What I've Been Watching

Silent Film Edition: Part III

      D.W. Griffith and F.W. Murnau, two names featured prominently in my blog, are titans of cinema's past. The purpose of highlighting their work; therefore, is to underline their importance, to inspire an interest however mild in their exceptional work. Any film buff could comfortably laud their accomplishments. Such a statement presupposes that every consumer of film is desirous of the "buff" distinction. The box office receipts for films like Jack and Jill and New Year's Eve confirm my suspicions that a voracious awareness of film history, for the average moviegoer, is unnecessary. Well, I am not the average moviegoer. And I'm here to tell you, loyal readers who frequent my blog, neither are you. My commentary presumes your attentiveness for, yes, cinema's history. Presumptuous as it may be, this Silent Film segment, which will continue in perpetuity, is designed to fulfill your curiosities. Well, mine, too. So please enjoy. By the way, any paragraph that manages to invoke the names of Griffith and Murnau whilst identifying cockamamie cinema, for which Adam Sandler is routinely a fixture, is a paragraph that is about as inessential, as well, Sandler's next terrorizing tour through planet boredom. 

What I've Been Watching

Silent Film Edition: Part II

      In Part II of my Silent Film Marathon, I discuss two groundbreaking German films, their style reflective of the highly influential German Expressionist movement and their function emblematic of the horror/surreal/fantasy genres. Enjoy. And please feel free to impart some wisdom below. I'm eager to engage discussion. 

What I've Been Watching

Silent Film Edition: Part I

      There is no way I could conjoin, at least with any faithful accord, the words film and connoisseur without examining the silent film era. And not some thumbnail critique, but an honest inspection where the terms zeitgeist and technical efficiency dominate the lexicon. 
      For the obsessively xenophobic moviegoer, whose idea of a movie predicated strictly upon visuals, pantomime, and intertitles inspires loathsome charges of supreme boredom, this feature shall, I can only hope (thank you, Princess Leia), instill in you perhaps a scintilla of affection for the era that gave birth to our beloved cinema.
      The idea of merging sound and image, specifically "motion picture," is as old as film itself, but technical challenges, arising from difficulties synchronizing dialogue, prevented their practical marriage. With the advent of the Vitaphone system, ushering in the first commercially viable, feature-length motion picture with synchronized dialogue, 1927's The Jazz Singer, the prevalent utility of silent film was soon displaced by the commercial predominance of "talkies."  And in 1929, the modern sound film era found its near century-long stronghold; it took another thirty years before the preponderance of color would overtake black-and-white, in large part a result of the emergence of affordable, home-television sets. 
      Now, I do not intend for this post to be neither a history lesson nor a reprimand of today's widespread antipathy for the silent film era. And to be perfectly frank, seeing and appreciating The Artist does not render you an authority. Hopefully, though, it is the impetus that does encourage you to delve further into the era that did inspire Michel Hazanavicius's outstanding homage. 
      Before I undertook this massive task, this familiar song, a staple of perseverance, was flowing ubiquitously through my veins, peering into the imaginative window of my soul like a muse forlorn, thundering loudly in the background that occupies the dormant recesses of my audible mind: Rick Astley's Never Gonna Give You [Yes, you, Silent Film] Up http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ.

      The first two silent films I will spotlight are the two seminal works from the preeminent, pioneering American director, Mr. D.W. Griffith. Without further ado, let the Silent Film Party begin.