film between lots of light humour and dark passions. The film just rolled along with an opening which must have impressed David Lean and influenced his OLIVER TWIST and all the beautiful visual touches you expect from a late silent like lyrical montages, juxtapositions, detail shots, unsusual angles, probing close ups and so on. It's no less impressive how the screenplay steers clear of the melodramatic characters and plots so often shown in silents, it's just the jealous loner, the woman he loves and the guy who gets her, but all reveal unexpected shades of character throughout the film.

Horne went to Babylon almost straight from the San Francisco SIlent Film Festival, which I was covering for Moving Pictures. And if I had endless resources, I would have loved to follow him straight to Berlin. Horne played a portion of his DARTMOOR accompaniment (the movie scene) during the discussion on silent film accompaniment.

I'm quite disheartened to hear of the low turnout in Berlin. In San Francisco, the Castro was often packed, and turnouts were even respectable for the 10AM "archives" presentations. Rather than go through all the festival's films, I'll mention the one's I hadn't seen before:

THE FLYING ACE (Norman, 1926): An absolutely charming cast props up a detective film with no rhyme to its mystery, no budget, and no creative filmmaking to get around that low budget. Interesting mainly as an example of a "race film" with an all-black cast.

ROTAIE (Rails) (Camerini, 1929): An expressionistic fable of life swept up in the current of a changing Italy, most devastating in its first act, as it portrays a desperate young couple on the brink of suicide. Horne's magnificent accompaniment really sold the film, as it so often does.

A SPRAY OF PLUM BLOSSOMS (Bu Wancang, 1931): Not elligible for this list, as it was made in 1931, but still a nice showcase of one of China's great stars, Lingyu Ruan. The plot goes a bit off the rails and goes all Robin Hood in the third act, but still enjoyable.

THE SHAKEDOWN (Wyler, 1929): While at heart it's a B boxing picture, Wyler's second (and youngest surviving) film is quite well-made and thoroughly enjoyable. Well-accompanied by Donald Sosin.

L'HEUREUSE MORT (Nadejdine, 1924): An amusing farce based on the old concept of artists (in this case a playwright) becoming more successful after their death. I found the film well-made, but idiotic in its plotting, which would have worked better spread across a shorter timeline. A lot of other people at the festival absolutely loved it, though. To be honest, I've never seen a silent French comedy that completely wowed me (and this one was made by Russian immigrants. Any suggestions? On another note, this marks the earliest example in my memory of the fixed-on-subject-while-background-moves shot that everyone inexplicably credits Aronofsky for creating.

[nsps]

Finally, another Leni, The Cat and the Canary, which I had also seen a long time ago but forgotten all about. This time around I adored it. It's a dumb story, and my god does the comedy not work, but who needs laughs when you have this level of wit and invention. The film is an unbridled pleasure from start to finish, but I have to single out that moment when the dead man's portrait falls from the wall, and the camera records this from the portrait's perspective, with all the relatives gaping in fear down below. It's full of wonderful throwaway moments like that.

I may have to give this film another try. I saw it video projected with live accompaniment several years ago in a small theater in LA. I remember it as somewhat enjoyable, but drowning in intertitles. I had another chance to see it, this time on 35-mm, when I was at SFSFF's Valentine's Day event in 2009 (they did one in December, too so this is technically the '08 equivalent) and every movie is better at the Castro. However, I'd already convinced my girlfriend to spend a day watching silent films for our romantic getaway, and I wasn't going to get away with skipping dinner. As it stands I adore The Man Who Laughs but don't expect any of Leni's other films to be in contention for the list. (I agree with you about Waxworks—some wonderful sections, but inconsistent.

[lubitsch]

but he was absolutely blown away by the Asquith. It probably is the best introduction to '20s cinema that I can think of.

Which is precisely what I do whenever a student doesn't know which film to borrow, I just hurl COTTAGE at them, it more often works than not.

Saw It recently and while it's not particularly interesting, quaint is the first word that comes to mind, it did give me a thought that I hope gets expanded upon. Talkies shot as silents is a pretty commonly accepted thing, but what of vice versa. This film felt more, even ignoring the abundance of intertitles, like a talking picture than a silent. It might be because it relied almost entirely for its humour 'dialouge'. Instead of visual gags the comedy was mined basically the same way as trouble in Paradise or something like that. Hell my dissatisfaction may have been greatly reduced with sound since it was already shot that way.
Also as a minor question what was the extant of von Sternberg's involvement in the film.

Sternberg's input was exactly zero according to all sources among them Priscilla Bonner. It's one of these undying myths which lives by repetition.
I think today's film reviewers and historians have moved away from the simple rating system: less intertitles, better film. The art of writing intertitles which give some necessary exposition that else would have to laboriously told visually shouldn't be underestimated and it's admirable how they are often used for witty commentaries at the same moment, it's a narrator which only returned in the 40s noir if we take some exceptions like Sacha Guitry for granted.
And the lack of any voice inflection ar accent means often that an intertitle drops like a brick on the viewer and can be very dryly funny which an actor never could deliver the same way. But for It I think the core is really Clara Bow who is arguiably one of the best actresses and actors of the decade even if she was sunk in run of the mill crap by this swine B.P. Schulberg (reading Stenn's enjoyable biography this seems a fitting description of him). She's insanely inventive as a comedic actress, looks a bit plump and vaguely funny in stills, but she just flows and whirls across the screen.

I'm quite disheartened to hear of the low turnout in Berlin.

ROTAIE (Rails) (Camerini, 1929): An expressionistic fable of life swept up in the current of a changing Italy, most devastating in its first act, as it portrays a desperate young couple on the brink of suicide. Horne's magnificent accompaniment really sold the film, as it so often does.

Oh the festival was a success as such and the second edition for next year is already a certain thing, Horne had more luck with HAXAN.
ROTAIE was one of the last important 20s silents I saw and frankly I was slightly disappointed. there are a few strong contenders in this genre of a young couple lost in a big city, LONESOME among them and Camerini's film struck me as a bit more melodramatic than it should have been.

[Tommaso]

ROTAIE was one of the last important 20s silents I saw and frankly I was slightly disappointed. there are a few strong contenders in this genre of a young couple lost in a big city, LONESOME among them and Camerini's film struck me as a bit more melodramatic than it should have been.

Melodramatic or not, thanks for at least mentioning this film. I had never heard of it and now have found to my amazement that it features one of my very favourite actresses, Käthe von Nagy, in the leading role! \:D/ Geee, backchannels already activated to get this to Casa Tommaso pronto.

Meanwhile, I have just finished Capra's largely unknown The Power of the Press (1928), which was/is (?) available in a truly fine edition from a tinted print and with good orchestral music from Grapevine. I was very pleasantly surprised about it, as the much better known "Matinee Idol" did little for me. This is the story of a young newspaper reporter - somewhat over-ambituous, but rather likeable nevertheless - getting involved in a murder case and some political intrigue. Though this is certainly not terribly Capraesque all in all, it already has some of his themes of the 30s, e.g. the young and still somewhat clumsy man finally making it against all obstacles. But no need to look too much forward here, as the film works very well on its own as an exciting crime yarn. I especially liked the fluid camerawork in many scenes, and it has a certain relentless drive and also a nicely ironical portrayal of the newspaper world. The final car chase looks back endearingly to the action scenes in Feuillade, and the whole of it is acted fine, with a young Douglas Fairbanks jr. as the male lead. Certainly not Top 50 material, but well worth a look, I'd say. 65 minutes of good entertainment guaranteed.

[knives]

Is it available anywhere else besides their website? I just can't find an excuse to pay $19 for a DVDR, though I would love more Capra.