Phantom of the Opera

To a packed house, of mostly older filmgoers, the Alloy Orchestra performed musical accompaniment to the classic Lon Chaney version of The Phantom of the Opera. Personally, I am a bit confused as to which version of the film was played. Perhaps it was the 1925 version or the 1929 version. Rumors were spread that perhaps the Boston based band had re-worked the film to best suit their music, but I could find no proof of such speculation, nor do I have the time or desire to track down the real story or compare multiple versions of the film. I have always found the Phantom of the Opera to one of my least favorite horror/macabre stories. Brian DePalma’s tongue-in-cheek rock opera Phantom of the Paradise is my favorite reworking of this much told tale. I could personally care less which version of the film was being projected or if the band had tinkered with the editing. I’m normally a purist, but I know that most film historians will agree that there is no definitive version of this film.

Telling the story of a ghoulish figure that lurks beneath the Paris Opera house in a lair of catacombs dating back to a less civilized time, this early version of the film does little to explain the Phantom’s origin or to portray him as a spurned musician – a characterization that has now become classic. The Phantom’s support and longing for a young understudy propels the plot. First he eliminates her professional competition and then he strong arms her into ditching her lover. Of course, once she learns what lies behind the Phantom’s mask she’ll do anything to free herself from his grasp. The Phantom has some right to feel spurned, having helped this woman with her singing and getting her the lead in Faust only to find out that love is not blind. Of course, the Phantom’s evil ways, his the deadly traps and torture devices make him patently evil and Lon Chaney revels in this sinister portraiture.

The films use of Technicolor, the two-strip variety, for one particular sequence makes for an interesting, if not flawed moment. During a masquerade ball the Phantom, dressed as red death makes his way down the grand staircase of the opera house. Today, the sequence seems showy and out of place, pure spectacle. Far more effective are the moments when only a portion of the image has been hand-tinted, like the Phantom’s cape as he stands a top the opera house’s roof. The bold use of Technicolor comes as a abrupt shock, especially to an audience so familiar with color. Once it might have been reason to get people into the seats, now it just makes people fidget in their seats as they wonder why the film jumps to color for one brief segment. Today, it takes musical accompaniment to get people to pack a theater.

The Alloy Orchestra does a very good job of adding their own touch to a film and bringing a silent work to life. Purists may complain that they are deviating too far from an original score, but most people in the audience are not purists and Alloy Orchestra never proclaims to be pure. They are performance and their performance packs the house. I am certain that a simple projection of The Phantom of the Opera would not draw such a crowd, not even over a week long run. That’s the sad state of silent cinema in America. For all the purists in the world and all the so-called film fans who decry the death of cinema and the death of film, few are willing to venture outside their home to see a film projected.

Then there are those who come out, but seem to have little or no respect for old films, performing artist, or other film-goers. I’m a huge fan of Mystery Science Theatre 3000, mainly because I had already seen a lot of the films they tear to pieces and I’m continually impressed with the depth of their pop-culture miscellany. However, I cannot stand it when someone feels that the only appropriate response to any old film is to pretend that they are trapped aboard Satellite of Love. These yuckity-yucks forget that the cast of Mystery Science Theater 3000 (MST3K) have watched a film many times over, they have worked and reworked jokes, and they have scripted everything out, timing it all perfectly. They are not just trying to impress their knucklehead friend with a breadth of cultural knowledge that extends back to 1982 and doesn’t stretch past television, movies, or music. Still, this seems to be the general response of so many attention starved yokels. I’m all for this sort of fun, inter-active film viewing when it’s you and your friends in the comfort of your own home or maybe at a dollar theater (if any still exist) where you are willing to pay back everyone else in the theatre who may not want you ridiculing the latest Ashton Kutcher masterpiece. But, why would anyone do this during a classic silent film, especially one with live musical accompaniment? You had to pay extra for the ticket. Sure, nine dollars isn’t much, so maybe they should up the ticket price to persuade people to shut up or stay at home. You don’t hear people heckling the opera. Hell, you don’t even hear people heckling a high school performance or a kid’s ballet recital and those are full of laughable events. So, why the disrespect for old films? Is MST3K to blame? Or are the idiots who can’t tell the difference between live performance and recorded television program to blame?

Alligator

I had nearly forgotten about Alligator, other than it being a footnote in the career of indie author John Sayles. If anything I remember it being a “bad” film. I’ll admit it. I watched it again and I was wrong. You can quote me on that. Alligator is nothing to rush out and see, but when it comes on TV stick around and be surprised.

A family on vacation in Florida return from their trip with a baby alligator. It’s not long before the critter is given a one way trip down into the city sewers. Feasting on the dead carcasses of lab animals inoculated with a growth hormone the little fellow turns into big problem. Suddenly, an urban legend is born. When the alligator moves on to feasting on more than discarded lab animals a grizzled cop decides to investigate. Suspense grows as the cop tracks down the sewer dwelling killer and the nefarious chemical company that has helped this critter mature to a monstrous size. Now, the detective must struggle to find the alligator before more people die and he must struggle with his own past, a past that haunts him throughout the case.

It’s the stuff bad movies are made of, but Alligator is not bad. Alligator begins with all the potential of a camp classic – a film so-bad it’s good. The family at the beginning of the film is over the top. The scientists are mad, but in a subdued fashion. The acting is ripe, but it doesn’t spoil the picture. The story – it’s silly, it’s implausible, and the science doesn’t make a lick of sense, but everything is done with a shred of seriousness that comes laced with humor. Screenwriter, John Sayles, and director, Lewis Teague, do a wonderful job of balancing the ridiculous with the serious. Robert Forster turns in a credible performance as the troubled detective. He must know this project is not the greatest thing he’ll ever do, but he still delivers a credible, believable performance. As crazy as the whole scenario may sound we believe it because Forster’s character believes it. In a film that could easy be written off my the players involved as one big joke and have been played up for all it’s corniness Alligator shows what can happen when a group of men take their jobs seriously.

Let’s take a moment to praise men. In particular, let us raise a glass to Lewis Teague, John Sayles, and Robert Forster – most of all we should toast Roger Corman. Here are three men who took a throw away assignment, a Roger Corman production, and turned it into something of merit. This is not a knock against Corman or the many fine films he has directed or produced. Still, there is a minor league mystic that surrounds the Corman camp, more a launching pad for young talent than a stable of superstars, Corman has seen some of the best come and go, but while they are with him Corman seems to do his best to get the most out of his talented craftsmen. Here is somewhat unique case that has grown more unique with time. A film that made by adults for adults. There are no teens in the sewers, there are no knowing glances to the camera, no tongues in cheek, no shots that scream, “Can you believe this shit we are selling you. Of course you can’t because you are too smart.” This is a film meant to engage the viewer, providing action, suspense, and entertainment. There are no blatant attempts to wow the audience with visual effects or sweeping camera moves or to provide laughter through over-the-top acting or ironic visual references. This is straightforward filmaking by men doing their job with a sense of craftsmanship and pride. That’s what makes Alligator a rare product of the minor or major leagues of flimaking. That’s what helps it stand the test of time.

The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928)

Having just seen this film three times on the day prior to today’s screening, I drew most of my attention not to the film, but to the audience. Would a lecture hall full of new film students be able to understand Dreyer’s masterpiece? Could they handle the fact that it was being played without sound? Would they be able to stay awake? Could they even make it to class by 9 AM?

For starters, many didn’t bother to show up. Albeit, this was the first class before spring break and the teacher’s assistant was giving the lecture. That right there is reason enough to think it is worth skipping out on lecture. Couple this with the wishy-washy interest of film students who feel that movies are the greatest thing ever invented, except when you ask them to watch any movie made before they were born. Heck, ask them to watch any movie that they didn’t “discover” on their own and you end up finding out just how little love they have for movies. If anything their love for movies is only brought into existence by their hatred for reading. It’s better to watch a movie than read a book, but it’s still better to just sit at home and play X Box.

While half the class was at home sleeping or getting ready to sleep after a night of X Box the rest of the class was engaging with The Passion of Joan of Arc. Yes, some were engaging it with their eyes closed, but most seemed to be captivated by the eyes of Jeanne Falconetti. Others were running their eyes across the film frame looking for clues – crosses created by shadows, symbols of faith – the sort of thing most film students are trained to seek out. I had tried to steer clear of such obvious codes during my lecture on Dreyer, but I do understand that it is much easier to teach symbols over experience, especially when much of your audience has very little emotional experience. Still, I used quotes from Herman Melville and Henry James and cartoon from Carl Schultz and an analogy about a bicycle that I plucked clean out of the air all in an attempt to get sleepy, jaded minds to open up their heart and let the experience of The Passion of Joan of Arc in.

Many seemed to take in the experience, but others looked at it with confused expressions as if to show that their brain was having a hard time processing filmic decisions being made. Well, a little confusion is probably better than a lot of comfort. Tomorrow starts spring break. They can all rest their pretty little heads…or kill of their braincells with beers at the beach.

Passion of Joan of Arc (1928) x3

In preparation for a lecture on Danish director Carl Theodore Dreyer I watched his silent masterpiece The Passion of Joan of Arc three times in a row. This is no mere form of boasting or bragging, but rather an accurate record of what it is I have been watching.

The first time through I watched the entire feature film with the sound completely off – a truly silent film. An occasional noise from a cat inside or a car outside did little to shake me from the action on the television screen. Though I had seen the film at least a dozen times before in various settings and under multiple circumstances I never recall seeing it wholly silent. Still, without musical accompaniment or the voice of an instructor bellowing over the images I found the film to be utterly engaging. Without a doubt, it is the harrowing performance of actress Jeanne Falconetti and those big emotional eyes of hers that captivates an audience, but with the music gone I focused less on Falconetti’s expressive eyes and more on the formal elements of the film. If the eyes are the windows to the soul than music must be an arrow shot at our heart.

On the second viewing, I watched the film with commentary. Normally, I find this sort of experience to be less than rewarding. These days it seems so many films come with commentary, either by the filmmaker and actors or by some scholar. I much prefer to let the film stand on its own, but since I was preparing for a lecture I figured all the information I could obtain was worth hearing. While there was a bit of factual information to be gleaned from the commentary track, it still felt diminutive when compared with the experience of watching Joan’s agony. I guess there are just aren’t proper words for some emotions and explanations just cheapen the magic.

Finally, on the third viewing, something I probably could have gotten by without, but felt compelled to play once more while making notes, I put the musical accompaniment on. While not a bad score by any means, the music felt like overkill. Still, I knew that in a classroom setting, with an audience of nubile film students accustomed to sound and movies full of music the idea of playing a film without any sound might be too confrontational.

For all the talk that is given to film being a visual medium it seems ridiculous to not try and enjoy a film on a purely visual level. Dreyer’s The Passion of Joan of Arc loses nothing when the music plays with the image, but it gains a lot when you realize that he does not need music to evoke emotion from his main character. Joan’s trial is a brutal ordeal with or with sound and through Dreyer’s unique use of camera angle, motion, framing, and blocking is a close-up look at a person out of place. Joan’s faith cannot exist in the world, it is too strong, too idealistic, and too challenging. She is fighting to distance herself from the world and music would only connect her to the world of cinema. In reality there would be no music, there is no music. There is just Joan, her accusers, and her love for God. So, I decided that’s just how my students should see the film – sans sound.

The Big Sleep (1946)

Everyone should be as quick and smooth as Bogart and everyone should have Raymond Chandler and William Faulkner in their corner to provide them with snappy retorts. Who cares if its sometimes impossible to understand just what drives this early noir. No one’s watching this film to see if Philip Marlowe (Bogart) can un-tangle the mess that the Sternwood family has made of their life. People are watching because its got Bogart and Bacall sizing one another up as the sexual tension between them swells like a tick about to burst.

Howard Hawks uses The Big Sleep to set the pace for all noirs. Tough, dark, tense, and dramatic. The story itself is but a peg to hang style upon. And yet, that seems like something I would fault modern films for doing. So what’s the difference. Could it be that Bogart is somehow more of a man than Pitt, Cruise, or Clooney? Is Bacall more a woman than Roberts, Jolie, or Witherspoon? Are today’s screenwriters not as quick witted? Or do modern directors simply replace dramatic tension with action?

I do not think there is on clear answer, but there are few films present or past than can hold a candle to The Big Sleep and I think few people who bother to check it out could argue that I am wrong. Long gone are the days of gritty glamour, studio stars, and taut little film brimming with sexual tension. Today it’s all about the blockbuster and more times than not it’s just a plain bust. Hollywood should take a few lessons from some S&M workers – the real masters of sexual tension – a little restraint goes a long way.

Head of a Pin (2004)

Su Friedrich’s latest film is a video and more so it’s a home video or perhaps it is better to say that it is a home video of her vacation. Away from her more familiar setting of Brooklyn Su Friedrich finds herself on unfamiliar grounds, a bit lost in the woods. Centered mostly on the struggle of one spider to subdue and snuff out a rather large wasp like creature caught in its web, this life and death struggle is inter-cut with images of Friedrich and Friends enjoying a week in the wilderness. Slightly out of place, the city folk try to familiarize themselves with the local flora and fauna, take leisurely strolls and swims and Friedrich camcorder attempts to capture it all with a distanced, but inquisitive gaze.

Being a big fan of Friedrich’s earlier autobiographical work I felt a bit disappointed, even cheated at the lack of inspiration or craft found in The Head of a Pin. Caught somewhere between amateur videographer and professional filmmaker on vacation Friedrich’s unstable visuals distract from the natural beauty that Friedrich attempts to capture. For most of the film Friedrich tries her best to maintain a steady camera, but the lack of a tripod and the refusal to be more active with her handheld technique leaves Friedrich with a jittery, unprofessional image that looks like an amateur desperately trying to look professional. Working with video may just not be Friedrich’s forte. Most of her subjects are captured in poor light, something film may excuse, but video does not. Her less than stellar camera work creates a feeling of after-though, as if the entire film was pulled from the trash-heap, discarded vacation videos, crafted into a sup-par piece of cinema.

Yet, this is too harsh as there are many wonderful, charming, and even engagingly humorous moments buried beneath Friedrich’s poor visuals. What she chooses to document, the pacing and length of her film are stylistically sufficent, laid out like a piece of jewelry, in need of a good dustying and some polish. The bout between the spider and the insect caught it its web is interesting, but something seen many times over in a nature documentary. With each image standing solitary, except for rare instances of voices, muddled by the bad in camera microphone, gone is the expected, poignant commentary that makes Su Friedrich’s films such as Sink or Swim and Rules of the Road so revelatory. Here, there is nothing so profound, perhaps due to a lack of script, but even some reflections laid overtop of less than average visuals might bring light or levity to the piece that is bordering between important and impromptu. Presently, the film feels much like an exoskeleton, stuck in a web – a discarded shell, lacking in any real substance. Which is just too bad. Hopefully, this is a simple side-step, a quick trip off the beaten path for this great filmmaker. Friedrich is capable of so much more, but out amongst nature with a video camera she is clearly not in her element.

Spike and Mike Animated Film Festival 2005

I did not necessarily plan on seeing this annual institution of irreverent humor, but after making the trek across town to buy tickets for an upcoming screening of the silent version of Phantom of the Opera, I figured, I might as well stick around and see the show. It was midnight, I was up, and in need of a good laugh, but it did not take long before I was noticing just how hot it was in the packed theater or how uncomfortable my seat was or how great the comfort of home and the Internet suddenly seemed.

It is not as if I am unfamiliar with Spike and Mike’s Sick and Twisted Festival of Animation. Off and on, I’ve been going for several years and each year I’ve gone it seems to get a little bit worse. There are always the unexpected stand out animations, but the garbage you have to wait/wade through to see these momentary breathes of creativity and inspired humor are really starting to outweigh the pay-offs. Perhaps, I am just getting too old for this shit. It’s no leap of logic to note that as I grow older the sophomoric humor of the festival becomes less laughable or even tolerable. The audience seemed to laugh more often then I so I could be, once again, completely off base in my assessment or perhaps I might have progressed past immature references to illegal substances and male genitalia. Outside of a few decent new cartoons and one or two classic ones the majority of the films are poorly realized and poorly constructed one-note jokes better suited for the walls of a men’s room, if not the toilet bowl itself.

I’m not sure if it’s worth it (for me or any reader) to mention every film that played, but I think I shall try as some did certainly deserve a bit of praise and others were so inane that they deserve a lashing.

Intro Starring Spike and Mike – sour take off on the candy counter classic, “Let’s all go to the lobby” promos that used to play before screenings. This one ending in bloodshed, poorly timed jokes, forced profanity, clunky animation, and the egotistical appearance of our hosts. All the violence that is inflicted upon the animated hosts would feel more rewarding after this lame showcase or in reality, out back, behind the theater.

No Neck Joe – Animator Craig McCracken must have substantial dirt on Spike and Mike as his one note No Neck Joe animations seem to play at every Spike and Mike festival I have ever attended. No Neck Joe is the Bob Hope of the animation festival circuit. He needs to be put out to pasture or beheaded.

The Boy who Could Smell The Future – Another one note piece with basic computer animation and an effective punchline. The film ends before the laughter, but without a program I would have forgotten I ever saw it.

Proper Urinal Etiquette – By the same animator as the last one, this is a longer piece, using a cruder form of computer animation, most likely Flash, to bring to life a “game” I recall seeing ten years ago in some rag publication, but one that has taken on a second life thanks to the Internet. Styled to look like a 50′s educational film this animation helps one elementary school boy run through the proper permutations that dictate which urinal it is appropriate to use when various combination of other bathroom users are at the urinals. Not helpful. Not really that funny. The joke ends long before the piece.

The Answer – Yet, another one note animation that looks like it took many hours to create, but only about ten seconds to think up. Not caring if I spoil the joke because it’s already been written in a dozen bathroom stalls, the Answer is in relation to the question: “Which came first, the chicken or the egg.” If that doesn’t make sense, let it cum to you.

Lobster Schmobster – I am not sure if this was a draft or if this unfinished look is a new style of animation. The story is not bad, but again there are too few jokes for a film this long and the animation detracts from the little humor there happens to be.

Rip Wack – Noting that this same festival is playing in Chino, CA and that this particular piece is set in Chino, I have to assume that is the only reason this animation was part of the package. Imagine a computer animation student who has spent too many days playing Tony Hawk and smoking shitty drugs while only going out of the house to hang out at the mall and you are half way to the stupid place this animation takes you. Throw in gross stereotypes poorly performed by subpar, stoned friends on shitty audio equipment and a director who tries to create humor through racist dialects and you’ve almost made had the experience of this piece. If you are at home and you want the full experience of Rip Wack, grab a hammer and repeatedly slam yourself in the eyes with the claw portion of the hammer for two whole minutes and you’ll full understand the pain this film inflicts on the audience. I wasn’t the only one not laughing. In fact, no one was laughing. We were all too busy hoping the director was in the audience awaiting our demands for a refund and then some.

Happy Tree Friends (Milkin’ It, Class Act, and Out on a Limb) – I know I’m old because I’m just not learning about these lovely lil’ creatures. I recall seeing their smiling faces on t-shirts and DVD’s, but I ignorantly avoided them due to a nasty aftertaste left in my mind from so many other Internet animators. Well, I’ll admit it, I missed the boat. These three shorts were very well constructed, visceral, visual, well times, a bit too gross, but who’s keeping score. Still, I chuckled a deep hearty chuckle and wondered how uncool it would be for me to like these gibbering little woodland victims. Too old, bandwagon jumper, call me what you will, but I think the creators of this series are exhibiting far more intelligence and comedic knowledge than any other Internet animator out there and that makes me happy. Maybe humor is not dead.

Crab Revolution – Certainly my favorite of the festival, this particular French film about crabs – the sea creatures, not the VD – that is worth the price of admission, though it’s more philosophical than sick and twisted.

Baby Hunter – Another case off too much time spent playing video games. I’m not sure if this is a commercial for a video game, a longer animation, a spoof of some existing game, or what. It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it’s utterly feeble, unfunny, and a good argument for crackdown on kids who play too much Playstation. Parents please, get your kids outside before they become shitty animators.

The Two Minute Itch – The dog at the center of this animation is wonderfully animated, very flexible and frantic, with lots of emotion. This is another good work that fell in the slim middle ground between great and godawful. Unfortunately that makes it somewhat forgettable, but a pleasant surprise.

Fly Boy – Animation like this only inspire other unthinking would-be animators. Obviously thought up during a late night of drugs and too much television the literal character in this film is a fly placed in the role of Tony Montana (Al Pacino) as he shoots down “filthy cockroaches”. One more reason for me to ratchet up my hatred of Brian DePalma’s Scarface. One more reason for me to profess that the kids are all wrong.

My First Boner – School House Rock turns into School House Cock. Another ingenious piece of animation that took less time to think up than it did to roll another joint. The song animation is less impressive than the already less than impressive School House Rock animation and the song is such drivel that it makes you really wish the animators had been born deaf, blind, and dumb. Nostalgia is not good source of creativity.

Krazy Kock – Leave it to stalwart Bill Plympton to put some creativity back into the festival. This small clip from a larger forthcoming feature called Hair High is not only sick and twisted, but it is well paced, packed full of all sorts of jokes and it has a song by Hasil Adkins. I couldn’t ask for much more – other than to see Hair High in its entirety.

Quack Off – Another animal based middle of the road animation piece
ending on a lame duck punchline that makes me smile due to its startling nature, but then its over and so is my appreciation for the rather nice set up the film had going in its favor.

Hippie Juice – An Hummer driving Uncle Sam with road rage butchers hippies to fuel his environmentally challenged sports utility vehicle. It’s hard to tell just who is being made fun. The jokes are flat, the animation even flatter, and the only things really being insulted is me and my intelligence. I imagine this filmmakers think they are making something political and funny. But, they know nothing about politics or funny.

Cat Ciao – Computer created cat that looks more like a cross between a Chihuahua and a Gremlin meets his match in a large vulture like bird. No surprises here.

The Treasure of the Salted Tadpole – Another French film, not as interesting or as funny as the one about crabs, but again a sea based story. This time a pirate is in search of sunken treasure, but the booty is being guarded by a very large, nasty looking fish. Once you find out what’s in the treasure chest you understand why the fish is so determined to guard the treasure.

Muledick – Okay, this is the humor I just don’t get. Open with a title card that says, “Muledick”, cut to animation that is “weird”, listen to a conversation between two guys who are playing twenty questions, and wait for the guy guessing the answer to say the title of the film. This constitutes humor? One so-called dirty word, does not humor make! Unless you are two or three. I’ll never understand it. Don’t try to explain it. If you find this funny, go hang out with Rip Wack down at the mall, call each other silly names until slurpees spill out your nose.

Rez-erection – Very poorly done electronic animation about two mad scientists who create a Frankenstein like monster. Imagine Weird Science, Bride of Frankenstein, and a Rocky Horror in blender and you can probably distract yourself long enough to pay no mind to this horrible hybrid animation.

Here Comes Dr. Tran – This was a really funny, very simple piece that gets trampled to death by the creators’ refusal to let a joke go or to know when its time to wrap things up. The use of 3-D is hilarious, if only a one time gag. This would have been better had it been tighter, but alas I fear it will resurface in sequel form thus only beating the horse’s corpse longer.

Frog – Ending on a strong note, Frog feels like a classic piece of animation more in spirit with Warner Brothers or Disney, though slightly more sick and twisted, still its almost refreshing to return to something “classical”. Had they played this first it would have only made everything else less tolerable and in a way it somehow lessens the pain of films like Rip Wack, Baby Hunter, and Hippie Juice…And The Answer, and Muledick and…Okay really the Frog can’t make up for all the bad animation there was, but it is very, very good.

A Bitter Film – This early Don Hertzfeldt played, once again, but it’s not listed on the program and though I’ve seen it over ten times it still charms me and makes me laugh outloud. Hertzfeldt has his own Animation Show with Mike Judge. Perhaps they’ve started to realize that animators don’t need Spike and Mike. In fact, with the Internet today the whole Spike and Mike Animation Festival seems rather outdated. I do recall the days before the Internet, when this was one of the few ways you could see short animations like these, but those days seems so long gone and so halcyon that I am sure I am just being nostalgic. Perhaps, I am getting old and this humor just isn’t cutting it for me or perhaps the Internet has flooded the market and animators don’t need Spike and Mike anymore. Most of the films that played seemed to come from college students, each one with a title card at the end of the piece explaining how the animator could be contacted. Good luck to them, but in most cases I think anonymity would be better suited

Fall of the House of Usher

Deviating greatly from Poe’s incestuous tale, Jean Epstein’s The Fall of the House of Usher focuses more on cinematic ingenuity than narrative integrity. Using soft focus imagery, an unhinged camera, and many multiple exposures Epstein creates a gothic, impressionistic film that comments more on cinema’s relationship to the other arts as it does Poe’s original story.

In Epstein’s version of the story, which was incidentally co-penned by Luis Buñuel, Roderick Usher and Madeleine Usher are not twin brother and sister, but husband and wife. They are visited by a guest who watches as Sir Usher obsessively paints his wife’s portrait. With each stroke, Roderick Usher seems to drain the live from his beloved model until she passes on and the painting itself takes on life of its own. This one aspect of the film seems more related to Poe’s The Oval Portrait than The Fall of the House of Usher, yet lends itself to Epstein’s greater notion that cinema is a living form of art. Paintings are frozen moments of time and images of books falling over address bygone means of artistic expression. Guitar strings snap under unseen pressure, even music cannot match what Epstein believes film is capable of creating. It is only the cinematic image that comes to life in Epstein’s Fall of the House of Usher and nowhere is it more apparent than in the return of Madeleine’s corpse to the world of the living. Once her white-gowned body resurfaces the camera quickly snaps to life, tracking down halls, pushing past dead leaves that swirl in mystical winds. Just as the house itself trembles, the camera too shakes and scurries about. The visceral nature of the images capture something that no painting, book, or even piece of music can capture. Through this camera work and the films editing Epstein exposes the elements that make film the next great art form.

Of course, the film is not without its flaws. Still a very early piece of cinema, much of the acting lends itself to grandiose gesture and over emoting. Not all of Epstein’s visuals shine, some feel more like tests or experiments, in the realm of tinkering. For sure, the work is advantageous and hold great interest to anyone charmed by early gothic works of cinema or French impressionism, but for a student looking for a quick way to get around reading one of Poe’s more famous works this film will leave the student confused and incapable of correctly answering questions about the literary classic from which it was derived. Maybe that’s a good thing.

Un Chien Andalou

That infamous Luis Buñuel’s collaboration with Salvador Dali continues to confusing and confound viewers eighty years later. One of cinema’s memorable short surrealist films, the images of sliced eyeballs, dead livestock, severed hands, and grand pianos still make as little sense now as they must have then. The protégé’s of Un Chien Andalou, (Lynch’s Eraserhead, Jodorowsky’s El Topo, etc.) have helped familiarize the film going world with images of the absurd, but few seem to get it right. What makes Buñel and Dali’s film so frightening is that each radical image cements itself in a rather ordinary setting. It is the real in their surreal work that helps ground their nightmare visions into a realm of believability that makes our own dreams so concrete.

Those who try to be weird for weirdness sake usually go too far. They fall into the trap of being too shocking, leaving little mystery – the equivalent of a magic act where all the strings and mirrors are visible – or they cannot help themselves from placing deeper meanings behind every image. I am not suggesting that Buñuel or Dali’s images are without meaning. The ants crawling forth from the palm of one man may likely suggest his desire to kill as if a literal translation from a French term that suggests this desire. However, reading into this film to such a degree tarnishes the magical dream logic that it invokes on the audience. With reoccurring characters and objects, wide jumps in time, and a very stark connection to reality Un Chien Andalou is not so much weird as it is weirdly realistic, but it’s the sort of reality you can only experience with your eyes shut or in the cinema.

The Smiling Madame Beudet (1923)

Made in 1922 this short, silent French film tells the story of a romantic woman trapped in a bad relationship. Madame Beudet is a modern lady in love with the arts, not her husband whose heart gravitates towards matters of money. Prone it dramatic threats of suicide, the husband routinely places and empty revolver against his head. In the hopes that he’ll kill himself and free her from her loveless marriage, the Madame places a few bullets in the gun, but her plan backfires on her.

It was nice to finally see this early feminist classic film by Germain Dulac. Her impressive use of French Impressionist film techniques are not as overt as many of her male counter-parts of the same era, but she skillfully creates a lush work of cinema that is not only a visual treat for the eyes, but one that takes some rather funny swipes at males. Not as angry as it is humorous, I did notice that most of the males sitting in the auditorium quickly lost interest in the film. In a way, their reaction was almost expected. The Smiling Madame Beudet lacks visceral imagery or a strong male lead – to things that seem almost necessary to capture the attention of your average 18-21 year old make viewer.