SFIFF Silent Movie Night: Waxworks with Mike Patton, Scott Amendola, Matthias Bossi, and William Winant

Posted on May 8, 2013 by Lincoln Spector

Every year, the San Francisco Intl. Film Festival hosts a silent film event, where they match a movie–generally not one everyone has seen–with one or more musicians who enjoy a strong local following–but are not associated with silent film accompaniment.

This makes sense both culturally and financially. The event, always held at the Castro, attracts both silent film fans and fans of the musicians. The two groups mingle, and each is exposed to something new. And more people buy tickets, as well.

At least that’s the theory. Sometimes it works beautifully. Other times it doesn’t work at all.

Tuesday night, it worked beautifully. Let’s start with the movie:

With its exaggerated visuals and strong horror elements, Waxworks is German expressionism through and through. Directed by Paul Leni in 1924, it’s the only film I’ve seen with both major stars from the period: Emil Jannings and Conrad Veidt. Unfortunately, they have no scenes together. (Leni, Jannings, and Veidt all moved to Hollywood before the decade ended. Jannings and Veidt returned to Germany when sound came in. Veidt left for good after Hitler came to power. Jannings, to his immortal shame, did not.)

This anthology feature uses a simple framework to tell three different dark and imagedemented stories. A young writer takes a job in a wax museum, coming up with stories for the exhibits. Most of the film is made up of two such stories. The first stars Jannings as a sultan out to take a baker’s wife. The second stars Veidt (easily one of the best heavies cinema ever had) as the most evil Ivan the Terrible you can imagine. The third story, about Jack the Ripper (Werner Krauss) is nothing more than a chase.

Like all anthology movies, it’s uneven. But I enjoyed it.

The music helped considerably. I know nothing about the musicians that took the stage–Mike Patton, Scott Amendola, Matthias Bossi, and William Winant–I can’t even tell you if they play together regularly.  Their music–harsh, percussion-heavy, and usually without melody–would probably drive me crazy under any other circumstance. But it suited the film perfectly, adding to the creepy feel. They found plenty of ways to produce the sounds they wanted, including scat singing and rubbing a balloon. At home point, when Veidt rhythmically claps as wedding guests dance (only Veidt could make that threatening), one of the musicians beat two wooden sticks together for each clap.

The Festival got a hold a beautiful, tinted, 35mm print from Cineteca di Bologna. Some scenes were both tinted and toned–creating a two-color effect that until last night I had never seen on the big screen. There were a few scratches and a couple of moments of nitrate decomposition, but it was still a joy to watch. Although it was a German film and the print came from an Italian archive, the intertitles were in French. The Castro projected English translations as supertitles.

All told, a wonderful evening.

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Blancanieves: Silent Film Still Lives in this Spanish Snow White Tale

Posted on April 18, 2013 by Lincoln Spector

A- Silent melodrama

  • Written and directed by Pablo Berger

Could The Artist have started a trend? Less than 18 months after Michel Hazanavicius’ silent comedy hit Bay Area screens, here comes another brand new silent film, also in narrow-screen black and white.

But Pablo Berger’s very Spanish take on Snow White is as different from The Artist as Nosferatu is from The General. The Artist, a comedy about the death of its own medium, looks to Hollywood for its inspiration. Blancanieves looks to the more expressionistic silent film of Europe to tell a story that could not possibly have worked as well with sound and color.

This isn’t your typical Snow White. The movie is more than half over by the time the wicked stepmother decides to kill the heroine. In this version, her father is a famous matador, crippled on the day his wife died giving birth to Carmen. Of course he makes a very bad choice for a second wife, and eventually young Carmen must flee to safety.

Don’t expect nuanced characters here; this is straight-up melodrama. Maribel Verdú gets the best role as the evil nurse who marries the ex-bullfighter and makes everyone miserable. She chews the scenery,  exploits a young child, turns her chauffer into a sex toy, and happily murders her husband. And she does it all with relish. She can even bite into a chicken leg as an act of spiteful vengeance.

image

The seven dwarves–also bullfighters in this version and played by actual little people–bring in a level of joy and playfulness. At least three of them have strong, interesting characters, including one who clearly pines for Carmen (now called Snow White after she’s left home) and another who resents her.

In fact, all of the film’s weak moments–the times when the melodrama gets too overwrought and predictable–occur when neither the dwarves nor the stepmother are on screen. But isn’t that the case with all dramatic adaptations of Snow White? The villainess and sidekicks make up for the boring characters we’re supposed to root for.

But even in those weak scenes you’re still dazzled by Berger’s technique. Like the best European silent directors, he finds exciting ways to spin the camera and to visually tell us what he doesn’t show us. A close-up of a phonograph or a dissolve from one face to another communicates plenty.

I mentioned above that this story could not possibly have worked as well with sound and color. Here’s why: Blancanieves skirts on the edge of fantasy, with broad, slightly-overplayed characters and an overt, visually striking cinematic style that wouldn’t work in a more realistic medium. (The obvious, literal fantasy of the original tale and the Disney version have no place here.) The lack of talk, color, and realistic sound effects sets the story in an artificial world, allowing you to accept the more far-flung aspects of the story and style.

Berger has one tool that the real silent filmmakers lacked: sound. Alfonso de Vilallonga’s musical score propels the action and sometimes makes you want to dance. The music, as much as the costumes and the bullfighting, makes this very much a Spanish movie.

I don’t approve of bullfighting, or other forms of animal cruelty. I’m glad to say that, with all the arena scenes in this film, no bull dies in the course of the story. I can’t promise that none were injured making the movie, but if they were, we didn’t see it on screen.

The story is familiar, but Berger provides plenty of surprises. In the end, he stands the whole Prince Charming thing on its head.

Early on, as the melodrama built up, I found myself wondering why I’d agreed to screen this film. By the end, I was totally enchanted.

Blancanieves opens tomorrow at the Embarcadero.

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SF Silent Film Festival Report, Day 4

Posted on July 15, 2012 by Lincoln Spector

The Mark of Zorro
Big fun. I don't think I've seen this theatrically before, and certainly never with so big and enthusiastic a crowd. People cheered, hissed, and laughed on cue. Dennis James kept things lively on the Mighty Wurlitzer Organ, and Fairbanks' antics and stunts were stunning.

One thing I noticed about the story: Zorro is, inherently, a left-wing character. He's all about protecting the oppressed lower classes, even though he is himself an aristocrat. But this version made a big deal about how only those of “good blood” can stop the oppression.

The Docks of New York
My first experience with a silent Josef Von Sternberg. And guess what! It was the best Josef Von Sternberg I'd ever seen. His strength has always been his visual style, but silence gave that style a free range, and Docks has a stronger story than any other film of his I've seen (and I think I've seen all of his major talkies).

That story is like the seamy underbelly of On the Town. A stoker on shore leave, with only one night to enjoy himself, saves and then marries a suicidal prostitute on a whim. Full of atmosphere, eroticism, and a lead character whose motivations are never clear, but whose surprising actions always believable.

Donald Sosin kept the piano dark and moody, even with happy tunes like “Ain't We Got Fun.” The best film I've seen for the first time at this festival.

A Note Between Movies
I think the festival has tried to squeeze in too many movies a day this year. The result is that everything is late. The very first movie of the day, Mark of Zorro, ended when the second one was supposed to begin.

I'm writing this at 2:41, waiting for a picture that was supposed to start at 2:00.

I've just been told that today's problems came from incorrect information on Mark of Zorro's frame rate.

But frankly, I think they crammed too many shows into the festival this year. I can't find last year's schedule as I write this, but I don't think they were doing six programs a day like they did this year on Friday and Saturday (five today). There's no time to go for a walk or a restaurant meal. It wears you down.

On the other hand, I'd hate to have to decide what to cut.

Eroticon
I doubt that any genre is less suited for silent film than the comedy of manners. How do you adopt a stage play that consists of people standing around saying witty dialog to a non-verbal medium?

Did this Swedish version succeed in making the difficult transition? I'm not sure. I succumbed to festival exhaustion and slept through most if it. Judging from the laughter around me, I think it was a success.

I can't tell you if the Matti Bye Ensemble's score helped the film, but it did cause pleasant dreams.

Stella Dallas
“Ronald Colman in Stella Dallas” sounds like very daring casting. What it is, of course, is top billing going to the famous star in a supporting role. Belle Bennett is the real star–and gives a usually brilliant (but occasionally over-the-top) performance.

This is the first time I've seen any version of Stella Dallas, so I can't compare it to anything. But it's a heart tugger, even if I kept thinking of easier ways for these people to solve their problems. The famous ending had me, if not sobbing, at least mysty-eyed.

Stephen Horne's accompaniment was restrained and served the picture, without showing off.

The Cameraman
Buster Keaton's first film at MGM, his first without creative control, and his penultimate silent, comes close to being among his best. This story of a tintype photographer trying to break into the movie newsreel business provides plentiful opportunities for befuddlement, extended comic routines, and Keaton's patented pratfalls. The picture is filled with gags, and every one hit home with the festival audience.

Yet this is different from the Keaton-controlled film. There's a cute little monkey, and a running gag involving a confused cop (Harry Gribbon)–both bits that Keaton wouldn't have done. The most obvious change is one that's arguably for the better. The ingenue is actually intelligent, thoughtful, and helpful. You don't find much of that in Keaton's work.

The Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra accompanied The Cameraman in their usual splendid style. Their music carried the movie's emotions, helped the gags without overpunching them, and even knew when to be quiet for dramatic effect.

The movie, and the festival, ended at about 9:30. Now it's time to get back to real life.

 

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SF Silent Film Festival, Day 3

Posted on July 15, 2012 by Lincoln Spector

The Irrepressible Felix the Cat
This may have been the first theatrical, 35mm presentation of multiple Felix the Cat cartoons ever. The shorts were wild, crazy, bizarre, surreal, and hilarious. The accompaniment added much to the festivities. Donald Soosan and a drummer who's name I didn't get accompanied some of the shorts. Toychestra–a sextet playing toy instruments and a synthesizer–did the rest. They took turns, with Sosin and the drummer doing one cartoon, and Toychestra doing the next. Everyone joined in for the last one, involving a trip to Mars. There was singing from Toychestra, snoring sounds from Sosin, and monkey sounds, clapping, and laughter from the audience. The only disappointment was that it ended.

The Spanish Dancer
I've never been a fan of Pola Negri, the star of The Spanish Dancer. Her acting strikes me as stilted, and she usually played a annoyingly sexless seductress. But she's somewhat more acceptable here, as a gypsy dancer ingenue. Nevertheless, I really enjoyed this swashbuckler.

That had everything to do with the leading man, Antonio Moreno. He plays the joyful, devil-may-care swashbuckling hereo with the optimism of Fairbanks and the energy of Flynn. I'll have to find out more about him.

Donald Sosin once again supplied the music. This time, in addition to the grand piano, he was accompanied by two guitarists, and used a synthisizer as well as his usual grand piano. He had a laptop open, as well.

The Canadian
Not everything is a pleasant surprise. This drama about an Englishwomen who moves to her brother's farm in Alberta and marries a farmhand is only moderately interesting. Mona Palma at first plays the Englishwoman with so much snobbery that she fails to be either believable or sympathetic. She wins some sympathy as her problems build up–especially in one effective, shocking scene–but after that moment the movie slides into predictability. Thomas Meighan gets top billing as the new husband.

Stephen Horne's accompaniment, on piano and accordian, was better than the movie.

South
The good:

  • The whole Shackleton story of spectacular failure turning into spectacular success, is just so amazing and incredible.
  • The fact that there is a cinemagraphic record of this voyage is even more amazing.
  • Stephen Horne's musical score on piano and other instruments.
  • Actor Paul McGann's dramatic readings from Shackleton's diary.

The bad:

  • Nowhere near enough of McGann's dramatic readings from Shackleton's diary.
  • The movie is horribly padded with “cute” animal photography.
  • It was projected off a very bad digital source. My guess: A heavily-compressed DVD.
  • Although the screening started on time, it ended very late. That contributed to the biggest problem of he day. Read on:

Pandora's Box
We had to wait. South ended, with a pretty full house, only half an hour before Pandora's Box (which was sold out) was scheduled to open. Other delays inside (I don't know the details) delayed things further. The show finally started at 8:00.

I've loved this film for 20 or more years, but I've never experienced it like I did tonight.

First, there's the restoration: Previous screenings showed a film that was literally in black and white, without shades of gray. The new Pandora's Box showed the full monochrome range, and a great deal more detail. I could appreciate the lighting, the photography, and the acting better than ever. The bridal bedroom scene felt like the dark corners of the soul. And I wasn't so sure of Louise Brook's Lulu's naive innocence. There were times when I felt that she understood the destructive consequences of her behavior…maybe. That made her all the more interesting and, oddly, her tragedy all the sadder.

Then there was the music by Matti Bye Ensemble. Heavy on drums and strings, it created a sense of relentless motion and doom. This was, thanks to Matti Bye, the darkest Pandora's Box I've ever experienced. I loved it.

Because of the delay, I didn't stay for The Overcoat.

 

Filed under: Animation, Festivals, First-person Report, Restorations, Silent Films | 1 Comment »

SF Silent Film Festival, Day 2

Posted on July 13, 2012 by Lincoln Spector

Amazing Tales From the Vault
This year’s technical talk concentrated on digital restorations and distribution by major studios, with experts from Paramount and Sony (Columbia). I didn’t take notes, so I’ll just give you a quick overview:

  • Wings was projected off a DCP Friday night. Paramount has made a 35mm negative and prints of the new digital restoration, but the Festival decided to show the DCP because they were more confident of the quality.
  • The restoration cost about $700,000, and will probably lose money. Since Paramount is a for-profit company, this bodes ill for other silent restorations.
  • We were treated to a back-and-forth comparison of the first reel of Dr. Strangelove in 35mm and DCP. DCP looked better.
  • If you sit close enough to the screen, 4K projection looks better. They showed a single frame from Lawrence of Arabia in 2K and 4K. The difference, from my seat in the third row, was amazing.

Little Toys
I had mixed feelings about this late silent from Shanghai. At times, I felt the lack of sound as a flaw, something I rarely experience in a silent film. Other times, this tale of a brilliant toymaker and her tribulations in a world of war, touched me. Ruan Lingyu gave a brilliant performance as the lead, but at times it felt like it was going on too long.

The 35mm print looked washed out and badly scratched–probably a problem with the source and not this particular print. The Chinese intertitles had badly-translated, often grammatically strange, English subtitles.

Donald Sosin was, as usual, brilliant on the piano.

The Loves of Pharaoh
This is the sort of big, epic, costume melodrama that Hollywood loved in the 1950s–except it was made in Germany in the 1920s. The plot involved an evil yet love-sick pharaoh, a slavegirl, her lover, barbarian Ethiopians, and…well, you get the idea. Silly, but utterly entertaining.

Recently restored from two incomplete tinted prints, the movie is still not complete. Missing scenes were filled in with intertitles (“Pharaoh walks to the window”) and occasional stills.

The DCP presentation was acceptable, but not as crisp as Wings. One annoyance: The bulk of the intertitles used light blue letters, which was very distracting and anachronistic. Only the ones filling in for missing footage used the conventional white letters. It would have been better the other way around.

Dennis James provided fine music on the Castro’s mammoth pipe organ. There was no subtlety to the score, but that was appropriate, as there was no subtlety to the movie.

Mantrap
No surprises here. I own this romantic comedy–the perfect Clara Bow vehicle–on the Treasures 5 DVD box set. And I’ve even seen it once before at the Castro, with live music. But that didn’t keep me from enjoying the movie. After all, comedy is always better with a large and enthusiastic audience, and Stephen Horne’s score (mostly piano but also with some accordian and flute) sounds better live. A tale of a flirt who marries a hick, with a New York divorce lawyer thrown in as a reluctant piece of the triangle, is very much a work of its time. But in many ways, it’s timeless.

Physically, the film hasn’t aged well. The 35mm print from the Library of Congress came from a source that was scratched and lacked detail. Seeing this the day after Wings brought home the difference between preservation and restoration. No one will likely spend $700,000 to make Mantrap look new. So it has only been restored; the best existing print was copied to a more stable film stock.

I decided to skip the last movie of the evening, The Wonderful Lie of Nina Petrovna. I didn’t think I could stay awake for it. To paraphrase Lloyd Bridges in Airplane!, “I knew this was the wrong week to give up caffeine.”

But I did buy the Wings Blu-ray before I left.

Note: I corrected a factual error in the original post.

Filed under: Comedy, Festivals, Film Preservation, First-person Report, Silent Films, Restorations, Preservation, Digital Projection | Leave a Comment »

SF Silent Film Festival Report 1: Wings

Posted on July 12, 2012 by Lincoln Spector

I always felt that realistic sound effects weren't appropriate for silent films. I was wrong. Or perhaps this was just an exception. Realistic sound effects are fantastic if they're performed live by an ensemble directed by sound effects wizard Ben Burtt. Using bicycles, drums, a typewriter (I think) and devices that I couldn't possibly name (but all, I suspect, existing in 1927), Burtt and his team brought the air and land battles of World War 1 to life. The thrills, shocks, and horrors of combat came through in Burtt's audio as much as in William Wellman's images.

Music by the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra helped, as well. One of the best ensembles accompanying silent films today, they make any silent film come alive. But this time, to be honest, they were upstaged by the sound effects. I don't think they minded.

Silent movies were meant to be seen, not heard, so let's talk about visuals. Paramount's new restoration of Wings–the first Best Picture Oscar winner–is simply stunning. A couple of scenes looked grainier than the rest, but most of it looked like a brand-new black and white movie. Except there wasn't much black and white. Most of the movie was tinted, and if the tints lacked the excitement of those in Napoleon, they were still effective. Flames were hand-painted orange (or CGI'd to look hand-painted). I don't know if I saw a brand-new 35mm print or a digital copy, and frankly, I don't care.

But what about the movie itself? I don't know if it was the audio, the restoration, or my age, but Wings seemed much better than I remembered. A great, big epic of regular soldiers at war, it took its time developing the atmosphere and characters, and foreshadowing an important death. When the action starts, we're entirely invested.

The two leads, Charles (Buddy) Rogers and Richard Arlen, give complete and subtle performances. There's a moment when Arlen's character is receiving a medal, and the weary sadness and confusion on his face spoke more volumes than any dialog ever could. Among the other impressive performances are a not-yet-famous Gary Cooper in a small but effective role, and Henry B. Walthall as a father trying his best to repress emotions raging inside. The wonderful Clara Bow, despite her top billing, is wasted here as the ingenue in love with a man who doesn't realize he's in love with her.

Tomorrow night, we'll watch Bow shine in Mantrap, a movie more suited to her talents.

 

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Blu-ray Review: The Gold Rush

Posted on June 10, 2012 by Lincoln Spector

In 1925, Charlie Chaplin created what many consider his masterpiece: The Gold Rush. In 1942, he altered it to an extent that would make George Lucas blush. And he insisted to his dying day that the new version was the better one.

This Tuesday, Criterion releases a superb Blu-ray of The Gold Rush that includes what goldrushare probably the best possible presentations of both versions. The menus and some of the extras describe the 1942 edition as “definitive,” but don’t you believe them. The original, 1925 version is as definitive as The Gold Rush gets, and is the genuine masterpiece. Fortunately, Criterion presents that in all its glory.

Like Buster Keaton’s The General, The Gold Rush puts an iconic comic hero into the center of an otherwise serious period epic adventure. On those rare occasions when the camera isn’t on Chaplin the actor, Chaplin the auteur reminds us of the grim, torturous, and deadly character of the Alaskan Gold Rush, still recent history in 1925. People collapse from exhaustion, are murdered in cold blood, and die in an avalanche. Starvation is a very real threat (although in Chaplin’s hands, a funny one). Dance hall girls celebrating New Year’s Eve look sad and homesick as they sing Auld Lang Syne.

While Keaton seamlessly integrated his comedy into the spectacle and action, Chaplin keeps them separate. His tramp seems superimposed onto the setting, and not a part of it. He’s not even dressed for an Alaskan winter, and realistically would soon freeze to death. For Chaplin, the period setting is a frame for holding comedy sequences, almost all of which take place in confined, indoor settings. Almost all of The Gold Rush, including most exteriors, were shot at the studio.

But what comedy sequences he created there! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen The Gold Rush, but the Thanksgiving dinner and the dance with the rolls still crack me up, as do a great many other, lesser-known scenes. My favorite? Probably when two intimidatingly large men fight over a rifle. They’re completely oblivious to Charlie’s presence, but no matter where in the room he goes, the rifle always points at him.

I also love the dancehall scenes. Here Chaplin creates a real sense of a frontier goldrush-georgiacommunity, and puts his tramp character into this milieu as an alien who can’t possibly assimilate. The scenes are funny, touching, and romantic. There’s a moment when the dancehall girl ingénue (Georgia Hale) surveys the crowd, hoping to meet someone worth knowing. Charlie stands nervously next to her, hopelessly in love. In her longing to find someone special, her eyes look right through him as if he wasn’t there. Your heart breaks as you laugh.

I don’t quite put The Gold Rush in the same stratified air as The General or Chaplin’s City Lights. But it’s close.

Chaplin didn’t trust his audience to accept a silent film in 1942 (only six years after the release of his last silent, Modern Times). So before he rereleased the picture, he removed all of the intertitles, and added a narration.

That might have worked had the narration been as terse as his intertitles, and if he had hired a great voice–say, Orson Welles–to read it. But instead he wrote a verbose narration, explaining much that doesn’t have to be said, and spoke it himself.

There are reasons why Chaplin had his greatest success in silent films and not radio. His voice gets annoying very quickly. He’s overly excitable, melodramatic, and clearly in love with his lukewarm ability to do character voices. When characters’ move their silent lips, Chaplin tells you what they’re saying, in amateurish voices, even when it’s painfully obvious and no intertitle was used in the original. He also adds quick identifying statements like “Big Jim said…” And when characters aren’t talking, he often tells us what they’re doing, even though we can see it clearly for ourselves.

It’s not all a loss. He succeeds in enhancing two brief moments with verbal jokes. Better yet, he shuts up during most of the major comic set pieces.

In addition to the narration, Chaplin added an excellent musical score and sound effects. He also trimmed a few scenes without doing serious damage.

First Impression

goldrush-boxTypical for Criterion, The Gold Rush comes in a clear case a bit larger than a typical Blu-ray case. Criterion includes a 24-page booklet containing the film’s credits, an essay on the film by Luc Sante, James Agee’s review of the 1942 version, a brief piece on the restoration, and credits for the disc.

How It Looks

Original 1925 version: Years after Chaplin altered the film in 1942, he failed to both renew his copyright on the original and to preserve the physical film. This resulted in a lot of very bad, almost unwatchable prints.

Over the course of many years, Kevin Brownlow and David Gill have  restored The Gold Rush to something approaching its original form. They consider the version on this disc to be a work in progress; they’re always hoping that new material will turn up.

Most of this transfer looks very good, although it doesn’t measure up to the exceptional Blu-ray transfers of The General or Metropolis (well, most of Metropolis). The images are clear and detailed, with only occasional film-based artifacts. In the above-mentioned dancehall scenes, you can really appreciate how well cameraman Rollie Totheroh’s lighting created atmosphere and subtly separated Chaplin for the crowed, emphasizing his alienation.

But then, every so often, it looked mediocre or worse. There’s only so much Brownlow and Gill could do with bad source material.

1942 version: The image quality here is far more consistent, which is hardly surprising since it was better cared for and didn’t need a restoration. It looks very good throughout.

How It Sounds

Original 1925 version: Chaplin’s family insists that the restoration only be shown with Timothy Brock’s adaptation of Chaplin’s 1942 score. Although I would have liked one or two alternative scores, I can’t complain. Shorn of the irritating narration, this easily becomes Chaplin’s best work as a composer. It supports the film and never overwhelms it. Chaplin understood that funny images don’t need funny music.

One odd touch: The score is almost completely devoid of musical sound effects. Even a gunshot doesn’t merit a bass drum or other instrument. Chaplin’s reason was obvious: He wrote this score for the 1942 version, which includes realistic sound effects. They were there, but not part of the musical score.

Brock recorded this score with a full orchestra, and it’s presented in lossless DTS Master Audio 5.1 surround. Needless to say, it sounds great.

1942 version: The original mono soundtrack is reproduced in uncompressed PCM. It sounds great, allowing you to fully appreciate what a bad speaking voice he had.

And the Extras

Hey, it’s Criterion!

  • Audio commentary for the 1925 version by Chaplin biographer and archivist Jeffrey Vance. This is an excellent commentary, and Vance makes a convincing argument that this is Chaplin’s best work–even if he didn’t quite convince me. He offers excellent insights into much of the film’s background, including its autobiographical elements.
  • Presenting The Gold Rush: 16 minutes. A quick overview of the film’s history, with emphasis on the restoration.
  • Chaplin Today: The Gold Rush: 27 minutes. A documentary on the making of the film. Made in 2002, this was also on the Warner Brothers DVD release, and is the only extra not new to this release.
  • A Time of Innovation: 19 minutes. Special effects wizard Craig Barron (Titanic, Raiders of the Lost Ark) discusses how cinematographer Rollie Totheroh achieved The Gold Rush’s effects entirely in the camera. Absolutely fascinating.
  • Music by Charles Chaplin: Composer/conductor Timothy Brock discusses Chaplin as a composer.
  • Four trailers

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Why Silents Are Golden: This Year’s San Francisco Silent Film Festival

Posted on May 17, 2012 by Lincoln Spector

As regular readers know, I’m passionate about silent movies. Without the crutch of spoken words, a motion picture becomes pure cinema–reality on an entirely different plane. The actors can be fully unique, complex individuals (not that they always are) while remaining archetypes.

Take Louise Brooks. In silent films, she’s magical, mysterious, and the very embodiment of female sexuality. In a talkie, she’s a pretty girl from Kansas.

When you see a silent film, properly presented, you get more than a movie; you get a concert. When silents ruled the cinema, every movie theater kept musicians on the payroll. Today, more than 80 years after the death of the art form, there’s no lack for talented and creative composers and musicians skilled at accompanying silent files.

And there’s no better way to enjoy the films and the musicians than the San Francisco Silent Film Festival. For four days every July, the Festival takes over the Castro Theater to exhibit well-known masterpieces, forgotten gems, and rare prints, while also bringing in exceptional musicians to accompany them. The Castro’s own gaudy glory, huge screen, and variable-speed projectors add to the atmosphere, as does the large, enthusiastic audience that the festival attracts.

This year, the Festival runs from Thursday, July 12, through Sunday, July 15. Here are just a sampling of the screenings I’m most looking forward to:

  • Wings. The festival opens with the first Best Picture Oscar winner. Newly restored by Paramount, it will be accompanied by the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra (amongst my favorites), with live sound effects by one of Hollywood’s best, Ben Burtt, (for more on Burtt, see The Sound of Wall-E at the Rafael).
  • The Loves of Pharaoh. This big, German historical epic, directed by Ernst Lubitsch shortly before he came to America, will be accompanied by Dennis James on the Castro’s Mighty Wurlitzer pipe organ.
  • Pandora’s Box. Speaking of Louise Brooks, here’s her masterpiece. Newly restored, it will be accompanied by the Matti Bye Ensemble.
  • The Docks of New York. I’ve never seen this highly-praised Josef von Sternberg drama, but I’m looking forward to it. Accompanied by Donald Sosin on the grand piano.
  • The Cameraman. Buster Keaton’s first film for MGM, his penultimate silent, and, in many people’s opinions, his last masterpiece. The Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra will accompany both this and the newly restored “Trip to the Moon.”

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SFIFF Report: Buster Keaton and Merrill Garbus

Posted on April 24, 2012 by Lincoln Spector

Last night I attended the San Francisco International Film Festival silent movie event at the Castro–four Buster Keaton shorts (two of them actually Fatty Arbuckle shorts with Keaton in supporting roles), accompanied by Merrill Garbus of tUnE-yArDs along with guitarist Ava Mendoza.

This is something of a tradition at the Festival–screening silent films with accompaniment by musicians with a strong, local following. Some people come because they love the music, others because they love the movies. The result is a large crowd and a merging of two different fandoms. When it works, it’s great. When it doesn’t, it’s horrible.

Last night’s worked–for the most part.

The Movies

I’ll take these one by one, in the order they were presented.

One Week
Buster Keaton’s second film as star and auteur, and the first one released, is rightly considered a classic. It follows newlyweds as they attempt to build a house from a kit–with very bad results. Highlights include a storm that sends the house spinning on its foundation (during the house-warming party, of course), and the first of Keaton’s many great train gags.

Good Night, Nurse!
This Fatty Arbuckle two-reeler is the only short of the evening I hadn’t seen before. Fatty’s wife sends him to a clinic where his alcoholism will be surgically removed. It’s never explained how. Keaton plays the surgeon. It’s quite funny–especially the drunk sequence at the beginning–but runs out of steam before it’s finished.

The Haunted House
One of Keaton’s less-shown shorts, which is a pity, since in my opinion it’s one of his best. It starts in a bank (Keaton is a teller) then moves to an old house that a gang of counterfeiters have rigged up to look haunted. The glue-and-cash sequence, and the running gag involving a staircase that turns into a slide are both priceless.

The Cook
When I first posted about last night’s show, I said I hadn’t seen this one before. I was wrong. Set in a restaurant with Fatty cooking and Buster waiting tables, it allows both comedians several chances to perform priceless bits. But like "Good Night, Nurse," it begins to drag near the end.

The Music

I’d never heard of Merrill Garbus, tUnE-yArDs, or Ava Mendoza before this event. They’re very good, in their own art rock sort of way.

For the most part, I liked their accompaniment. They added real terror to One Week’s Setup for the musiciansstorm sequence, without violating the comedy. Their music enhanced the comedy, and synced very well with it. In a scene in "The Cook" where an on-screen audience applauds, they stopped playing music and applauded.

They had their off-moments. Garbus occasionally sang, which was distracting and added nothing.

But their worst problem was volume. I’m a Who fan and no stranger to loud music. But theirs was so loud I could barely hear the audience laughing. That takes much of the joy out of watching Keaton with an audience.

The Prints (or Lack of Them)

The physical condition of the movies themselves was the biggest disappointment. Of course they came from sources that were scratched and faded, but that’s to be expected from films of this vintage.

The Festival added to the problem by screening them digitally–and they didn’t look to me like high-quality DCP. I would guess that the Keaton shorts were off the Buster Keaton Short Films Collection Blu-ray. Considering the condition of the original film sources, that was acceptable. But the Arbuckles appeared to be off of a DVD. There’s something no way that a DVD can look anything but awful on the Castro’s giant screen.

I know that there’s at least one good, 35mm print of "One Week;" I saw it in 2007–at an SFIFF event. I’m pretty sure that when I saw "The Cook," it was a 35mm print, as well. But that was before I started blogging my movie-going and I’m not sure.

Despite the loud music and bad "prints," it was still an evening worth visiting. Garbus’ sense of humor goes very well with Keaton’s, and Keaton’s goes very well with everything.

Filed under: Comedy, Festivals, First-person Report, SFIFF, Silent Films | Tagged: , | 1 Comment »

Great Napoleon Photo

Posted on March 28, 2012 by Lincoln Spector

The San Francisco Silent Film Festival included this photo in a recent email. I thought I should share it:

Click it to see the full-sized image.

I’ve also added this image to my report on Saturday’s screening.

Filed under: Large Formats, Silent Films, Technical | Tagged: , , , | Leave a Comment »

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