Book Review: "Amateur Cinema: The Rise of North American Movie Making, 1923-1960" by Charles Tepperman

An excellent survey on the origins and developments of amateur filmmaking, from its rise following Eastman Kodak's introduction of the 16mm gauge in 1923, to its decline in the postwar period. Charles Tepperman frames the survey largely through the history of the Amateur Cinema League, an organization that offered amateur film enthusiasts the opportunity to connect and share their work, and did much to promote the art of home-made films.

Tepperman draws on articles from Movie Makers, the official publication of the Amateur Cinema League to present a vivid portrait of the movement, including common types of films, the demographics of home movie camera enthusiasts, and the relationship of amateur cinema to Hollywood. He also includes a solid overview of key filmmakers in the movement. Of particular interest is his chapter on Theodore Huff, a film historian who also worked in the documentary and avant-garde modes in addition to his contributions to amateur cinema.

Tepperman wisely avoids drawing too many comparisons to the present day situation with YouTube and online video, though he does address the way in which these new media are an outgrowth of the ideas of democratizing production and using the camera as a tool for personal expression, which originated with the founding principles of the Amateur Cinema League. Overall a fine study into a much-neglected area of film history that has much to offer for filmmakers and historians alike.

The Films of Georges Melies: Part V

The Pillar of Fire
A gorgeously hand-tinted print of this film is presented on the Melies DVD set, heightening the fantastic elements that Melies is showcasing here. A devil-like figure dances about, waving a torch over a pit of fire, out of which rises a woman, who proceeds to perform a Serpentine dance. It is interesting to note the difference in the use of the Serpentine dance in the film compared with that used by Alice Guy. Melies heightens the fantasy element by having the dancer conjured up by a devil, and includes such frenetic action and movements that the whole screen seems to come alive through the motion alone. The use of hand-tinting also emphasizes the place of the film within the “Cinema of Attractions” mode, offering a full experience for viewers, who would have most likely encountered the film in fairgrounds.

“Dreyfus” films
A series of tableaux depicting events in the trial of Captain Dreyfus, this ambitious series of films is one of the most un-typical in Melies’ work. The films are difficult to comprehend without a knowledge of who the characters are. While they would have undoubtedly been more familiar to contemporary audiences, it is still difficult to imagine the films playing without some kind of descriptive narration. There are some remarkable moments, such as the scene in which a fight breaks out among reporters, who are seen running toward the camera to create a really claustrophobic sense of being crowded in to the tiny room. Some of the scenes are depicted with a fair amount of realism, while others are clearly staged in front of painted flats. Overall, this series was an extremely ambitious and daring undertaking, and Melies’ defense of Dreyfus is clear in his casting himself in the role of Dreyfus’ defense attorney.

The Magic Lantern
A very self-reflexive film, this depicts two characters viewing moving pictures through a Magic Lantern device. At one point, of the characters is able to see himself on the screen. They also open the Magic Lantern up, and various characters come out from the device. This may be one of the earliest examples of characters in a film interacting with a screen image (a “film-within-a-film”, essentially).

Hilarious Posters
More than any of the other films screened, this one creates the most elaborate manipulations of space within the frame. A giant advertising space, lined with posters, comes to life, with each of the illustrated characters “acting out” the advertisements they appear in. Eventually, they “break out” of the ad, and police chase them around, before becoming “trapped” in the ad themselves. There are a number of levels of screen space and direction, with three separate rows of advertisements across the screen, as well as foreground and background dimensions.

Palace of the Arabian Nights
An elaborate fantasy, Melies develops a strong narrative thrust in this film which is more involved than most of his fantasy films up to this point. It follows a journey into an elaborate palace to retrieve treasure, and the Prince’s encounters with various obstacles along the way. The film is notable for demonstrating the move toward narrative cinema, away from the “Cinema of Attractions” model, while also finding room for isolated moments of spectacle. The elaborate set design, costumes, and placement of actors and props within the frame show the lengths that Melies was going to in order to create a fully-realized fantasy world. The detail in the painted sets, for instance, lends to the overall universe that Melies transports viewers into.

The Films of Georges Melies: Part IV

Adventures of William Tell
A fascinating use of stop-motion, in this film a clown puts together a human figure, which comes to life to torment the clown, who plans to perform a “William Tell” routine. The figure beats the clown, whose form disappears underneath his costume, then-after the figure has left-reappears, gathers himself, and exits the scene. It is a rough film, filled with roughhouse and knockabout physical business, and playing with audience expectation about how the routine will play out.

The Astronomer’s Dream
Anticipating the kind of lunar fantasy he would explore in A Trip to the Moon, Melies here presents an astronomer who falls asleep while observing the moon through a telescope. It comes dangerously close to his observatory window, even devouring him at one point. There are other various transformations that take place, including the window being replaced by a stone wall. This is one of the most elaborate manipulations of space and spatial continuity that Melies has demonstrated to this point. By changing the position of the moon, he suggests a far greater depth to the screen than is actually there.

Four Troublesome Heads
A delightful comedy piece, Melies here plays a musician-singer who removes his head three times, placing them on the table, and singing along together. The remarkable aspect of this film is the timing that Melies achieves with four separate film elements playing together, and really creating an illusion that the action is all taking place at the same time within the frame.

Temptation of St. Anthony
This film could be read as religious satire or criticism, as it presents a very strong emphasis on the women figures who “tempt” St. Anthony, and at one point, the Christ figure on the cross transforms into a woman. There is an element of almost vaudeville-like humor in the scenes in which the women tease St. Anthony, dancing around him, and disappearing and reappearing around him in comic fashion. Finally, St. Anthony himself is presented as an almost comic figure, with exaggerated makeup and movements, all of which lead the viewer to suspect that Melies was presenting a critique or possibly a satire on the religious elements he depicts here.

The Films of Georges Melies: Part III

Divers at Work on the Wreck of the “Maine”
Here is an interesting example of Melies using special effects to create a kind of “documentary” short. We see divers pulling bodies out of the sunken ship (actually using dummies to stand in for the bodies), while Melies has used double-exposure to print images of the fish over top of the original image. This creates an unsettling effect, in that the grim and gruesome subject matter is played out on a painted backdrop, with clear special effects in use to help create the overall effect, reminding the viewer that what they are seeing is only a re-creation of the actual event. It becomes difficult, however, to separate that knowledge from the gruesomeness of the subject matter.

Panorama From Top of a Moving Train
One of the few cases of a “moving camera” in Melies’ work, the camera is here mounted on a moving train and takes a straight-ahead view of the journey. An interesting effect is achieved by having the train pass under low bridges, which creates an interesting spatial effect.

The Magician
A great example of a Melies trick film, we see here a magician with a magic box. As he leaps into the box, disappearing, he is transformed into a small clown, which then transforms into a taller one after jumping down from the table. There are also playful hints of sexuality as a statue is transformed into various women. Despite a static camera, the image is never a dull one, as frenetic action and constant cutting within the frame provide a continuous sense of movement.

The Famous Box Trick
A trick film with some moments of gruesome humor (a boy is split into “two” separate boys with an axe), Melies performs the lead role, focusing the audiences’ attention on his different movements, which provide a remarkable sense of visual rhythm. Working with the box as his center prop, he presents an interesting transformation between the human form and objects, such as transforming one of the boys into a piece of paper, which he then tears up.

The Films of Georges Melies: Part II

The Haunted Castle
Another stop-motion trick film, this one (taken from a hand-colored print) features a man in a haunted castle, with various transformations taking place around him (the chair disappears out from under him, and he encounters various spectral presences). It is interesting here how much movement Melies creates within the frame. Even though the camera itself is completely static, there is so much going on in the frame that it creates a strong illusion of rhythm and movement.

Surrender of Tournavos
A departure from the trick films, this is a staged, “newsreel”-style piece depicting a shoot out between soldiers. It is shot in a very straightforward manner, with understated performances. It is an interesting example of the diversity of Melies’ work from this period.

Between Calais and Dover
In some ways, this is a difficult film to respond to, as it was unclear to me exactly what effect Melies was trying to achieve. The film depicts a rough sea voyage, with a tilting stage to create the illusion of a rocking boat. The action itself is somewhat exaggerated, leading me to question whether Melies was exploring the comic potential of such a set-up. At the same time, its presentation is very straightforward, which suggests Melies was trying to depict the situation without exploiting the tricks for any kind of comic effect.

After the Ball
Another difficult film to analyze, this one seems to belong to a kind of “peepshow” tradition of “blue” movies so popular in this period. We see a woman undress and stand in a tub, where her maid proceeds to pour water on her then dry her off. Clearly intended for its erotic qualities, the film is yet another departure from Melies’ usual trick films. While Melies’ films are often filled with sexual elements, few are as explicit in their intention than this one.

The Films of Georges Melies: Part I

This is the first in a series of writings on the films of Georges Melies. As with the Films of Edwin S. Porter series, this will cover a number of titles from the director's filmography taken from films currently available for viewing. Some of these notes were taken during screenings of the films during a course on silent French cinema at NYU in fall 2009. I plan to expand and publish these notes in the future.

Playing Cards
Melies’ first film, this is shot in the tradition of similar subjects taken by both Lumiere and Guy. Melies appears in the film himself, hinting at the central acting roles he would play in future projects. The film exhibits none of the tricks that Melies would introduce and perfect in his later work. The film is shot from a static position, as with Melies’ other films, but lacks the kind of dynamic action and mise-en-scene that defines his later work.

The Terrible Night
A comedy short, this depicts a comic character trying to sleep while his bed is infested with bugs. It opens with a comically-exaggerated insect climbing up the bed and then up the wall, suggesting that Melies was already interested in exploring the fantastic elements of cinema. The exaggerated makeup of the character, as well as the simple set, suggest the stage origins of sketches like this one.

Vanishing Lady
An early film in the style with which Melies became best known, here he plays a magician performing a vanishing act with his female assistant. Where Melies deviates from the usual stage origins of this act is in his use of stop-motion, which becomes his trademark technique in his later work, in creating special effects (the vanishing lady not only disappears under the sheet, but also re-appears at one point as a skeleton). Both performers directly address the audience at the end of the film. In this subject, we see that Melies was interested in not just re-creating magic acts that could be performed on stage, but also in enhancing them with effects only possible through the camera.

A Nightmare
Another comedy short, this one is staged with an emphasis on special effects humor, as a sleeping man envisions a woman seated at the foot of his bed, who transforms in to a blackface banjo player and a clown. Melies cuts between these different transformations with stop-motion effects. He also plays with spatial perspective by bringing the small figure of the moon closer to the screen so that it appears to have giant proportions as it gets closer.

Dazed and Confused (1993)

A landmark of the '90s indie film movement that still holds up remarkably well, thanks to its fine ensemble cast and the sharp writing and direction by Richard Linklater. It's one of the great films -- like AMERICAN GRAFFITI or THE LAST PICTURE SHOW -- about a group of young people on the cusp between adolescence and adulthood, and the experiences they share over one the course of their last day of high school. Linklater creates a vivid portrait of the mid-70s Texas milieu (infused with a distinctly '90s "slacker" sensibility) that manages to be authentic evocation of a specific time and place while also transcending it and speaking to the shared experiences across different generations.

Entourage (2015)

Big-screen adaptation of the hit HBO show about actor Vincent Chase (Adrian Grenier) and his buddies from the old neighborhood who have made it big in Hollywood. The plot of the movie is loose and episodic, following the exploits of Chase and his friends as they attempt to make their dream project against the interference of Texan financiers and skeptical executives, but it is Jeremy Piven as high-power agent Ari Gold that holds it all together. Piven maintains an incredible level of energy throughout and creates a probably only-slightly exaggerated characterization of an utterly crass Hollywood big-shot.

The movie will no doubt please fans of the TV show, but it's also self-contained enough that even viewers with no prior exposure to the program can enjoy it.

Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels (1998)

Superb British crime caper about a group of crooks who pull off a major heist in order to pay back a massive gambling debt one of the gang incurred in a rigged card game. Fine performances throughout by Jason Flemyng, Dexter Fletcher, Nick Moran, Jason Statham, Steven Mackintosh, Vinnie Jones, and Sting, among others.

Guy Ritchie's direction is a triumph of style. He weaves together several plot threads that come together in an explosive showdown, providing enough twists and turns to sustain the energy right up to the end, and creating something really unique out of a familiar premise.

Four Rooms (1995)

Extremely uneven, bizarre omnibus film -- in four segments, directed by Allison Anders, Alexandre Rockwell, Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino, respectively -- following the misadventures of hapless Ted the bell-hop, played by Tim Roth as a kind of weird cross between Peter Sellers and Jerry Lewis. In the first segment, he gets involved with a witches' coven; in the second, he becomes the unwilling participant in a pyschosexual role-playing fantasy; in the third segment, he has to look after two mischievous kids left alone in their hotel room, which they proceed to destroy; and in the fourth, he takes part in a dangerous re-enactment of the story "Man from the South" with a deranged Hollywood star and his entourage.

None of the segments really live up to their potential, with many of the situations confusingly set-up and poorly executed, no doubt hindered by the limited amount of time granted to each one. Tarantino's episode is the longest, and also the best, though it still feels rushed and underdeveloped. It was an interesting idea to bring together four emerging directors of the period to contribute to an anthology film, but the clash of styles and tone between the episodes result in a wildly inconsistent misfire.

The Crying Game (1992)

Bold psychological thriller about an IRA assassin who becomes obsessed with the partner of the man who he'd been assigned to kill during a hostage situation. That's only the set-up, however, for this thoughtful and provocative character study about the relationship that forms between two people brought together through tragic circumstances.

Fine performances by Stephen Rea, Forest Whitaker, Miranda Richardson, and a standout performance by first-time actor Jaye Davidson. Sensitively directed by Neil Jordan (who also wrote the script), it's a disarmingly moving and honest film.

Natural Born Killers (1994)

Oliver Stone's ultra-stylish, ultra-violent satire on American culture's obsession with violence, following the outlaw husband-and-wife team Mickey and Mallory Knox (Woody Harrelson and Juliette Lewis) as they embark on a road trip killing spree and become national celebrities in the process.

Stone pulls out all the stops, creating an explosive pastiche of styles and techniques. Based on a story by Quentin Tarantino, it shows his influence throughout. Hugely controversial, it made quite an impact at the time of its release and still packs quite a punch today. The supporting cast includes Robert Downey Jr. as the host of a "true crime" tabloid TV show, Tommy Lee Jones as an opportunistic prison warden, Tom Sizemore as a corrupt, superstar detective, and -- most memorably (and disturbingly) -- Rodney Dangerfield in his only dramatic role, as Lewis' abusive and incestuous father.

Lost in Translation (2003)

Meditative character study about the special relationship that forms between two strangers in a strange land. Fading Hollywood star Bob Harris (Bill Murray) is in Japan to shoot a commercial, being paid a small fortune for what he ultimately considers an artistically empty and unrewarding experience. In his downtime at the hotel, he meets an unhappily married young American woman (Scarlet Johansson), staying with her emotionally distant and rather vapid husband. Left to their own devices, and utterly alone in their unfamiliar surroundings, the two form an unlikely bond as they attempt to come to terms with feeling lost and directionless at different points in their lives.

Sofia Coppola, who wrote and directed, offers profound insights into these characters and situations drawn from her own experiences, without ever resorting to the kind of predictable, lazy navel-gazing so common in this type of film. Murray's older, wiser, world-weary actor makes for a good contrast with Johansson's sensitive but ultimately immature young woman, both struggling to find meaning and to deal with the damaged relationships in their lives. It's a bittersweet story about "what might have been".

Wet Hot American Summer (2001)

This homage to the subgenre of 1980s "summer camp" movies is a mild but amusing comedy mainly of interest for the talents involved. The talented cast of comedians (Janeane Garafolo, David Hyde Pierce, Michael Ian Black, Michael Showalter, Paul Rudd, Amy Poehler, and Molly Shannon, among others) bring a certain irreverent charm and energy to the film that elevates it beyond its predictable and silly subject matter, which we've seen a thousand times before (though, that's really the point). Fans of movies like PORKY'S and MEATBALLS will probably enjoy the good-natured sending-up of the familiar conventions and stock characters, but there's not really enough solid laughs here to recommend it to general audiences.

The Departed (2006)

Scorsese is very much in his element with this stylish crime drama about corruption and collaboration between the Boston police department and the criminal underworld. Matt Damon plays a superstar young cop who rockets to the top of the force, but it turns out he's feeding tips to crime boss Jack Nicholson, in order to line his own pockets and keep the gangsters one step ahead of the law. Meanwhile, a young man (Leonardo DiCaprio) with ambitions of joining the force goes undercover for the department in order to prove himself and to infiltrate Nicholson's gang, but his life is put in serious jeopardy once it's revealed there's a rat among the gang, and his superior officer is suspiciously killed when he begins to suspect that someone on the police force is leaking information.

This is one of Scorsese's best films in years, with a solid, unpredictable script and a fine cast (which also includes Mark Wahlberg, Martin Sheen and Alec Baldwin) making the most of their roles. There are echoes of GOODFELLAS and CASINO in its depiction of the criminal underworld, but Scorsese takes a fresh approach by focusing on corruption within the police force and contrasting the character dynamics between a good cop and a bad cop. As a result, it doesn't feel like a re-tread of material we've seen before, instead making this an interesting departure for the director that ranks among his best work.

El Mariachi (1993)

Landmark indie film of the '90s, made (or so the story goes) for just $7000, launching the career of writer-director Robert Rodriguez, and inspiring a whole generation of aspiring filmmakers to make their own low-budget movies in the process. Seen today, it's difficult to separate the film out from the legend surrounding its production and the unexpectedly wild success with which it was met upon release, but it holds up as a highly entertaining, expertly-crafted action film, tightly-paced with nary a wasted moment, and stylishly directed by Rodriguez.

An "Autumn Fire" Update

In my recent post on the Baltimore filming locations of Herman G. Weinberg's 1931 short film, Autumn Fire, I wrote about the city's appearance in this important early work from the American avant garde film movement, and identified some of the locations used in the film, specifically the view of the Baltimore Trust Company and First National Bank buildings as seen from the Inner Harbor. However, there were a few other locations used in the film that I was not able to identify, though the presence of the actors in those shots suggested that these, too, had been filmed in Baltimore.

I'm pleased to report that one more location has been identified. The credit for this ID must go to my mother, Pamela Barry, who recognized the distinctive stairs leading into the Preston Gardens Park, located at the corner of Saratoga Street and St. Paul Street. Knowing of my interest in identifying the locations that appear in Autumn Fire, she visited Preston Park to take photos of the stairs as they appear today, which I have included below, and also sent me the following notes:

"While I was watching Autumn Fire, I was struck by those sweeping stone stairways. I knew that I had seen them somewhere before. When I was a girl, my mother would drive us into the city by way of St.Paul Street as there was no Jones Falls Expressway or 83 South at that time. My favorite part of the drive came when we passed that little green space known as Preston Park. I thought those stairs were beautiful and the image always stayed with me."

The steps used in the film appear to be on the right side of this unique staircase (if you're facing it as in the photo above). Here is the staircase as it appears in the film:

Of the photos my mother sent me, it was this one that provided the positive ID when we looked at them together:

It is taken from a slightly different angle than the one from the film reproduced above, but a look at the spot where the two adjoining staircases meet provides the clue: the slight, straight ledge where actor Willy Hildebrand rests his arm in the film. Immediately to the right is the adjoining staircase banister, with its distinctive L-shape at the top, and to the left is the wavy banister that is clearly visible in front of Hildebrand in the screenshot from the film above.

Here is another view of the staircase from the film, which matches a bit more clearly the one in the present day photo, as it is taken from a similar perspective:

Below is a cropped version of the present day photo to match more closely the above screenshot from the film:

Here is another screenshot from the film, taken from the top of the stairs:

The steps today (seen from a different angle than in the film):

These glimpses of Baltimore, as seen in Herman G. Weinberg's Autumn Fire in 1931, are valuable for providing a filmed record of the city for posterity. In the previous post, the comparison between the "then and now" photos demonstrated how much the city's skyline and Inner Harbor area has changed and developed in the intervening 85 years. These photos from Preston Park reveal a unique piece of architecture that has survived intact to the present day.

Autumn Fire, in addition to being an important work in the early American avant garde film movement, also serves as a record of the architecture and urban development (as so many early films inadvertently do) of Baltimore, and is a precious filmed snapshot of the city from a time when so few moving images of it survive.

Present day photos of Preston Gardens Park courtesy of Pamela Barry.

Update July 5, 2015:

I took additional photos of the locations, including the exact staircase from the same angles as in the film, and have provided these shots here for then-and-now comparison:

Aguirre, The Wrath of God (1972)

Werner Herzog's films are certainly experiences, with the director's intrepid spirit of adventure and discovery reflected vividly in his work. The extreme conditions under which he made this film (including filming on location in a Peruvian rainforest) are evident on-screen, depicting the harrowing conditions faced by a group of explorers led deep into the Amazon jungle in search of the mythical city of El Dorado by a renegade Spanish soldier, Aguirre (Klaus Kinski, in a brilliant performance). Herzog takes a deliberately-paced, contemplative approach, which makes the explorers' mental and physical breakdown all the more dramatic, and frighteningly believable. Kinski perfectly conveys the descent into madness of a man on a quest in search of an unattainable goal.

Ten Years

The end of this month (May 2015) marks ten years that I have been keeping this blog. I started it in May 2005 (May 25th, to be precise) as a way to record my thoughts on films I watched, and as a place to publish essays on various film-related topics. I've enjoyed having it as an outlet to share my thoughts on the movies I'm passionate about, and have greatly appreciated the many people who have read or commented on the blog over the years.

To celebrate this little milestone, I thought I would share my ten favorite posts that I've written here over the past decade. Here they are, in chronological order of their publication date:

1. Abel Gance's NAPOLEON  (March 26, 2006)
A review of Abel Gance's landmark 1927 silent film and its legacy.

2. HEARTS OF THE WORLD (April 8, 2008)
A review of D.W. Griffith's 1918 war epic.

3. The Films of Edwin S. Porter, Part 1 (April 21, 2008)
The first in a series of critical analyses of selected films made by Edwin S. Porter.

4. Dracula Re-visited (October 21, 2008)
A critical analysis of Tod Browning's iconic 1931 horror classic.

5. A New Approach to Narrative (February 22, 2010)
An essay on approaches to storytelling in the age of online video.

6.. The Dilemma of Harold Lloyd (May 6, 2010
A critical appreciation of the silent comedy genius, and his unique origins as a wholly-original film comedian.

7. Return to the Kingdom of Shadows (January 15, 2011)
A short essay on the continued power of the moving image to capture audiences' imagination.

8. The Next Step for Digital Filmmaking (December 14, 2013)
An essay on the state of digital independent filmmaking.

9. Five Easy Pieces (July 21, 2014)
A review of Bob Rafelson's landmark film of the New Hollywood movement. I began reviewing films regularly on my blog in January 2014, as a way to record my thoughts on everything I watched and to discover new films. Out of hundreds of these reviews I've written so far, this one is my favorite, because my reaction to the film reminded me that it's still possible to come across a movie I haven't seen before that has the power to affect me in ways I could never have imagined.

10. Baltimore City in Herman G. Weinberg's "Autumn Fire" (May 26, 2015)
An original research piece on my home city's role in an important early work of American avant garde filmmaking.

Time Piece (1965)

Jim Henson was such a versatile genius that it can be easy to take for granted the rich variety of work he created across different media and formats. This 1965 experimental short film -- which Henson wrote, directed and starred in -- is one such example. With its creative use of sound and editing, zany satirical humor, and densely layered ideas expressed through constant formal invention, it's one of the best things Henson ever did.

Hallelujah (1929)

This landmark early talkie -- a musical melodrama about a family of black sharecroppers in the American South -- is notable as one of the first all-black sound films made in Hollywood. It was a highly personal project for director King Vidor, who wanted to present an authentic portrayal of black life in the South, using a cast comprised entirely of African-American actors and filmed on location (in Tennessee and Arkansas). The film is notable too for its pioneering use of location sound recording and fluid cinematography, which Vidor achieved by shooting silent and dubbing the sound later.

The results are still quite powerful, though a bit quaint at times today, and possess a vibrant energy, thanks to Vidor's innovative direction, the standout performances of Daniel L. Haynes and Nina Mae McKinney, and the rich soundtrack consisting of Spiritual songs.

Baltimore City in Herman G. Weinberg's "Autumn Fire" (1931)

Of the figures who have contributed to Baltimore City's rich regional film culture, one who must be mentioned is Herman G. Weinberg (1908-1983). Weinberg -- a noted film historian, critic, translator, and instructor -- is probably best known by cinephiles today for his film column "Coffee, Brandy and Cigars" and for his numerous books which include Stroheim: A Pictorial Record, The Complete "Greed", and The Lubitsch Touch. Weinberg was also instrumental in the importing and exhibition of foreign-language films in the US, translating subtitles for more than 300 films in a variety of languages.

Though born in Manhattan and based in New York for many years, Weinberg's early career in film can be traced to Baltimore, where he managed The Little Theater, opened in 1927 and located at 523 North Howard Street (it has since been demolished, and is now a parking lot). Incidentally, several short biographical sketches of Weinberg that I've looked at online state that he was the manager of "a little theater" in Baltimore, apparently not realizing that "The Little" was actually the name of the theater. The Little was known as a venue for what would today be termed art house fare, including important foreign films and independent films (my grandfather, an avid moviegoer in Baltimore at the time, recalls seeing the Technicolor production of The Mikado there in 1939).

But Weinberg's contributions to Baltimore's film culture extended beyond his curatorial role as the manager of the Little Theater. In 1931, he wrote and directed an important film in the American avant garde movement, Autumn Fire. This 15-minute lyrical film poem follows two lovers who are separated by distance -- the man in the city, the woman in the country -- and are finally reunited in New York. The silent film tells its story entirely through images, aided occasionally by the text of written letters. The beauty of Weinberg's compositions demonstrate a real eye for setting and detail, making it a pity that this was the only film he completed. It borrows aspects of the "City Symphonies" of the 1920s, with its montages of a modern industrial metropolis, and contains elements of what P. Adams Sitney in Visionary Film calls the "trance film", in its dreamlike unfolding of narrative events and emphasis on the relationship between the characters and their respective environments.

According to Robert A. Haller's article on the film (originally published in Field of Vision, Nos. 9-10, Winter-Spring 1980, and reprinted in Unseen Cinema: Early American Avant Garde Film 1893-1947, ed. Bruce Posner), Autumn Fire grew out of an earlier film project that Weinberg began but never finished, called A City Symphony, and notes that Weinberg was influenced by filmmakers such as Eisenstein (Romances-Sentimentale), Dimitri Kirsanoff (Brumes d'Autome), and Walter Ruttman (Berlin). He also mentions a charming anecdote about the production, that it was intended as a kind of cinematic love letter to Erna Bergman, who played the girl in the film.

Knowing that Weinberg was based in Baltimore at the time he made Autumn Fire, I became interested in the possibility that he had filmed at least some of it there. As a native of Maryland as well as a filmmaker myself, I was intrigued by this previously-unexplored link between Autumn Fire and its possible connection to the city.

Having seen the film several times, I knew the final scenes were shot, or at least set, in New York, as indicated by an on-screen note that refers to the "Central Station". Haller notes that the Manhattan footage Weinberg shot for A City Symphony in the late '20s was cut up and edited into Autumn Fire, which would explain the later "city" scenes taken in New York.

However, it is the earlier "city" scenes that interested me, and I revisited those with an eye toward looking for any identifiable signs that they might have been shot in Baltimore. Although the sequences consisted mostly of brief glimpses of the ships, piers, harbor, etc., there were a couple of shots that contained a view of the city skyline. I realized upon closer inspection that the skyline was all wrong for it to be New York, due to the lack of towering skyscrapers and other recognizable landmarks that would have been present even in 1931.

Taking a closer look at Autumn Fire on DVD, freeze-framing the fragmentary shots, it suddenly became clear: Weinberg did indeed shoot these scenes in Baltimore. Again, it was the skyline that provided the clue. In the shot below, I recognized the unmistakable structure of the Baltimore Trust Company Building (at one time the tallest building in the city and today the Bank of America building, built in 1929 and located at 10 Light Street). Immediately to its left in this shot is another building that remains today, the First National Bank Building (formerly the Legg Mason Building, built in 1924).

The next question was determining which area of the city this shot was taken from. Based on the angle of the buildings, it appeared to be taken in the spot where the USS Constellation is currently docked, at Pier 1 in the Inner Harbor.

With this evidence, I headed to Baltimore to take photos of the area today. Knowing how much the skyline has built up over the years, I doubted I would be able to get a picture of the buildings from the same angle. I was correct -- this particular view is no longer visible from the Inner Harbor, but I was able to find a view of the buildings from a similar angle, further up on Pratt Street:

Here is what the view from Pier 1 looks like today. The area has been built up considerably, between the skyscrapers and the construction of Harbor Place:

Many of the shots in the film appear to have been taken on or around piers that no longer exist. I have been unable to identify the precise locations of which piers might have been used. However, one shot shows a boat docking, clearly marked "Balto, MD", evidence that these scenes were at least taken in Baltimore's harbor:

There is one shot of the harbor taken from a high vantage point, which was possibly filmed from Federal Hill, located across from Harbor Place:

From atop Federal Hill, this was the only view I could get that resembled that in the film at all, though it is difficult to be certain, again, considering how much the area has been developed over the years. The only distinctive elements to go on were the height of the vantage point from which it was taken, which suggested Federal Hill, and the fact that the harbor veers off to the right at an angle:

Presumably, Weinberg shot these scenes in Baltimore due to the need to incorporate the character of "The Man" (played by non-professional actor Willy Hildebrand) into the story, and to supplement the Manhattan footage that he was recycling from A City Symphony (the majority of which seems to focus on the towering skyscrapers, trains, and bustling traffic). Haller notes that the scenes with Erna Bergman were shot first, which suggests that they were filmed somewhere in rural Maryland, though without further research, it is impossible to be sure.

This discovery of Baltimore's role in Autumn Fire establishes a link between the city and the early American avant garde film movement of the 1930s, and provides a starting point in continuing to examine Weinberg's contributions to Baltimore's film culture both as a filmmaker and exhibitor.

Herman G. Weinberg's papers are held in the collection of the Billy Rose Theatre Division of the New York Public Library for the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center. I plan to continue my research using the materials held in his archive and to hopefully be able to shed new light onto Weinberg's time in Baltimore.

*Update: Read about the filming location in Preston Gardens Park here.

References:

Freedman, Samuel G. "Herman G. Weinberg, Writer and Foreign Film Translator." The New York Times. 8 November, 1983. NYTimes.com. Web. Accessed 26 May, 2015. <http://www.nytimes.com/1983/11/08/obituaries/herman-g-weinberg-writer-and-foreign-film-translator.html>

Haller, Robert A. "Herman G. Weinberg, Autumn Fire (1930-1933)", originally published in Field of Vision, Nos. 9-10, Winter-Spring 1980, pp. 6-7, reprinted in Unseen Cinema: Early American Avant Garde Film 1893-1947, ed. Bruce Posner. Filmmakers Showcase, 2001. pp. 137-138.

Herman G. Weinberg Collection, Biographical/Historical Information. The New York Public Library Archives and Manuscripts. Web. Accessed 20 May, 2015. <http://archives.nypl.org/the/22482#bioghist>

Levin, Michael. "The Little Theatre in Baltimore". CinemaTreasures.org. Web. Accessed 20 May, 2015 <http://cinematreasures.org/theaters/7923>

The Devil's Party (1938)

B-crime drama about a group of friends, who grew up on the mean streets of Hell's Kitchen and reunite once each year for old times' sake. One of the gang, Marty (Victor McLaglen), has a criminal past, but now runs a successful nightclub. However, the friendships are threatened when one of Marty's regular customers is murdered, and his two old buddies -- now cops -- become involved in the investigation.

A solid, quick-paced programmer running just over an hour, it's nothing special but nonetheless possesses a certain charm for its unpretentious entertainment value, benefiting from good production values and a fine performance by McLaglen.

The House on 92nd Street (1945)

Political espionage procedural about an undercover agent for the FBI, who infiltrates a group of Nazi spies operating out of a house on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. The premise is ultimately marred by the fact that it lacks any real suspense, as there isn't any doubt that the government agents will save the day, and the rather too convenient conclusion feels both contrived and anti-climactic. The picture is helped by strong location photography (with nice views of 1940s New York and Washington DC), and a solid cast including William Eythe, Lloyd Nolan, Signe Hasso, Leo G. Carroll and Gene Lockhart. Produced for 20th Century-Fox by documentary filmmaker Louis DeRochement, the film combines actual newsreel footage with the dramatic action to good effect, while Henry Hathaway's direction is characteristically straightforward.

Gangs of New York (2002)

Martin Scorsese's sweeping, epic account of the Five Points section of New York during the 1860s, and the tensions between immigrant groups and the native-born Americans, stars Leonardo DiCaprio (in his first film for Scorsese) as an Irish priest's son who infiltrates the gang of crime boss Bill "The Butcher" Cutting (Daniel Day-Lewis, in a tour-de-force performance). Directed with a keen sense of period detail and atmosphere, this vivid re-creation of Civil War-era Manhattan (constructed on the massive stages at Cinecitta) is based on Herbert Asbury's account of the period in his book of the same name.

Freddy Got Fingered (2001)

A truly inspired piece of surrealist humor, certainly one of the most original and genuinely funny comedies to come out of Hollywood in the past couple decades. The story, such as it is, involves Tom Green's efforts to become a successful animator and move out of his parents' house, but any plot is just a pretense on which to build a series of outrageous, surreal visual gags -- such as Green scooping out and wearing a dead deer carcass, dressing in a backwards suit as "Backwards Man", showering in full SCUBA gear, and playing a piano with dozens of sausages attached to strings on his fingers -- that recall the works of Bunuel and Dali, or Buster Keaton (to whom Green pays homage with a reference to STEAMBOAT BILL JR. late in the film). Green is fearless in his use of extreme, gross-out humor, and remains committed to the material, never breaking character or winking at the audience to re-assure them that it's just a joke. It is on this strength that the film succeeds so well.

Special mention should be made of Rip Torn as Green's long-suffering father, an inspired bit of casting. Julie Hagerty, Harland Williams, Eddie Kaye Thomas and Anthony Michael Hall are all effective in supporting parts. It's fortunate that Green was able to get studio financing for this project while having full creative control by co-writing and directing as well as starring in it. It's hard to imagine it being made today, but he certainly made the most of all the resources at his disposal and created something truly original and funny. It's not for all tastes, to be sure, but it's a welcome change of pace for anyone bored with run-of-the-mill, uninspired Hollywood comedies.

The House of Rothschild (1934)

Stirring historical drama, lavishly produced by Darryl F. Zanuck, tracing the rise of the Rothschild banking family and their struggle against anti-Semitism in Europe during the Napoleonic wars. George Arliss stars in a dual role as Nathan Rothschild and his father, Mayer. Arliss's sensitive portrayal of Nathan, the central figure in the family, is the film's greatest asset, as Nunnally Johnson's script (adapted from the George Hembert Westley play) necessarily covers many events in a short amount of time, resulting in subplots (the romance between Loretta Young and Robert Young) and characters (especially Boris Karloff's Count Ledrantz) that feel underdeveloped, not helped any by Alfred Werker's slick and impersonal direction. Still, it's a powerful and handsomely-mounted production, and contains one of Arliss's finest performances (in a career filled with fine performances).

Cyrano de Bergerac (1950)

A first-rate adaptation of the Edmond Rostand play, about a romantic poet-soldier whose exceptional bravery and wit mask a deep insecurity toward women because of his unusually large nose. Unable to express his love for his beautiful cousin, Roxane, Cyrano is instead forced to speak through the handsome young soldier whom she loves, providing him with impossibly eloquent romantic sentiments with which to woo her.

The pitch-perfect balance of humor and tragedy is beautifully achieved by Carl Foreman's script, Michael Gordon's understated but effective direction, and Jose Ferrer's truly magnificent performance in the title role, ably supported by Mala Powers, William Prince, Ralph Clanton, Morris Carnovsky and Lloyd Corrigan. Produced independently by Stanley Kramer, the superb qualities of the writing and Ferrer's performance overcome the limitations imposed by the obviously low budget.

Book Review: "King of Comedy" by Mack Sennett

Mack Sennett's autobiography (as told to Cameron Shipp and originally published in 1954) is a highly entertaining read, capturing the spirit of its author and subject with humor, energy and vitality. However, its accuracy with regards to facts has to be taken with an extremely large grain of salt. Sennett peppers his life story with tall-tales and exaggerations, which are in keeping with the larger-than-life qualities of the personalities and experiences of the early days of the comedy picture business that he portrays so vividly.

Sennett takes a predictably skeptical view of the perceptive critics who saw his frantic comedies as a new art form and offered analyses of his filmic style, though Sennett is sure to acknowledge that his freewheeling and zany pictures were the result of much hard work and planning, and that comedy was a very serious business indeed to the men and women involved in their creation.

Perhaps the most interesting parts of the book are the early chapters dealing with Sennett's entry into show business, through a letter of introduction from Calvin Coolidge, of all people, to stage star Marie Dressler, who in turn recommended Sennett to producer David Belasco in New York. Sennett's account of the New York show business world at the turn of the century is vivid and colorful, especially in discussing the many personalities who were just beginning to flourish at that time. The account of his arrival at Biograph and subsequent tutelage under D.W. Griffith is particularly interesting in describing the relatively casual and carefree way in which these films were made, and the sense of discovery and potential that they saw in the medium. Of all the future collaborators Sennett met in his days at Biograph's studio on east 14th Street, perhaps the most significant for him, both personally and professionally, was Mabel Normand.

He devotes a great deal of the book to Normand, whom he clearly had a great deal of affection and fondness for years after her passing, and even given the tensions that arose between them following their broken engagement in 1915 (though Sennett is rather coy and inconsistent about the details in his account here). What is clear is that he thought the world of Normand and, as he states at the end of the book, one of his goals in writing it was for readers to be able to get to know her. Sennett has kind words, too, about other fellow clowns and collaborators, especially Ben Turpin, Harry Langdon, and Hank Mann, delights in telling how he discovered Charlie Chaplin, and laments having lost Harold Lloyd before realizing his full potential.

The chapters on the William Desmond Taylor murder are interesting for Sennett's perspective on Normand's involvement in the case, though they perhaps attempt to move through the details in too small an amount of space, leaving the reader wanting more information about the mysterious scandal that rocked the Hollywood film industry. After brief discussions of his discovery of both Bing Crosby and W.C. Fields for the movies, Sennett tells of the terrible loss of his personal fortune in 1935 following the financial collapse of Paramount (through whom he was distributing his films at that point), but concludes the book on a happy note, mentioning the honorary Oscar he was presented with by his old gagman Frank Capra, and his surprise appearance on Ralph Edwards' "This is Your Life", where he was reunited with a number of familiar faces from his past.

Like many show business autobiographies, "King of Comedy" is more successful at evoking a time and place than it is with a meticulous record of the facts. Taken in that way, the book is an enjoyable personal account of Sennett's life in pictures that captures the spirit of the man and his own legend, and provides a window into the creation of an exciting art form.

Man's Genesis (1912)

A "psychological comedy founded on Darwin's theory of the Genesis of Man," as the film's subtitle puts it, about a scrawny but intelligent caveman called Weak Hands (Robert Harron), whose romance with the beautiful Lily White (Mae Marsh) is threatened by the big, burly Brute Force (Wilfred Lucas). Setting out to win back his lost love, Weak Hands conceives of the first weapon to defeat his opponent, attaching a sharp rock to a stick which he uses as a club to bludgeon Brute Force to death. Brains win out over brawn. The whole "caveman" gimmick is framed as a flashback device, bookended by modern day segments in which a grandfather preaches the importance of non-violence to his grandson after he catches the boy antagonizing his sister with a stick (his message of non-violence would seem to be contradicted by the outcome of his story, but no matter).

As the description indicates, it's very heavy-handed and blunt in its storytelling and characterizations, and contains none of the technical innovations that mark Griffith's most interesting work from this period. It seems that by 1912, he was clearly reaching the limitations of narrative filmmaking within the one- and two-reel format. Griffith was quoted as comparing the production methods at Biograph to "grinding out sausages", a furious rate of production which of course allowed him to learn much and make great strides in a short period of time, but which has its inevitable drawbacks that become clear in an uninspired effort like this. His "pet project" during his last days at Biograph was the four-reel JUDITH OF BETHULIA, which pointed the way to the large-scale epics on which he'd soon embark. MAN'S GENESIS feels like Griffith going through the motions.

The film is available for viewing at the Internet Archive.

Mickey (1918)

Produced by Mack Sennett as a feature-length starring vehicle for Mabel Normand, this is less a typical Sennett slapstick comedy, and more a genteel drama with elements of humor. The plot is fairly complicated: a struggling old California miner (George Nichols) is raising the orphaned daughter (Normand) of his old mining partner, and sends her to live with her aunt (Laura Lavarnie) on Long Island in order to make a lady out of her. Her romance with a handsome young miner (Wheeler Oakman) is threatened by the advances of a slimy playboy (Lew Cody) who is only interested in her newfound fortune earned from the mine.

Normand shines in this otherwise stock melodrama plot, bringing just the right mix of humor and charm to the title role, and proving herself equally adept at scenes of broad physical comedy and intimate, tender romance.  Her performance here -- under the expert direction of comedy veteran F. Richard Jones -- is a fine demonstration of her exceptional gifts as a comedienne and the qualities that made her one of the most popular stars of the period. In his autobiography, "King of Comedy", Sennett is quite proud of the film, which he conceived as a showcase for Normand (with whom he had been romantically involved, and was clearly still quite fond of), and was made just at the time that their association -- both personal and professional -- was coming to an end.

The film is available for viewing at the Internet Archive.

Children in the Surf, Coney Island (1904)

One of the numerous actualitie subjects taken by G.W. "Billy" Bitzer for the Biograph company during the early years of the 20th century, demonstrating Bitzer's eye for spatiality and depth in his compositions, with the children splashing about in the foreground and the rolling waves crashing toward them.

There is a remarkable moment that occurs toward the end of this subject, after the other children have exited the frame. One small boy appears with a toy boat that gets tossed about in the surf, while in the background a tall ship passes by. It's really quite a striking composition, with the contrast between the small toy ship and the actual, full-sized one in the distance. The sudden appearance of this marvelous shot at the end of the film suggests that it was a spontaneous addition to an otherwise routine subject depicting children at play.

The film is available for viewing at the Internet Archive.

Silent Film Editing in The Big Parade (1925)

The battle of Belleau Wood sequence from King Vidor's THE BIG PARADE:

The oppressive rhythm of the action -- with even death in combat reduced to a mechanical beat -- creates a powerful visual representation of the dehumanizing effects of war, and a perfect synergy between form and content.

The Big Parade (1925)

The first, and quite possibly the greatest, of the WWI epics made during the 1920s -- soon followed by such films as WHAT PRICE GLORY? and WINGS -- and produced on an incredible scale by the fledgling MGM as one of its first blockbuster hits (it was, in fact, the highest-grossing film of the silent era). Even with its massive scale battle scenes and epic scope, what is most remarkable is the sensitive and intimate focus on the character relationships, masterfully handled by director King Vidor. He allows the pacing to proceed at a leisurely pace, never feeling rushed or hurried to get to the war scenes, which make the climactic scenes on the nocturnal battlefields all the more effective, since we have spent so much time with these characters and really care about their fates.

John Gilbert gives perhaps his finest performance as the idle, rich young man who enlists in the army on a whim and undergoes a real transformation after falling in love with a French farm girl (Renee Adoree) and experiencing combat alongside his fellow soldiers. Silent screen veterans Claire McDowell and Hobart Bosworth appear as Gilbert's parents, and that fine character actor Karl Dane is memorable as the gawky but courageous riveter-turned-corporal, Slim.

Special mention should be made of Vidor's expert handling of the march through Belleau Wood. He shot the scene with the actors marching in time to a metronome, precisely edited to the beats, creating an eerily unnatural and stylized rhythm that remains unbroken even as the men stoically step over the bodies of fallen soldiers or shoot snipers out of the trees while marching into enemy fire. It is an excellent visual metaphor for the dehumanizing effects of war.

Before Hollywood, There Was Fort Lee, New Jersey (1964)

The history of early filmmaking in Fort Lee, NJ has never quite received the attention that it would seem to warrant. Historians such as Theodore Huff and, more recently, Richard Koszarski, combined of course with the fine work of the Fort Lee Film Commission, have done an admirable job in shedding light on the American film industry's east coast origins. An important effort in documenting this still largely neglected area of film history is this 1964 documentary by historian Thomas Hanlon. Running a brisk 45 minutes, it presents a solid overview of the beginnings of the film industry in New Jersey, as well as key figures who worked there. Told largely through the use of still photographs, as well as home movie footage (taken in 1935 by Theodore Huff) of the remains of studio buildings in Fort Lee, there are also generous excerpts from such films as RESCUED FROM AN EAGLE'S NEST (1908, directed by Edwin S. Porter and starring D.W. Griffith), THE CURTAIN POLE (1909, a rare slapstick comedy directed by Griffith and starring Mack Sennett, whose comic fingerprints are definitely on the construction of the film's chase scenes), and THE LONELY VILLA (1909, an important melodrama directed by Griffith, noted for its effective use of parallel editing), which serve as a good example of the rich and varied work that was being produced in Fort Lee during cinema's early years.

Big Top Pee-wee (1988)

This follow-up to the 1985 hit PEE-WEE'S BIG ADVENTURE is a largely dismal and silly affair, filled with kidstuff humor that lacks the magic and charm of the earlier film. Reubens co-wrote the script, but the pacing and tone feel oddly off here, with moments of adult humor that seem out-of-place and out-of-character for a film that otherwise serves only as harmless entertainment for kids. What was lacking was a strong director like the first film had in Tim Burton. With Randal Kleiser at the helm this time around, the material never becomes quite surreal or cartoonish enough, and feels flat and uninspired as a result. The supporting cast, including Kris Kristofferson as the circus owner, Susan Tyrrell as his two-inch-tall wife, and Valeria Golino and Penelope Ann Miller as Pee-wee's unlikely love interests, are all effective enough but aren't given much to do with their roles. Similarly, there are some interesting characters among the circus troupe (a dog-boy, hermaphrodite, etc.), but not enough is ever made of them for them to register as more than just a series of one-off jokes.

Interestingly, it opens with an elaborate dream sequence with Pee-wee as a Sinatra-style crooner, who takes flight over the nocturnal countryside in order to escape his hordes of fans (shades of Fellini!) Unlike the Grand Prix bicycle race dream that opened the first film and directly foreshadowed the plot, the dream opening here is entirely isolated and has nothing to do with the rest of the film, and yet the premise of Pee-wee as a pop crooner is far more interesting than the film that follows.

Mister Roberts (1955)

Superb comedy-drama, adapted from the Thomas Heggen-Joshua Logan play about loyalty and friendship among the crew of a cargo ship during WWII. Henry Fonda re-creates his Tony-award winning role as Lt. (j.g.) Doug Roberts, supported by a fine ensemble cast including James Cagney as the brutish captain, William Powell as the sardonic, wise "Doc", and Jack Lemmon as the hapless Ensign Pulver. John Ford -- who began directing the film -- was a natural choice for this material, with its themes of male camaraderie and military decorum, but he was replaced by Mervyn LeRoy following a falling-out with Fonda. The film betrays its theatrical origins, its locations largely confined to the ship's cabins and deck, but does contain some stunning imagery of the sea and the sky (with some particularly striking shots of the sunlight shining through the clouds over the water) that provide evidence of Ford's impeccable eye for expansive visual details.

Chinatown (1974)

Widely recognized as one of the finest films to come out of the New Hollywood of the early 1970s, modeled on the '40s crime dramas and detective fiction. Jack Nicholson is a private eye in 1930s LA who is hired to investigate the murder of a powerful city official and becomes involved in over his head as he slowly pieces together the puzzle. Faye Dunaway gives one her finest performances as the woman in trouble, and John Huston turns in a chilling performance, embodying corruption in its most evil form.

Though there is much to praise about the film -- Roman Polanski's direction, Robert Towne's script and John A. Alonzo's cinematography chief among them -- there is an underlying problem I have with it: I am too often aware of the expert construction and execution of the individual elements, which I admire individually for their brilliance but which prevent the combined results from achieving a stylistic totality. It is nonetheless a masterful achievement in many ways, even if it perhaps adds up to less than the sum of its parts.

The Hudsucker Proxy (1994)

A funny, clever spin on the screwball comedy genre, about a simple, young business school graduate who's installed as the head of a mega-corporation with the expectation that he'll fail and drive their stock value down. Predictably, however, things don't quite go as planned. It's fun to see the Coens taking on this staple of classic Hollywood film, and the film is a sort of hyper-stylized take on the type of story Frank Capra used to do so well, combined with the rapid-fire machine-gun pacing of HIS GIRL FRIDAY. The Coens once again demonstrate their genius for casting, making the most of such enormous talents as Tim Robbins, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Paul Newman, Charles Durning, and John Mahoney. Not quite as stylistically audacious as some of the Coens' later work, but still highly entertaining in its affectionate homage to screwball comedy and a fine example of what truly great storytellers they are -- telling a familiar story in a most distinctive and personal way.

The Big Lebowski (1998)

Funny, delirious dark comedy with a premise that could have been borrowed from one of the classic films noir, but infused with an ironic, post-modern sensibility. Jeff Bridges and John Goodman head a standout cast that also includes Julianne Moore, Steve Buscemi, Philip Seymour Hoffman and David Huddleston (in the title role). One of the finest examples of the Coen brothers' talent for working outside genre -- or within several genres at once, depending on how you look at it -- while maintaining an entirely original, unique and personal approach to the material.

The Bank Robbery (1908)

An early Western subject, directed by US Marshal William Tilghman, and produced by the Oklahoma Natural Mutoscene Company. Tilghman, convicted outlaw-turned-actor/filmmaker Al Jennings, and other frontier lawmen and gunfighters appear as themselves in this story of a gang of bank robbers who, following a hold-up, are pursued and finally captured by the law.

Fascinating for its sense of authenticity (both in the casting and locations) and naturalistic touches (such as a horse defecating on camera) that one would not see in later Hollywood westerns. There is also an interesting early use of the panning camera. It is quite unlike anything I've seen in other films of this period, and while the movement of the pan appears quite jerky and crude (with the cameraman often missing the mark of the subject), it is nonetheless quite surprising and effective the first time it is used, and an instance of astonishing technical experimentation in a film that is otherwise stylistically quite straightforward.

His Girl Friday (1940)

I've seen this one numerous times and am convinced that it may be the quintessential Hollywood screen comedy, with its wry observations about love, unmatched breathless pace, and cynical, sharp satire on media and politics, all filtered through the uniquely American genre of the newspaper picture. It is also a triumph of the classical film style, under the masterful guidance of Howard Hawks, who never lets his technique show but instead makes it all look so deceptively simple.  One of those miraculous films where every element comes together flawlessly.

Django Unchained (2012)

Stylish, blood-soaked revenge fantasy, about an ex-slave who teams up with a German bounty hunter to rescue his wife, who's being held in slavery on a large Mississippi plantation. Excellent performances by Jamie Foxx and the always-interesting Christoph Waltz, with Leonard DiCaprio delivering a tour-de-force performance as the plantation owner. They are ably supported by such stalwarts as Samuel L. Jackson, Don Johnson, Russ Tamblyn, Bruce Dern and Franco Nero. Tarantino certainly knows how to tell a story, and the two and three-quarter hour running time flies by, even though overall the film is a bit less tight than his previous one, INGLORIOUS BASTERDS. What strikes me most is his obvious love of the landscape. There are some absolutely stunning shots of the Southern fields, sky, mountains, etc. that could have come straight from the Westerns of Hawks or Leone. Tarantino uses every inch of the frame to maximum effect, and the results are nothing short of breathtaking at times. It's Tarantino's sheer love for the medium that makes his work so compelling.

The Policemen's Little Run (1907)

This short comedy by Ferdinand Zecca is a good example of the kind of slapstick comedy that the Pathe company became famous for during the early years of the 20th century. This subject involves a dog leading policemen on a merry chase through the streets of Paris. The chase, and the use of comic policemen, would become staples of American silent comedy as well, demonstrating the international influence that the French Pathe farces had at this time. There are some remarkable trick shots, including the policemen scaling the side of a building through the use of an overhead camera and a painted backdrop over which they climb. This creates an interesting juxtaposition between the use of authentic locations in the streets of Paris intercut with obviously painted backdrops.

M (1951)

Oddly dismal remake of the 1931 Fritz Lang masterpiece, updated to 1950s Los Angeles. Joseph Losey, whose fourth feature film this was, borrows heavily from the look of Lang's original throughout, but combines this with a more naturalistic approach taking advantage of the LA filming locations. The result is stylistically uneven, though Losey does add some interesting touches of his own, particularly in the scenes of the child murderer stalking his victims, which employ creative cutting and sound (most notably the unsettling, cackling howls of the Laffing Sal attraction on the Santa Cruz boardwalk right before little Elsie is killed).

In light of Losey's blacklisting later in 1951, it's tempting to consider the film's conclusion as an indictment of McCarthy-era witchhunts, building on Lang's powerful condemnation of lynch mob justice. David Wayne as the child murderer is effective enough, though he perhaps inevitably lacks the intensity and desperate, pathetic qualities that Peter Lorre brought so memorably to the role in the original, making his final testimony before the mob in the kangaroo court less harrowing.

A Florida Enchantment (1914)

The same year that Mack Sennett made the landmark feature-length slapstick comedy TILLIE'S PUNCTURED ROMANCE, Sidney Drew directed and starred in this genteel, gender-bending farce for the Vitagraph company, about a woman (Edith Storey) who discovers some enchanted seeds that have the effect of turning women into men, and vice versa.

Notable for its bold subversion of sexual stereotypes, the humor is marked by Drew's clever sophistication and understated style. Drew and company have fun with the premise, and make the most of the farcical situations involving gender confusion and role reversals, which frequently retain their ability to be fresh and surprising (and which seem to have provided a model for later cross-dressing comedies such as Lubitsch's I DON'T WANT TO BE A MAN). The film also boasts some effective photography and a nice use of the Florida locations. With its attention to character and situations, it provides an interesting contrast to the roughhouse, knockabout slapstick most frequently associated with silent comedy, and is a fine example of Sidney Drew's talent as both a comic actor and filmmaker in a career that spanned more than 150 films over the course of a decade.

Tomorrow at Seven (1933)

I was in the mood for watching a light mystery before bedtime, and this little whodunit fit the bill. Chester Morris stars as a crime novelist, researching his latest book by investigating the identity of a killer known as "The Black Ace" (because of his calling card announcing the time of his next murder).

The supporting cast, which feels like it could have been largely borrowed from Warner Bros., includes Vivienne Osbourne, Henry Stephenson, Grant Mitchell, Charles Middleton, and Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins providing the comic relief as a pair of wisecracking detectives. It's a tightly-paced, unpretentious and entertaining little mystery, written by Ralph Spence with a nice blend of suspense and humor, and directed by Ray Enright with a good sense of atmosphere and creative use of the spaces inside the "old dark house" setting.

The Locked Door (1929)

This is a rather creaky Pre-Coder, about a young woman whose sister-in-law becomes romantically involved with a womanizing playboy who had attempted to rape her while on a boat cruise a year earlier. When she pays a visit to his apartment to put an end to the affair, the woman ends up being implicated in the shooting of the playboy.

It's notable for an early starring turn by Barbara Stanwyck, who commands attention in each scene, with a real ease and naturalness in her handling of the dialogue, and is the standout in the cast which also includes Rod LaRocque, Betty Bronson, and William ("Stage") Boyd. The talky script, adapted from a play by Channing Pollock, is enlivened by moments of imaginative direction by George Fitzmaurice and some impressive camerawork by Ray June (particularly a long tracking shot down the entire length of the ship's bar).

Movie Miniatures

I recently watched Carol Reed's 1940 British wartime thriller NIGHT TRAIN TO MUNICH. I love the stylized artifice of these miniatures, which look like they could have come right over from Hitchcock's THE LADY VANISHES, and have a certain charm and character lacking from slicker, big-budget miniatures or today's CGI models.

THE LADY VANISHES opens with a similarly charming miniature town. A crane shot passes over the model trains (complete with miniature human figures next to it). It then passes in front of a quaint little model house before moving on to a side street, where a model car passes by.

These models, which probably seemed palpably artificial even to contemporary audiences, contain the imagination and skill of the artisans who created them, lending these films a distinctly human touch.

Tusk (2014)

I really like this new direction Kevin Smith has taken with his filmmaking. I always enjoyed his comedies, although there was a tendency toward repetition and the past couple I'd seen had felt perhaps more than a little stale. Having tuned out of his work around the time of JERSEY GIRL and CLERKS 2, I only just recently watched his two most recent movies, and have been completely surprised by the direction he takes them in.

I like the fact that this movie is difficult to nail down. It exists outside convenient focus-group marketing categories. The tone shifts quite sharply between horror and comedy, but it works. There is genuinely nightmarish imagery worthy of Tod Browning, and a detective investigating the case who could be Inspector Clouseau's French-Canadian cousin. As the villain, Michael Parks delivers a truly terrifying and intense performance that equals his fine work in Smith's RED STATE.

This film and RED STATE have renewed my interest in Smith's work. I never thought I'd be saying this again, but I look forward to seeing what he does next.