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lubitsch wrote: Bergner however is an actress which makes me cringe, thankfully we don't have to listen to her pronounciation here, but she is one of the worst examples of early German cinema and especially the acting being in the claws of theatre asthetics.

As said elsewhere, I'm really ambivalent about Bergner. We probably agree about the awfulness of "Catherine the Great", but what you call 'theatre aesthetics' can occasionally be quite effective for creating a sort of almost mannerist artificiality which might appear surprisingly modern and is definitely interesting on its own terms (see "Der träumende Mund"). But surely the Kammerfilm's intentions were rather to provide psychological insight and subtlety, and this is where Nju (or Bergner) fails to a degree. I have no big problems with that, but it just makes Nju more 'conventional' than necessary.

lubitsch wrote: However I watched the Grapevine release while there's also an edition of the Ukrainian government around which beyond looking better offers the original cut which hopefully may clarify some story points.

This 'original cut' is something that bewilders me for the simple fact that it is about 20 minutes shorter than the 1973 Mosfilm version, and I haven't found any information about the differences. The intertitles of both versions look different graphically, but apart from that only a side-by-side comparison might reveal whether there are indeed parts missing or cut in a different way. Perhaps it's just projection speed, though.

Another nice film watched last night: Moskva (1926) by Mikhail Kaufman, one of the earliest 'full-blown' examples of the city symphony genre, which makes for a good comparison to Vertov's The man with a camera of course, as Kaufman was the cinematographer on the latter film. Moskva is certainly the more 'conventional' film and one that is far more openly 'propagandistic', ending with a roll-call of what seem to be important Soviet representatives and extolling more directly the progress created by the new state (I'm relying on guesswork here, as I had no subs at hand to translate the intertitles; but the word 'Soviet' often figures quite prominently among them). The film also doesn't follow the effective 'one day in the city' scheme used by Ruttmann and Vertov, but rather shows us different aspects of city life consecutively: traffic, work, art, sports and so on. Lots of fantastic imagery here, including a brief scene of high diving shown in reverse which anticipates "Olympia" by more than ten years. However, these are short moments, and the general impression of the film is far more 'documentary' compared to the 'imaginary' or 'essentialised' city that Vertov would show three years later. Perhaps the comparison to Moskva makes the special character of Man with a camera more visible than the more usual comparison to Ruttmann's "Berlin". Vertov's film is first and foremost a reflection on filmmaking and only secondarily a city symphony. While both films have a certain utopian character, Moskva seems to look for the future foremost by way of the new socialist society and is thus more similar to Vertov's "Forward, Soviet!" and "The eleventh year". The man with a camera doesn't have a different view, of course, but the utopian character there is much more created by the constant emphasis on the art of film-making itself (note also the absence of intertitles in Vertov's film compared to the intertitle-heavy Moskva), and the power of art to transform society.

The Man with the Movie Camera
I don't think I need to extol the virtues of this film here, but I recently took it upon myself to watch this three times in a row, each time with a different score (In the Nursery, Michael Nyman, and Alloy Orchestra), to determine once and for all which one reigns supreme. Frustratingly, I came out no more certain than I was going in (it seemed like each score had at least a moment or two where it worked the best), but I could still think of worse ways to kill an afternoon (and indeed, my admiration of the film probably grew a little more each time, cheesy as that may sound). The ITN score, perhaps not surprisingly, worked well for the film's slower moments, contributing a nice dreamlike rhythm to the proceedings, though I wish it had been a bit more dynamic in the film's more kinetic parts. The Nyman score was pure Nyman, which I have come to love from his work with Peter Greenaway. This is probably the best score of the three musically, and works wonderfully in several parts, in particular the slow motion sports scenes, though it does perhaps rely too often on the same themes, and you could also argue that the score is there more to showcase Nyman's talents than Vertov's. Which brings us to the Alloy Orchestra score, which is of course based on Vertov's notes, and, by a landslide, fits the many intricate rhythms of the film the most satisfyingly. I'm going to go ahead and call this my favored choice (if not the definitive winner) primarily for this reason, as well as the fact that (and I realize this is faint praise) I didn't find the score nearly as annoying as I remember it being. However, it should be noted that the R1 Image DVD with the AO score has annoying burnt-in subs that insist on translating all the writing on buildings and banners, which are occasionally informative but mostly just distracting.

Ideally, someone should put this out (on Blu-ray, of course) in a "definitive edition" containing, at the very least, both the Nyman and AO scores, and hopefully several others as well. This is probably the most rhythmic film I know of, and so it's no surprise that the score accompanying it at any given time has a great impact on the experience of watching it. I would happily watch this film over and over (and over) with any number of different scores accompanying it. Hopefully, BFI or Kino can deliver in this regard. Does anyone know why both of their recent releases only featured the Nyman score?

swo17 wrote:The Man with the Movie Camera
I would happily watch this film over and over (and over) with any number of different scores accompanying it.

Here you go then. This is my favourite by Biosphere. Be happy!
http://vimeo.com/10052381" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

I'm always amazed at just how well the film seems to work with almost any kind of accompaniment, perhaps because of how strongly the rhythm of the film (of the life within the film) comes across so powerfully through the editing and the regular ebbs and flows of action.

Is it documentary? Is it fiction? Documentary turned into something more than just a recording of an event or a simple created narrative? It most likely doesn't matter when the result is pure cinema of this quality.

And I love the creation of an exhilarating 'day in the life of a city and its people at work, rest and play', with the emphasis squarely on the human and individual aspects, even during the times of more regimented movement and the most mechanised environments.

NABOB OF NOWHERE wrote:Here you go then. This is my favourite by Biosphere. Be happy!
http://vimeo.com/10052381" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

Biosphere! Ouch! I want this on dvd. But I guess it's not available? As much as I like Nyman, I found his score annoying. It's distracting me from the film.

NABOB OF NOWHERE wrote:Here you go then. This is my favourite by Biosphere. Be happy!
http://vimeo.com/10052381" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;

I really enjoyed that, thanks! (And I like what I've heard of Biosphere in the past as well.) Too bad it only covers parts of the film though. I see that the soundtrack, the Biosphere portion of it anyway, can be purchased here. Anyone happen to know if the rest of it, scored by Mental Overdrive, is available anywhere?

I recently blind-bought Kino's Norma Talmadge double feature thanks to a good sale at DD, but I'm afraid I didn't like Kiki or Within the Law. In my view, one of the major reasons that these films have not help up well over the years is that they relied too exclusively on Norma's star appeal. As Richard Koszarski has pointed out, she was among those stars who actively avoided surrounding herself with other talents because she wanted to be the sole attraction.
The direction of the films amplifies these shortcomings. Clarence Brown, who directed Kiki, seems to have been a complete "actor's director," bringing little of his own sense of form and style to the picture, instead simply highlighting the talents of his (predominantly female) stars. Likely for similar reasons, I found Within the Law to be a fairly dull "star" drama.
What's worse, I do not "get" the appeal of Norma herself. Her performance in Within the Law did not stand out much, to me, and while in Kiki she earns some points for going outside the safety zone of her type/persona, the film simply was not funny. If anyone would care to offer any insight into her appeal, though, I'm all ears.

Thanks Gregory, your post confirms one or two reviews of that disc that I read, and which caused me to pass it by and rather go for the simultaneously released 2-film-disc of "Her night of romance"/"Her sister in Paris" with Constance Talmadge. Not arrived yet, but I'll report back.

Meanwhile I finally watched Griffith's Way Down East, which has much to commend it, but is not fully perfect in my view. The film starts off very strongly with Gish visiting her rich relations in Boston, and Griffith giving us some amazing tableaux of the 'idle society' there. This is very much helped by the beautiful tintings on the restored version, and of course by the richness of the sets and Griffith's keen eye for compositions. The film almost lost me, however, during long stretches of the second half back in the country, with the introduction of some unnecessary subplots and some comic characters (with almost a slapstick quality to them, e.g. the clumsy professor hunting butterflies), all of which doesn't move the story forward and feels strangely inappropriate to the serious theme of the film itself. In any case, I found all this far too long and also too caricaturesque in places, if I think of the gossipping women, for instance. These weaknesses seem mostly to derive from the play the film is based on, and I wished Griffith had taken a few more liberties here. Needless to say, the much talked-about ice floe sequence at the end made me forgot these things rather quickly. Probably this is one of the most daring sequences in all Griffith (and probably silent cinema in general up to that time), amazingly edited and shot and exactly what the film needed at that moment. So all in all, a quite impressive film and thankfully not as over-ambitious as "Intolerance".

I much preferred the Constance Talmadge double feature -- two nice Sidney Franklin films that look ahead to screwball comedy more than most other romantic comedy silents. I'll be interested to find out what you think.
Following my comments on the Norma Talmadge release, I should say that I certainly don't mean to discourage anyone from watching it. Neither film is completely without interest or appeal, by any means, and I do hope Kino will release more Talmadge titles (and more silents in general -- seems like these two releases were the only previously unavailable titles we got from them this year, though that's understandable).

Been a bit quiet on this lately, mainly because the films I've seen haven't really floored me. Spies and L'Argent come with good reputations and they're very impressive of course but I could never really engage with them. With Lang, I think there's other films of his that I prefer. I also saw The Mysterious Lady, which stars Garbo, as luminous as you'd expect, but it's an ordinary melodrama. Memoulian's Applause on the other hand is one of the better films I've seen recently and adapts to sound like the proverbial duck to water. Still plenty of German and Russian films left, as well as classic Hollywood.

I never came away so disappointed from a film that I had approached with such unbridled enthusiasm as L'Herbier's L'Argent. The material just doesn't lend itself well to the medium of a silent film-- at least to my mind. Even the visuals-- which I had heard described in such awe-inspiring terms-- had a limited appeal for me, and couldn't cultivate any significant involvement on my end into this extremely chatty, convoluted tale. L'Herbier and I just don't mix very well, at least in general, though there are exceptions.

I enjoyed Spione and Frau im Mond a great deal though. There's virtually nothing I've seen from Lang's silent period that doesn't hold some interest for me. In fact I could modify that to state that there's virtually nothing I've seen from Lang period that doesn't hold some interest for me, even if, like his take on La Bete Humaine, the film isn't a totally grand success. Even his lukewarm titles like While the City Sleeps and House By The River keep me involved from start to finish.

HerrSchreck wrote: I enjoyed Spione and Frau im Mond a great deal though. There's virtually nothing I've seen from Lang's silent period that doesn't hold some interest for me.

I basically agree, but I have to say that both "Das wandernde Bild" and "Vier um die Frau" don't do much for me. The former suffers from a clumsy Mia May and a script bordering on the ridiculous at times, the latter strikes me as well-done, but pretty conventional in terms of story. But for sure, everything from "Der müde Tod" until the end of the Weimar era are fantastic masterpieces.

A quick round-up of my viewing in the last week or so, intended as some sort of 'notebook' rather than any attempt at full discussion (which might follow if there's any interest). The films in chronological order:

Vanina (Arthur von Gerlach, 1922): another one of those Carl Mayer films that only float around in abysmal copies, but still, it's extremely striking. Asta Nielsen and her lover are pursued by her father, a cruel and sinister governor (Paul Wegener), and Gerlach creates a genuinely oppressive atmosphere throughout the film, but especially in the final scenes with what seems an endless flight through vast, but at the same time claustrophobic corridors of a dungeon. Fantastic set designs, expressionistic but without the certain whimsicality that I sometimes associate even with "Caligari". And incredibly assured direction for a debut film.

Die Strasse (Karl Grune, 1923): another film with Mayer perhaps involved some of my sources and the film's opening titles only mention Grune as a scriptwriter, whereas imdb lists Mayer as being responsible for the 'treatment'). A middle-aged petty bourgeois man tries to break free from his cosy home, full of ideas about the exciting life outside 'in the street'. The film describes the events of one night 'out there', and does so on a striking middle-ground between expressionist lighting - there's a gorgeous moment when the oversize sign in form of glasses above an optician's shop turn into staring 'eyes' - and a realistic depiction of the city and its 'underworld'. Kalbus groups it together with the Kammerspiel films, and I don't quite agree with him. Die Strasse seems more the starting point of a series of films that also contains "Die freudlose Gasse" and ends gloriously with May's "Asphalt"; i.e. films in which the dark abodes and a nightly city setting seem to carry the psychological weight much more than the actors. VERY impressive.

The Case of Three Million (Yakuv Protazanov, 1926): a very funny satire from the director of "Aelita". Two thieves (one ragged, one a gentleman) want to steal three million from a third thief (i.e., a bank director), and all sorts of comical and amorous adventures (with the banker's wife) ensue. In the end, there is a court scene in which the gentleman thief is not only revealing that the ragged one hasn't stolen the money, but demonstrates strikingly that the bourgeois society isn't better than the thieves it pursues. A good contrast programme to the assumption that the Russians always hammered the socialist message in with such serious pictures as those by Eisenstein or Vertov. This is a film with a very 'American', partly almost Lubitschian feel to it. And a stunt under the courtroom roof that might come from Harry Piel.

Ungarische Rhapsodie aka "Hungarian Rhapsody" (Hanns Schwarz, 1928). Another wonderful film from the man who gave us "Nina Petrowna". This is closer to "Melodie des Herzens", though, and not only because it stars Willy Fritsch and Dita Parlo together as the later film does. The film is about an army officer and his love who cannot come together until the very end, because Willy is poor and thus falls a bit too easily for the temptations of a rich, married lady (Lil Dagover). I'm not sure whether this is supposed to be a melodrama or perhaps rather a sort of mild comedy (it has elements of both), but in any case there are fabulous views of the Hungarian countryside, dashing officers, magnificent ladies, and the whole thing is simply bursting with style. UFA at its best. And best of all: Grapevine have just re-released their old master on DVD, so no excuses for not seeing this, please. And a question to the experts: does anyone know whether the original German version does still exist? The Grapevine is the American release version, and - quite apart from the replaced titles - I'm not really sure whether it's complete (it runs only 70 minutes).

Finally, Rotaie(Mario Camerini, 1929). This has already been mentioned by others in this thread, and opinions seem to differ. I must say, I really liked it. Of course, it is a bit derivative, but in some way I saw it as a final summary of the various styles and tendencies of the silent era (I have a similar feeling with "Asphalt", though that film is quite different, of course). So we get a little Kammerspiel - with a little bit of avantgarde editing thrown in - in the beginning, then a stylish middle section in a posh holiday resort, and finally the somewhat unconvicing solution that the couple's problems can be resolved by joining the hard-labouring working class. Well.... But the film works fine for me, with never a dull moment, and of course I'm pretty much sold as soon as I see Käthe von Nagy appearing in a film. Very nice.

It's been a while so I thought I'd exercise by taking one out of the losers heap. Sadly I'm no Tommaso so bare with me.
I've finally gotten to Murnau's The Haunted Castle and it struck me in two ways. Firstly the story seems to be the cinematic birth of the rich people vacation together that ends in death. It's amazing to think that in a way The rules of the Game, Gosford Park, and to a lesser extent The Dead would not be without this little showing. The way it remains different from the later films though is that it seems to not care about class relations. There's only one moment where Mayer's script breaches that taboo and it's used more for humour than any big statement. Rather it seems concerned with guilt, specifically of the religious sort. Now I don't know how much input Murnau had into the script, but this aspect seems to be as autobiographical as the usually observational Murnau gets. The scene of whispered secrets especially seems like an expression of the worst case scenario for his closeted homosexuality. If nothing else Murnau seems to be playing up this aspect.
The second thing that really did strike as unique to this film (at least in regards to Murnau) was the grammar. I simply can not see the Murnau of Tabu or even The Last Laugh making this film. The entire first act seems comprised of rich men standing. Nearly all of the narrative force is in the intertitles which is odd compared with how he would grow to use them. This morphs drastically over the course of the film. All of the images (except for two dreams) seem to be born out of the photographic expression of the first few scenes. Even at the end it is just men silently standing against each other. He manages to bring an outstanding variation to this image though.

knives wrote:It's been a while so I thought I'd exercise by taking one out of the losers heap. Sadly I'm no Tommaso so bare with me.

Ah, well... I'm only mentioning these unknown films because I seriously think that they SHOULD be known and form a part of any serious top 100 or 150 list of 20s filmmaking. I recently went through the two former lists made in 2004 and 2006 and was a bit shocked to see - though it's completely understandable! - that they basically consisted of what at the time was available on dvd/home video. And there are so many gaps that haven't been filled even now on the digital medium, and it is my great fear that people think that what is available is actually what is the best; in my opinion, this is not necessarily so. Thus my postings about these seemingly outlandish films, which I don't consider as losers at all. I'm pretty sure everyone would rave about Die Straße if only MoC or Filmmuseum or Kino released it. This would be what I like to call the "Menilmontant" effect...

As to Vogelöd: great observations, knives. It didn't occur to me before that this might be a starting point for the Renoir and Altman films you mention, but you sure have a point there. And I agree even more about your second point, which is precisely why I don't know what to think of this film: it doesn't really feel like Murnau. Much of it unusually feels very static (though very well composed), and the dream scenes are only a little bit of a compensation for what seemed to me a pretty conventional film, visually and even storywise. I like it somehow, but it just doesn't give me that fascination that even "Die Finanzen des Großherzogs" has. Hmm...have to think about it further, and probably need to re-watch it.

Tommaso wrote: Ah, well... I'm only mentioning these unknown films because I seriously think that they SHOULD be known and form a part of any serious top 100 or 150 list of 20s filmmaking. I recently went through the two former lists made in 2004 and 2006 and was a bit shocked to see - though it's completely understandable!

I was talking of your eloquence actually. If I could be as good as you in describing the films I find great I'd post more often. Even if I find it impossible to see some of the films your digging up it is always entertaining and informative to read what you have to say.
With that in mind I do find it odd and interesting that this very static, as you so properly put it, film is more interesting for me than some of the more complex works like Nosferatu. There is nothing to make it special in both this genre it came up with nor in Murnau's filmography. The most insane part of the is that it is the visuals that I was most captivated by. After a while he does begin to abandon the intertitles from their near constant starting rate. As that occurred I noticed that these frozen images were doing some of their own story telling. It's almost as if he wanted to see if a picture really could tell a thousand words. The usage of intertitles, especially at that rate, kind of voids any effort in that direction though.
As an aside I think the first dream is so effective because it clashes so severely with the rest of the film both in style and story telling.

I will see a few missing silents when the list comes nearer, but I had bought the Talmadge double feature and wasn't as disappointed as the others were.

Gregory wrote:I recently blind-bought Kino's Norma Talmadge double feature thanks to a good sale at DD, but I'm afraid I didn't like Kiki or Within the Law. In my view, one of the major reasons that these films have not help up well over the years is that they relied too exclusively on Norma's star appeal. As Richard Koszarski has pointed out, she was among those stars who actively avoided surrounding herself with other talents because she wanted to be the sole attraction.
The direction of the films amplifies these shortcomings. Clarence Brown, who directed Kiki, seems to have been a complete "actor's director," bringing little of his own sense of form and style to the picture, instead simply highlighting the talents of his (predominantly female) stars. Likely for similar reasons, I found Within the Law to be a fairly dull "star" drama.
What's worse, I do not "get" the appeal of Norma herself. Her performance in Within the Law did not stand out much, to me, and while in Kiki she earns some points for going outside the safety zone of her type/persona, the film simply was not funny. If anyone would care to offer any insight into her appeal, though, I'm all ears.

I don't think I can see exactly what Talmadge's star aura was, she also strikes me rather as a blank, but I found this quite an advantage for Kiki because she relied on a heavily stylized comic acting which I thought was pretty funny. Also Brown's direction from the first camera travelling seemed quite good to me, he knew when to alternate between close ups and panorama shots and understood comic timing as well. The story begins to run out of steam a bit and it's debatable how funny the dummy playing at the end really is, but the film is quite entertaining. Within the Law is surely the lesser film, but here I found it quite surprising how brutally frank the film makes that there's a rich and a poor man's (or better woman's) law. The storyline is so bluntly open accusatory that this film would never have been made a few years later, let alone in the 30s, it seemed more like a last gasp of the social films of the 10s. Admittedly neither Talmadge not the direction are a big deal here and the script strangles itself again in melodramatic convolutions.

Another vieweing was reserved for the new Vertov DVD from Edition Filmmuseum. A Sixth of the Earth dully followed the explanatory intertitle/illustrative picture pattern telling us essentially what a nice big country the Soviet Union is. The Eleventh Year was a bit more imaginative, but for all I care I wouldn't have minded if his film output had vanished from the earth.
The opportunity to see a abridged version (but still 160 minutes long) of Les Miserables by Fescourt meant that I dutifully jumped at it having seen 8 other versions for an article. Fescourt didn't strike me as a particularily gifted director in his Monte Cristo and I can't say that this film seems to be a lost masterpiece though it's impossible to judge the obviously heavily cut plotline. There are a few symbolic shots like the shadow of Valjeans attacking hand sinking towards the bishop on the wall and stopping at the crucifix hanging there, but it's generally a by the numbers adaptation without much flair.

lubitsch wrote:The opportunity to see a abridged version (but still 160 minutes long) of Les Miserables by Fescourt meant that I dutifully jumped at it having seen 8 other versions for an article. Fescourt didn't strike me as a particularily gifted director in his Monte Cristo and I can't say that this film seems to be a lost masterpiece though it's impossible to judge the obviously heavily cut plotline. There are a few symbolic shots like the shadow of Valjeans attacking hand sinking towards the bishop on the wall and stopping at the crucifix hanging there, but it's generally a by the numbers adaptation without much flair.

=; Please, do not judge so harshly Fescourt on such an abriged version: 2h40 min instead of the full 8h. I have seen the complete film and I find it the best version of Hugo's masterpiece next to the 1934 Bernard. The cinematography is stunning and many scenes are unforgettable. On top, most of the film was shot on the exact locations described by Hugo (Dignes and Montreuil-sur-mer). Milowanoff's Fantine (and Cosette) are among the best performances I have ever seen in a French silent. The scene where Cosette goes to the well to fetch some water is fabulous: trees have eyes shining in the dark (and predates Disney's Snow White by a full 12 years!).
BTW, the 1913 Capellani version is also worth investigating.

Ann Harding wrote:

lubitsch wrote:The opportunity to see a abridged version (but still 160 minutes long) of Les Miserables by Fescourt meant that I dutifully jumped at it having seen 8 other versions for an article. Fescourt didn't strike me as a particularily gifted director in his Monte Cristo and I can't say that this film seems to be a lost masterpiece though it's impossible to judge the obviously heavily cut plotline. There are a few symbolic shots like the shadow of Valjeans attacking hand sinking towards the bishop on the wall and stopping at the crucifix hanging there, but it's generally a by the numbers adaptation without much flair.

=; Please, do not judge so harshly Fescourt on such an abriged version: 2h40 min instead of the full 8h. I have seen the complete film and I find it the best version of Hugo's masterpiece next to the 1934 Bernard. The cinematography is stunning and many scenes are unforgettable. On top, most of the film was shot on the exact locations described by Hugo (Dignes and Montreuil-sur-mer). Milowanoff's Fantine (and Cosette) are among the best performances I have ever seen in a French silent. The scene where Cosette goes to the well to fetch some water is fabulous: trees have eyes shining in the dark (and predates Disney's Snow White by a full 12 years!).
BTW, the 1913 Capellani version is also worth investigating.

I wrote you a PM, but if the full version is around somewhere it's surprising that it wasn't restored and released yet or at least shown on TV as was Monte Cristo since Les Miserables is a French holy grail and the first huge materialization on screen should deserve some attention, INRI is another case that comes to my mind, why the church doesn't bother to pour a bit of money in the restoration of the first important film about Jesus Christ.
My favorite versions are Bernard 1934, Hossein 1982 and August 1998 and the Fescourt will have a hard time to live up to it visually even though I agree about the locations which looked quite authentic to me, so your info makes sense. About the story line I've nothing to say, I missed personal interpretative touches like in August's version, but they may have been cut out in this condensed version.

The Fescourt version is under extensive restoration. The print I saw was already pretty good, tinted and sharp. But hopefully Pathé will release it on DVD at some point. Henri Fescourt will then receive the re-evaluation he justly deserves.
Don't be surprised if such a French classic has not been shown on TV. Over here, French silent pictures do not receive much screen time compared to German or American films. I do my best to review all the French silents I can watch on my Blog to try to raise interest in them. Most French film lovers are obsessed with American classics, alas....

Did anyone catch Schlagende Wetter/Grisou (1923) by Karl Grüne that was broadcast on Arte last month? I'm staying away from the back channels of the internet at the moment and thus uninformed about the newest in Euroshares.

Been meaning to post some of these for a while...

Cops
Whether historically accurate or merely a matter of plot convenience, comedies of this era seem to present a bizarre sort of police state, with cops apparently placed at enough street corners that one always seems to be there just when our hero wants to get into a bit of mischief. What's great about Keaton's film (and a point I only noticed during this latest viewing) is that he spends the first half getting into all sorts of mischief (unintentionally, and completely innocently, of course) without getting any real guff from The Man, but it's only when he interrupts the police force in a self-congratulatory moment of pageantry that he incurs the wrath of hundreds and hundreds of them. Methinks there's a bit of hostility there toward the law that's not too far removed from N.W.A.'s thoughts on the matter. Okay, maybe a little far removed...

Die freudlose Gasse (The Joyless Street)
This is my pick of the Pabst films of the decade. I think it serves much the same purpose in his body of work as Queen Kelly does in von Stroheim's--namely, a highly disjointed film with eccentric moments of brilliance that just wouldn't fit anywhere in his more cohesive works. Particular moments that continue to haunt me include the long lingering on the devious smile of the head dancer at the brothel, and the shaky tracking shot near the end as the camera chases after a woman gone mad. The Edition Filmmuseum DVD is superb, with tinting and musical accompaniment that immerse you right into the seediness and desperation that pervade the film. Garbo is quite lovely in this as well.

Visages d'enfants (Faces of Children)
Not sure that this will make my list, but if it does, it will be carried on mostly by the first ten minutes or so, which follows the POV of a young boy at his mother's funeral procession with some of the most striking images and use of montage I've seen in the whole of the silent era. The rest of the film deals with how difficult it is for the boy to cope without his mother, especially when his father seems to have moved on sooner than he has. It drags a bit in the final third, but it's still left me excited to see some more Feyder in the '30s project.

P.S. For those not averse to pairing silent film with modern electronic music, I find this version of Fischinger's Walking from Munich to Berlin (thanks for the rec, zedz!) works quite beautifully. (The artist is Jon Hopkins.) It's only four minutes long, so you'd all better watch it or else. Make room on your lists!

Umm, wow, well. That was unexpected, but thank you nonetheless. Yeah, I got nothing.
If we're throwing out shorts I've got to throw out Regen by Mannus Franken and Joris Ivens. I've only been able to see it through a crappy fifth generation copy, but that might actually make things better. For example a good print might not have this, but there are a couple of shots that look like closeups of mutating milk filled raindrops.

"Regen" is easily available on one of the Kino Avantgarde sets, and if I remember correctly, the mutating milk-filled drops are there, too. Very beautiful film which probably makes it onto my list, too. Incidentally, Hanns Eisler wrote music for the film later on; the piece called "14 ways to describe rain" is one of his very best chamber music pieces, quite unlike the agit-prop style often associated with this composer.

The Barbican has some screenings of little known silent films soon - can anyone recommend any of the following?

Cikáni
Princesse Mandane
Das Spielzeug von Paris
Der goldene Schmetterling