Silent Film Festival Report, Part II

I took Sunday morning off from movie-watching, and got to the Castro in time to see the last three screenings of the festival.

A- Man with a Movie Camera: I read about Dziga Vertov’s 1929 surreal documentary in college, but I didn’t see it until yesterday. The genre was actually fairly common in the late silent era: recreating a day in the life of a city through footage of actual people at work and play. But Vertov livened it up with strange and comical double exposures and visual effects, and by creating a maddenly fast pace in the editing room. He also made this movie something of a meta-documentary, with much of the movie following a cameraman traveling throughout the city (three actual cities were used) filming what he sees. The result is exhilarating and entertaining.

It’s also Communist propaganda. Vertov paints a picture of the Stalinist USSR as a place where people work hard, then play hard in healthy activities. They compete in sports, swim in the Black Sea, and enjoy mud baths and manicures. No starving Ukrainians here.

The Alloy Orchestra’s accompaniment seemed overbearing at first, with too much reliance on heavy percussion and an unrelenting pace. But about half-way through, they eased up a bit, and I ended up quite liking it.

B The Woman Disputed was my first Norma Talmadge movie. Now I know that she wasn’t just Buster Keaton’s sister-in-law and Joe Schenk’s wife; she was also a brilliant actress. She starts this movie, loosely based  Maupaussant’s "Boule de Suif" (also an unofficial inspiration on Stagecoach), as a prostitute. But she soon finds a better life with the help of two men, best friends, who both adore her. But World War I comes along, the friends are on opposing sides, and her past comes back to haunt her. The climax brings her to a shattering moral dilemma, but the epilogue ties things up way too neatly.

Stephen Horne gave his usual wonderful performance (this festival has turned me into a fan) on flute, accordion, and piano. He even managed shells whizzing through the air.

A- L’Heureuse mort closed the festival closed the festival with a bang, with a story  that every artist must have fantasized. A struggling playwright (Nicolas Rimsky, who also wrote the film) is lost at sea and presumed dead. He’s unharmed, of course, but before he can return to his wife, he discovers that, now that he’s dead, he’s revered, respected, and bankable. This is no time to make his survival known. The story depends a little too much on intertitles (which were in French, with live, spoken English translation), but kept everyone laughing, anyway.

The Matti Bye Ensemble accompanied this final film. I’d never heard them before. The music was pleasant and supported the film well.