The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari

This Halloween I am delighted to share a film that a reader, Hunter author of Soul of the Plot, suggested I see.  The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is a brilliant German silent film from 1920.  It’s horror is felt through the uncanny story and eerie images throughout the film.  For film fans not quite comfortable with silent film, but fans of horror, this is a great piece to check out.

In the film, Francis (Friedrich Feher) and Alan (Hans Heinrich von Twardowski) are friends competing for the heart of Jane (Lil Dagover).  At a carnival, they see a side show featuring Dr. Caligari (Werner Krauss) and his somnambulist.  The somnambulist is named Cesare (Conrad Veidt) and perpetually sleeps unless awakened and controlled by Dr. Caligari.  He claims that Cesare can predict the future, so Alan asks him how long he has to live.  Cesare replies, “Til dawn tomorrow,” and Alan is brutally murdered that night.  He is the latest in a string of mystery murders plaguing the town since the carnival started.  Francis wonders if Dr. Caligari is the cause, but his investigation may put those he loves, and himself, in danger.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is considered to hold a few firsts in film history.  In 1920, a horror genre had not yet been created and this is seen to be the first horror film ever created.  And not to ruin the ending, but this film is also considered to be the first with a twist ending.  Don’t worry, that isn’t giving too much away, for a while it was expected of every M. Night Shyamalan film, though the ending of Dr. Caligari is even more unexpected than Bruce Willis being dead the whole time.

This is also considered one of the most famous of director Rober Wiene’s films and one of the most influential of the German expressionist era, right alongside Metropolis.  Partially, I believe that comes down to the new genre and inventive plot, but also comes from the stylistic set design.  It’s said that the sets were made of paper, with many of the dramatic shadows painted on.  The town and buildings have an almost cartoonish and abstract quality with curious angles.  It gives the film a more eerie vibe, like being in a nightmare.  The total cost of the sets was only about eight hundred dollars.

What a way to end this year’s month of horror, with the original horror film.  The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is a film I enjoyed very much, and until it was brought to my attention, I had never even heard of it.  I do encourage you to check it out, it is currently available on Netflix instant, a true gem of the silent era, and the beginnings of a unique genre.  Happy Halloween!

“You fools, this man is plotting our doom!  We die at dawn!  He is Caligari!”

The Gold Rush

In 1925, Charlie Chaplin’s The Gold Rush was one of the first feature films to star Chaplin in his Little Tramp role.  Before this time, The Tramp had been established and already well loved, but mostly in short films.  Here, Chaplin not only starred on screen, but he wrote, directed, edited and produced The Gold Rush.  Later when it was re-released in 1942, he also wrote the musical score and the narration.  It’s no wonder this is the film Chaplin hoped he would be most remembered for.

In The Gold Rush, The Little Tramp is in the Alaskan Klondike as The Lone Prospector.  Gold doesn’t seem to be the main concern during the harsh winter, as he stumbles upon a cabin.  He, Big Jim (Mack Swain) and a wanted man, Black Larson (Tom Murray), run some fun gags as they struggle to survive.  The act is wrapped up as abruptly as it began and soon The Lone Prospector is in a snowy boom-town, with eyes for a lovely dance hall girl, Georgia (Georgia Hale).  As usual, she is far out of his league, but to spite an aggressive admirer, Georgia asks “the most deplorable looking tramp in the room” to dance.  The Little Fellow has high hopes for he and Georgia, but there may be a mix of heartbreak and an unexpected rush of luck for them both.

Though this film was silent in 1925, it was re-released in 1942 with a musical soundtrack and a voice-over narration, spoken by Chaplin.  This odd mix of a silent-talkie is what I received from Netflix (which they did not care to mention and claimed was only 69 minutes long, but not every company is perfect).  In the narration, Chaplin not only explains the present situations, but also fills in the dialogue.  I guess this helps the film flow more organically than the stop-and-go of reading in a silent film, but I feel it also detracts from it’s original charm.  I hope to see the original silent version of the film someday for further comparison.

There are many fun and memorable scenes in The Gold Rush.  Many Chaplin fans will recognize the boot-eating scene (complete with a side of spaghetti like shoe strings).  The dancing rolls scene is such a whimsical and wonderful bit that has become legendary in film history.  The Tramp’s wardrobe malfunction while dancing with Georgia is a hilarious gag that embellishes perfectly to the end.  And how he celebrates her accepting his invitation for New Years is one of the most joyous and adorable moments I’ve ever seen on film, perfectly punctuated at the end.

If I had to pick just one favorite scene from The Gold Rush, it would have to be when the cabin is halfway off a cliff.  The Tramp and Big Jim wake up the morning after a snowstorm to an unbalanced feeling, which they both write off hilariously as a hangover.  As they move around the small cabin, they become increasingly aware little by little that something else is off balance.  The whole scene builds both the gag and suspense wonderfully to the very end.  I was laughing and waiting on the edge of my seat like no other film has done to me in a while.

The Gold Rush is one for all film and Chaplin fans to check out.  It’s fun, sweet and full of iconic and inspiring gags.  Whether you can only find the 1942 version or the original silent, it is worth seeing and a lot of fun.  This is a wonderful Chaplin film, guaranteed to put a big smile on your face.

“And of course at that moment, Georgia would forget her gloves.”

The General

I don’t know everything about film.  Far from it.  There are big names I have only recently become acquainted with and many I had never heard of before starting this blog.  One name I had been missing out on for far too long was the work of Buster Keaton and his amazing contributions to early film.  Over the past few years, I had read about him, and may have seen one of his shorts in college.  When I finally took the time to watch The General, it was like no other film I had seen before; refreshing, beautiful, simple and yet complex in it’s daring.

In 1926’s The General, Johnnie Gray (Keaton) is an engineer, driving his beloved locomotive, The General, down the rails.  His other love is a southern beauty, Annabelle Lee (Marion Mack).  When the Civil War starts, he runs down to be first in line to enlist, hoping this will impress Annabelle.  However, the Confederate army won’t take him, claiming he is more valuable as an engineer.  His chances with Annabelle seem shot, unless he can get into one of those gray uniforms.

When Union spies steal The General, Johnnie acts quickly to chase after them in a different locomotive. A great deal of the film is a chase, and it is fantastic.  There are constant obstacles that turn into great gags, thrilling suspense and daring stunts.  Little does Johnnie know that he’s chasing these spies into enemy lines, or that they have Annabelle held hostage on board.

If you have read my review of The Train, you may be aware of my fierce love for old trains.  Let’s just say, The General nearly drove me out of my mind.  What magnificent trains!  I squealed with delight when Keaton was moved up and down while sitting on the coupling rods.  The trains used in the film feel more like characters than machines.  The love story between Johnnie and Annabelle is no match for the love we feel for The General, that little engine who can.  And just as Johnnie is pitted against the baddies from the Union army, we feel a struggle between The General and the other locomotive, The Texan.

While The General is primarily considered a comedy, it is very much an action film.  The stunts Keaton performed were very dangerous.  Throughout the film are scenes showing him and others moving from one train car to the next, even climbing on the very front of the engine while it is in motion.  The most spectacular stunt is the big bridge scene toward the end of the film.  Wanting a genuine reaction, Keaton did not tell the extras in the scene that the train would cause the bridge to collapse.  Hopefully everyone stayed far enough from the wreckage.  That big moment is amazing and really seals the film.  But that poor train was just left behind and was scrapped for metal during WWII.

The General is an essential movie for any film fan.  Not only is it an important film from the silent era, but extremely influential to this day.  And it will not disappoint.  The dangerous stunts, the action, the constant suspense and obstacles in Johnnie’s way keep us at our utmost attention.  The story and character arcs have a very pleasing symmetry, turning the tables perfectly.  And the comedy keeps it light and a very fun ride.

“If you lose this war, don’t blame me.”

Singin’ in the Rain

For the most part, I find musicals to be the goofy branch of film with flimsy plots interrupted by silly songs.  Yet, in my eyes, there has been one musical I could only love from the start: Singin’ in the Rain.  Now, what on earth made a sarcastic kid like me love Singin’ in the Rain?  It was the iconic musical numbers and catchy tunes.  It was Gene Kelly’s dance moves, Donald O’Connor’s one-liners, the sweet charm of Debbie Reynolds and how we love to hate Jean Hagen’s character.  It had to be the whimsical and slapstick comedy that gets me laughing every time.  And the depiction of the early film industry in transition captivated me and was my first introduction to film history.

After working his way up from the bottom with his friend Cosmo Brown (O’Connor), Don Lockwood (Kelly) is a big film star in Hollywood.  He and his co-star, Lina Lamont (Hagen) let the papers believe they’re an item, but Don can’t stand her.  While escaping his overly affectionate fans on the way to a party, Don meets Kathy (Reynolds), who scoffs that film acting is “making a bunch of dumb show” as she claims to be a real actress.  However, she’s just a chorus girl, popping out a cake and all, but Don could help her make it into film.

As movies are being pushed from silent to sound, Don and Lina’s current picture is about to change.  They and their director discover all the new challenges that come with bringing dialogue to a film, and it’s a great bit of comedy.  Only, their film isn’t supposed to be a comedy, and Lina’s voice is shrill and meant for silent film.  Don and his gang have to get inventive, turn the film into a musical and appease Lina along the way to save the film.

Though some of the musical numbers feel shoved in, I find them so enjoyable that I do not care.  Good Mornin’ is just a happy tune I love to have stuck in my head.  Moses is an oddly catchy way to make us appreciate the work of a diction coach.  Others have such elaborate dance numbers and well designed sets that my eyes can’t keep up with my ears.  And Singin’ in the Rain is the one scene and song that every musical film should strive to achieve.

Yes, I will talk about that unforgettable iconic scene.  Even if you haven’t seen the film, you have to be familiar with the scene.  After dropping Kathy off at home, and getting a great kiss at the door, Don decides to stroll home, despite the pouring rain.  As a kid, I saw this and thought he was just weird or nuts, or didn’t mind getting wet, but now I understand that he’s just so happy and in love that no matter how many gallons of water are pouring down on you, it can’t bring you down.  “Come on with the rain, I’ve a smile on my face!”  If the lyrics don’t convey his happiness enough, the way he dances down the street will.  It starts with just a casual stroll, swinging his umbrella and it gets bigger from there, clicking his heels in the middle of the street, swaying from the lamp post and splashing in big puddles like a nutty kid.  And in the end he gives his umbrella to a man who will use it.

The Make ‘Em Laugh sequence is one of my all time favorites in any musical.  O’Connor goes through a zany routine full of dancing, hilarious gags and some astoundingly physical comedy.  For the full number he doesn’t slow down, twists his face in knots and spins in circles on the floor like Curly in The Three Stooges.  But the kicker is his grand finale is when he runs up a wall and does a somersault, not once, but twice and then ends in a side splitting frenzy through a third wall.

At the Oscars, Singin in the Rain was not completely forgotten.  It was nominated for best scoring for a musical picture and Jean Hagen was nominated for best supporting actress in her role as Lina.  What I find funny is that in 1952 Singin’ in the Rain was counted out of the best picture race, but today considered one of the best films of all time, while The Greatest Show on Earth is often considered the most overrated best picture winner of all time.

When introducing kids to film history, Singin’ in the Rain is at the top of the list.  All of the challenges about turning silent films into talkies are brought out in hilarious and memorable ways.  There’s nothing like being able to have a fight while filming, as long as you can look happy and in love and then having a leading lady with the looks for film but a voice like a banshee.

“I don’t go to the movies much.  If you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all.”

Nosferatu

When it comes to determining how great a horror film is, it always comes down to what you see, or don’t see.  Dialogue can be elaborate plot, but can bog the visual adrenaline down.  The thrill of terror rides on whether what we see is a monster or a zipper down the back.  The creepiest vampire images I have ever come across all come from the silent “symphony of horror,” Nosferatu.  

Nosferatu is a silent German Expressionist vampire film from 1922.  Here, our main vampire, Count Orlok (Max Schreck), is a sickly pale and skinny creature with pointy ears, creepy teeth and long, claw like fingers.  His presence on screen is so powerful and terrifying, every image of him still gives me the creeps.

Nosferatu is based very closely to Bram Stoker’s Dracula, with a few deviations.  The words vampire and Dracula are never used, instead nosferatu refers to vampires and our Count Dracula is Count Orlok.  However, since director F.W. Murnau did not get permission to use Stoker’s material, he was sued.  Some sources say that the lawsuit called for all copies of the film to be destroyed.  Whether that is true or not, the film was restored in 1994 and today is is available on Netflix Instant.  I believe that is quite a feat for a ninety year old film and shows just how important it still is.

In the version available on Netflix, the film is tinted.  For some people, this may be a bit discouraging.  I wasn’t too happy about it, at first.  Within a few minutes I realized that the different colors designated time, with blue tint is most obviously representing night.  Designating these time shifts visually is so important because the entire film was shot in the daylight.  We certainly can’t have vampires around during the day.

Fun fact and **spoiler alert**: this film is the origin of the myth that sunlight destroys vampires.  Who would have imagined it would bring such a huge contribution to vampire lore!

Seeing Nosferatu on a big screen, in a dark theater, with a live symphony playing is one of my cinematic dreams.  The music, as well as the film, alone are master pieces.  Even as I watched it on my couch in the middle of the day, I found it very creepy.  That pale, unblinking face, those long reaching fingers, and the build up to perfect terrors is so fun and should not be missed.  Nosferatu is one of the 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die and a must see for any film fan, whether you’re into horror or not.

“Is this your wife?  What a lovely throat.”

The Racket

Sunday night, Turner Classic Movies aired The Racket, one of the very last best picture nominees I have not been able to find. As the film was being introduced, it confirmed more of what I had heard.  For decades the film had been lost, feared to have no surviving prints. After Howard Hughes, who produced the film, died, a copy was found in his film collection.  The film was then restored and preserved at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas film department.  There was no audio for the film, so the music had to be recorded again.  It’s a longshot miracle that this film has been found, preserved and aired on television, so if you get a chance, make sure to catch The Racket next time it is aired on TCM.

Directed by Lewis Milestone The Racket is a silent crime film set in Chicago during the era of prohibition.  Good guy police officer James ‘Mac’  McQuigg (Thomas Meighan), walks the straight and narrow trying to stop bootleggers.  His main offender is Nick Scarsi (Louis Wolheim), a mafia leader.  Catching Scarsi red handed is the easy part for Mac.  Scarsi is protected by crooked politicians and a judge that gets him out of jail before he’s hardly in the station.  It’s all very frustrating for Mac.

After trying too long to scare Mac off, Scarsi pulls some strings and has Mac transferred out of the city and into the quiet suburbs.  But when Scarsi’s little brother slips up in Mac’s new town, a cast of newsmen, officers and a gold digging flapper girl come together in a big attempt to bring Scarsi down.

As tired as I was while seeing The Racket (TCM aired it around midnight), I found it surprisingly thrilling.  Many scenes have a great suspenseful build and the chaos of crime can be very exciting at times.  One of my favorite scenes was when Mac goes into Scarsi’s nightclub and witnesses a murder.  The dialogue slows, all we get is building music and many people giving menacing looks across the room, yet the tension becomes very thick very quickly.

One thing I noticed about the music it that it has a different tone than most films from the late twenties.  This is not a complaint, and since the music was written at the time of the film’s production, I believe this comes from its modern recording.  In fact, it sounds wonderful.  The music has a big, warm sound, rather than an a very brassy, wavering sound like many older recordings.  It gives the whole film a revitalized sound.

An early film trick that worked wonderfully in The Racket was a superimposed moment.  In a funeral scene, Scarsi looks at two lines of men, seated across from each other, each with a hand under a bowler on their laps.  The moment fades the hats to reveal each man pointing a gun underneath their hat.  I love how Scarsi seems to smile at the quiet tension and loyalties to him.

The Racket is a gem for any classic film fan to find.  The story of crime and corruption is thrilling and fun.  And of course,  Meigham and Wolheim are amazing to watch as perfect enemies.

“-Take a tip, Mac… change your racket. ”

City Lights

In 1931, talkies had gone from the newest fad to mainstream.  Silent films were quickly becoming too old fashioned.  Nonetheless, Charlie Chaplin wrote, directed and starred in the silent City Lights.  Surprisingly, it was one of Chaplin’s most successful films, financially and critically.  Some hail it as his greatest work and even one of the best silent films.  It was also Chaplin’s final silent film.  What a shame that the Academy did not see it fit for any Oscar nominations.

The film works like a perfect and sweet romantic comedy.  Chaplin portrays his famous Tramp, a poor, wandering, clumsy guy with a big heart.  We watch him make two friends in the city.  One is an eccentric millionaire (Harry Myers), that the Tramp saves from a drunken suicide attempt.  After that, he takes the Tramp on the town, living it up, even letting him drive his car.  The only problem is that once the millionaire is sober, he has no recollection of the Tramp and throws him back into the street.  It’s a very on and off again relationship.  The second friend is a blind girl (Virginia Cherrill) who sells flowers.  Through a series of coincidences, misinterpretations, and a ride in the millionaire’s car, she believes her new friend to be very wealthy.  When the little Tramp realizes this girl is in a financial crisis, and that her blindness can be cured, he works hard to raise the money to help her.  After all, he has to keep up the idea that he’s rich if he wants any shot at romance, right?

I dare anyone to watch a Charlie Chaplin film and not laugh.  Some of the gags in City Lights had me in stitches.  The Tramp’s opening scene is a great one.  Hundreds have turned out for a ceremony for a new statue.  As the sheet is lifted, revealing the new monument, the Tramp is curled up sleeping in the lap of the seated figure.  How wonderfully cute, innocent and hilarious!  And in his attempt to get off the statue, he gets his pants caught on the sword of another figure.  The moment gets more awkward when the national anthem plays, and out of respect, he covers his heart and stands still, his pants still hung up on the sword.  The slapstick style comedy is only slightly physical, good hearted and perfect.  The scene just before the boxing match is another that had me rolling.

Though this is a silent film, Chaplin incorporates a few talkie techniques.  When city officials are commemorating the new statue, they talk!  Only they sound like the off-camera adults in Charlie Brown cartoons.  What you hear there is actually the voice of Charlie Chaplin, the first ever released on film.  Later, in a scene I found particularly comical, the Tramp accidentally swallows a whistle.  What’s worse, he gets the hiccups and disturbs a singing performance at a swanky party.  Before talkies, there would probably only be a certain noise or note from the orchestra to indicate the whistle, but instead the noise of a whistle being blown is used.  Perhaps this scene was an inspiration for the nightmare scene in The Artist.  I do see quite a few similarities, even the use of dogs.

While I still have my share of Chaplin movies and silent films to see, I believe that City Lights is one of Chaplin’s most enjoyable achievements.  What he embodies as the Tramp is a simple goodness that we all should aspire to, and that is evident in the sweetest way in this film.  Whether you love silent film or think it’s too old fashioned, everyone should see City Lights.

“Tomorrow the birds will sing.”

Metropolis

Metropolis is a silent film made by Fritz Lang, released in Germany, in 1927, at the height of German Expressionism.  While its idea of a working class and intellectual class finding a mediator to help restore harmony can feel like a half baked fairy tale, the influence of this film has made it an extremely important piece of early cinema.

In the film, Freder (Gustav Fröhlich) is the privileged son of the city’s creator, Joh Frederson (Alfred Able).  One day, Freder falls in love with a working class girl, Maria (Brigitte Helm).  In his attempt to find her, he witnesses a giant machine explode, taking many of the workers with it.  It becomes Freder’s awakening to how cruel the machines that run the city are to the lower class, forced to work at them.  Freder brings this to his father’s attention, which only gets an assistant fired, and summoned down to the depths where the workers toil.  Freder takes it upon himself to help the workers and experience their lot in life.  There, he finds Maria, preaching about a mediator who will come and bridge the gap between the working class and the intellectuals.

Meanwhile, Rotwang (Rudolf Klein-Rogge), the local inventor and mad scientist character, is building a robot woman based off of his obsession with Joh’s wife who died giving birth to Freder.  As Joh learns of Freder and Maria’s love, he agrees to let Rotwang kidnap Maria to give the robot her appearance in order to discredit her preachings to the workers.  But Rotwang has more sinister plans with his creation, and soon all of Metropolis is in great peril.

What I enjoy most about Metropolis is its visual qualities.  The whole film feels artistically amazing.  The architecture of the city  is wonderfully eclectic with a good amount of art deco, some very futuristic elements and even a Gothic cathedral.  The skyscrapers are colossal, look to be connected by a monorail system and have little vintage airplanes gliding between them.  In the depths, the workers look like they are inside an industrial nightmare with giant turbines whirling and steam blowing everywhere.  The machines are in constant demand, making the workers keep in a steady, slightly frantic movement.  The image of repeatedly moving giant clock hands to sets of blinking lights is unforgettable.

The fact that Metropolis has survived for over eighty years and has been restored with only a few minutes missing feels like a great feat of film.  For many decades, nearly a quarter of this film was missing.  It had been released and restored many times, but in 2008 a good chunk of the film was found in Argentina.  Today, it is widely available, including instantly on Netflix.  There, the quality of the film is beautiful and crisp most of the time and any missing pieces are summarized with text.

The influence Metropolis has spread through modern cinema is seen in countless films.  The robot shown helped inspire the look for C3PO in Star Wars.  Rotwang’s style has become the look of countless mad scientist characters, along with the decor of his lab.  The idea of robots that look just like humans is a key part of Blade Runner.  In fact, most science fiction urban dystopia films can be traced back to Metropolis.  Dark City and Gattaca spring to mind first, even Batman’s Gotham city share similar characteristics.  And Metropolis has influenced more than cinema.  Besides the Batman comics, the creators of Superman used Metropolis as his home city.  And it is said that the film helped spread the art deco movement throughout America and Europe.

“It was their hands that built this city of ours, Father.  But where do the hands belong in your scheme?”

The Artist

The fact that The Artist is a black and white silent film makes all the difference.  It was a unique kind of film experience.  Our eyes soaked up the perfect shades of grey and understood the first language we ever learned; body language.  Our ears were more relaxed, not searching words to decipher for meaning, but instead had music that perfectly lead us to the correct emotional state of each scene.  Without booming voices and today’s typical loud things that happen in movies (explosions, gunfire, screaming, Michael Bay-style annoyances), the entire theater experience was quieter than expected and I could hear laughter from rows away.  It was easy to see ourselves in the shots of audiences watching movies.

George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) is a silent film star in 1927 who loves the attention it brings him.  He is a bit conceited, giving his dog more credit than his costar and wife.  When a fan bumps into him with photographers all around, George plays along, sparking the question, “Who’s that girl?”  With her picture in the paper next to a star, she has more confidence and becomes an extra at Kinograph studios, under the name Peppy Miller (Supporting Actress nominated, Bérénice Bejo).  Little did she know she would be working with George and that he would help her find the one thing that can make her stand out from the other girls.  There is an obvious attraction between the two.

Problems arise for George, when he refuses to move on to talkies.  At first, he laughs, thinking a talking film is ridiculous.  When he understands the threat it presents to his work, he tries to fight it, by making his own silent film and making arguments against talkies in the papers.  Soon, he realizes it is too late.  We understand him to be a man stuck in one place as the rest of the world, including rising star Peppy, moves on without him.  That staircase scene helped illustrate that idea perfectly, no words needed.

With his Clark Gable style looks and Fred Astaire moves, Best Actor nominated Jean Dujardin feels perfectly natural in this silent era role as George.  All his “mugging at the camera” does not feel like mugging, but a perfect portrayal of emotions that can range so far across his face and movement.  When he smiles, it’s joyous.  His lowest moments can break our hearts.  Even when George’s guard is up, Dujardin has a way of showing how George truly feels.  This sort of silent acting is not miming, but a true art that has to reach deeper than superficial words, and Dujardin proves that he is a master.

I believe that music is much more important in a silent film.  It sets the tone and can replace the voices some may miss.  In one scene, you will see how orchestras used to play live at the front of the theater, providing live music to accompany the film.  Ah, how I would love to experience a silent film the old fashioned way.  The music composed for this film spans a wide range of depth, from toe-tapping jazzy to sweepingly dramatic.  And it all keeps true to the era portrayed.  If these points are taken into consideration, there is no competition against The Artist for Best Original Score.

Besides Best Picture, Original Score and the two acting nominations, The Artist was also nominated for Cinematography, Original Screenplay, Art Direction, Film Editing, Costume Design and Michel Hazanavicius for Best Director.  That is a big 10 nominations for a film that seems so out of the ordinary.   Only one other film has more nominations this year, Hugo with 11.

What surprised me the most about The Artist, is that even though there are some themes that hearken back to Singin’ in the Rain and Sunset Boulevard, it feels very original.  I was not able -nor distracted enough to try- to guess what would happen next.  The plot was driven by the characters, and they felt so real and compelling that the whole audience celebrated their triumphs and mourned beside them; even the dog.

The Artist gives me hope for the next generation of film making.  Taking a step back and remembering exactly why we love film, what originally made it so great, is one of the best ways to improve upon this art.  This is an amazing homage to an important era in film history that keeps the visuals and ideas simple.  But most importantly, it puts story and character first.

If The Academy is looking to award the most unconditional film that celebrates why people have always loved the movies, The Artist will win the Oscar for Best Picture.

Seventh Heaven

Since we’re onto the inaugural year of the Oscars, I feel a little history is in order.  The very first Academy Awards was held on May 16,1929 and honored the films made in 1927 and 1928.  There were only twelve awards presented and of those twelve categories, only six are still honored today:  lead actor, lead actress, cinematography, director, art direction, adapted screenplay and picture.  The whole ceremony was only fifteen minutes long, with no live coverage and the winners were notified three months prior.  Today, we’re in the middle of the 83rd Oscar season, clucking about ten Best Picture nominees and two dozen awards to be announced over nearly four hours on a Sunday night.  My, times sure have changed.

Our first-first Best Picture nominee, is Seventh Heaven, a silent film about hope, love and war.  In Paris, Chico (Charles Farrell) works in the sewers and dreams of becoming a respectable street washer.  Diane (Janet Gaynor) is poor and at the mercy of her absinthe addicted sister Nana (Gladys Brockwell) who beats her regularly.  A relative offers to take the sisters in, but only if they have been keeping themselves clean and decent.  Diane is an honest girl, confesses to Nana’s drinking and the girls are left on their own.  Nana is so furious, she chases Diane, beating her in the street.  Thankfully Chico pops out of the sewer and intervenes, saving Diane.

For his good deed and to help Chico gain some faith, he is appointed to street washer.  But when the police try to arrest Diane, Chico saves her again claiming that she is his wife.  Now, he has to let Diane stay at his place so that when the police check it can look like she lives there.  Chico is a tough guy and tells Diane not to get comfortable, her stay will only be temporary.  To his surprise, they fall in love, but when war breaks out Diane and Chico may not have much time together.

One moment that really impressed me in this film, was the long shot up the stairs when we first go to Chico’s apartment.  The camera rises steadily as we watch Chico and Diane ascend six flights of stairs and one ladder without cutting away.  The idea for making this set is quite ingenious for the time and when we count the floors we realize where the title comes from.

The best thing about silent films is that they have to show and not tell.  That’s where so many movies today go wrong, they make dialogue a crutch and leave us nothing to interpret through our eyes.  Here, dialogue must be boiled down only to the most necessary lines and they must fit on the screen in large type.

With less dialogue comes more expression from the actors, a huge mark in the silent era.  Nana must always look menacing while Diane more meek and downtrodden.  As the film goes on, Diane becomes more confident and independent, but again this must be shown, she can only explain it in so many words.

I realize the silent film enthusiast are far and few, but seeing a few really is key to understanding film history.  If you’re on the fence or merely curious, there are plenty of silent era bits on YouTube, including the very first Best Picture winner, Wings.  Seventh Heaven is available on DVD through Netflix, it’s a miracle how well these films have survived the past eight decades.

“I work in the sewer, but I live nears the stars.”