Jason goes to Silentfest: Day 4

Finally, I got the full experience, from 10 am to nearly 11 pm, with six shows and very little in the way of breaks.

But first, I just had to have my traditional breakfast at Orphan Andy's, a Castro institution. Fully fueled from that, I was ready for some movies!

THE LIGHTS OF OLD BROADWAY (1925): We started it off with a showcase of Marion Davies. Two twin orphaned infants on a ship to America. One is adopted by a wealthy family, heavily invested in gas. The other adopted by poor Irish immigrants, heavily invested in throwing bricks at the rich landlords trying to evict them from their slum. Each grows up according to her environment, and each is played by Marion Davies as an adult. Fely, the rambunctious poor Irish lass, is definitely the starring role, as she is discovered first by a theater manager who puts her on stage where she's a hit. And then by Dirk de Rhonde (Conrad Nagel), the son of a wealthy family...heavily invested in gas...who is smitten because...she reminds him of his adopted sister, Anne? Okay, that's kind of creepy. Their romance challenges his family loyalty, as his father is trying to evict her family from their slum, and her father beaned his father with a brick. Only one thing can save them--an all out fight and the advent of electric lights, which brilliantly turn everything from black and white to color, and change fortunes overnight. Excellent fun, a great way to start a long day of movies.

And moving it all along was the excellent accompaniment by Philip Carli on the grand piano.

Marion Davies, stealing the show

BROWNIE'S LITTLE VENUS (1921): The next show started with this adorable Baby Peggy short. Let's see what I wrote about it back in 2012:

One of Baby Peggy's earliest co-stars was Brownie the dog, and with her rediscovery he's getting a renewed career, too (although he has to appreciate it from doggie heaven.) As adorable as Baby Peggy is, Brownie's really the star here, helping her get dressed (even tightening her corset) for a big day, then helping her foil a robbery.

Okay, I'd add to that he's not just Brownie the dog, he's Brownie the Wonder Dog! And I'd be remiss not to give credit also to Peggy's parents, Bud Jamison and Lillian Biron.

HELL BENT (1918): Then it was time for a John Ford / Harry Carey collaboration, a team who took westerns to new heights of popularity. Carey practically perfected the iconic character of the "good bad man" that had been previously explored by William S. Hart and of course Niles' own Broncho Billy Anderson. Here he plays a card sharp with a heart of gold. He befriends Cimmaron Bill (Duke Lee) in typical cowboy fashion--by getting into an all-out brawl with him that ends with them singing. He also falls for Bess Thurston (Neva Gerber), who works in a dance hall because her lazy, good-for-nothing brother Jack (Vester Pegg) is...lazy and good for nothing. Jack ends up joining a gang led by Beau Ross (Joseph Harris) so Harry has to do the right thing and foil their robbery and save Bess. Full of rousing action, good humor, tension, and sweeping John Ford vistas. Good fun.

Philip Carli again provided the accompaniment, and was excellent.

Harry Carey, at his Harry Carey-est

GOONA GOONA (1931): Then it was time for a trip to Bali for this amazing cultural artifact. Shot on location, and framed as a story told to an anthropologist, a Balinese legend is brought to life by Balinese locals. A prince comes home from studying in Europe, and brings with him dangerous European ideals. Like, it's okay to marry outside your caste, or to marry for love, or when that doesn't work out, just go ahead and have an affair with your servant's wife. Okay, these ideas don't exactly work out well, but it's an engaging story well told, with plenty of local flavor and traditional dress...meaning the women are often topless.

I know, we westerners have an obsession with tits, sorry, that's the culture I grew up in. And it's not just me. The title (which is supposed to be a sort of love potion powder) ended up becoming a generic term for southeast and far east Asian exploitation flicks, particularly one in which the women are topless...for ethnographic authenticity, a la National Geographic. I guess that's Bali for you.

But let's not obsess over that, instead obsess over the amazing score by Club Foot Gamelan, the combination of Club Foot Orchestra and Gamelan Sekar Jaya.

An authentic (as far as I know) Balinese ceremony.

L'HOMME DU LARGE (MAN OF THE OPEN SEAS) (1920): Then it was time for some high melodrama of the sea, based on a story by Balzac. We begin with Nolff (Roger Karl), a fisherman taking a vow of silence for the rest of his life. We then flash backwards to what led up to his sorry state. A loving wife, a young daughter, and a newborn son. He lets his wife raise the daughter, and he raises the son with a plan for him to love the sea. But that doesn't go as planned, and the grown-up son is a ne'er-do-well who hates the sea to spite his father. He loves the village...the excitement there...although he has run up some debts. This ruins the family, and through tragedy upon tragedy leads to Nolff's vow that opens the film. Beautifully shot and acted, it's high melodrama at its highest, and a bit of a tribute to the power and beauty of the see, particularly on the Brittany coast.

Guenter Buchwald and Frank Bockius provide the excellent score, and instead of obscuring the beautifully crafted French intertitles, translations were narrated live by actor Paul McGann

THE WEDDING MARCH (1928): Melodrama was the order of the day, and what could be more melodramatic than Erich von Stroheim directing and starring is a romance. Opposite both Fay Wray (in her first featured role) and Zasu Pitts, no less. Stroheim plays Nicki, a prince of Vienna whose full name is a kilometer long, who gives up his skirt-chasing ways as soon as he lays eyes on Mitzi (Fay Wray.) Trouble is, the royal family needs money, and she is a commoner. His parents want him to marry into money, and that would be Cecilia (Zasu Pitts), the limping daughter of a local tycoon of corn plasters. But Nicki wants Mitzi, even if that raises the hackles of local butcher (and ironically, a pig) Schani. Raises them to possibly murderous levels. It's again high, high melodrama, and with an ending that's...well, that's a Stroheim kind of ending (hint: not happy.)

The whole affair was beautifully accompanied by the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra

Fay Wray and Erich von Stroheim, in love.

L'INFERNO (1911): And finally the long, long day ended with this lavish Italian interpretation of Dante's Inferno. It's been about a decade since I read it, but from what I remember it's a fairly faithful adaptation. Virgil, at the behest of Beatrice, leads Dante through the 9 levels of hell. The visuals are lavish and actually pretty creepy. Like many early movies it suffers from a very staged, static style, which makes it a pretty long slog even at just 66 minutes. Or maybe that was just my exhaustion. Anyway, great special effects (especially with the guy condemned to carry his own severed head around) but they were still figuring out pacing. But at least the visuals were beautifully gruesome and macabre. Oh, and most of the tortured souls are nearly naked in hell. But I guess that's Italy for you.

And for the macabre and weird, of course the Matti Bye Ensemble needed to provide the accompaniment, with Paul McGann again providing narration for the intertitles.

There's a lot of nudity in Hell, but not the kind you want to see. Kind of like Burning Man.

Total Running Time: 470 minutes
My Total Minutes: 504,876

Jason goes to Silentfest: Day 3

Two more movies on Friday. Again my day job kept me away from the early shows, but I got to see a couple of great ones, and I checked into my weekend home, Beck's Motor Lodge.

THE LOVE OF JEANNE NEY (DIE LIEBE DER JEANNE NEY) (1927): Set in Crimea after the Soviet Revolution, where Bolsheviks and Cossacks are fighting. Jeanne (Édith Jéhanne) is the daughter of French diplomat André Ney (Eugen Jensen) and lover of Andreas Labov (Uno Henning). A scheming, lecherous opportunist Khalibiev (Fritz Rasp) sells André a list of Bolshevik agents--a list that includes Jeanne's lover Andreas. That leads to a confrontation that kills her father, wounds Andreas, and leads to Jeanne fleeing to Paris. She is followed, more dangerous encounters ensue, and Brigitte Helm (most famous, of course, for METROPOLIS) has a supporting role as a blind girl who is the target of more of Khalibiev's schemes. And my head is kind of left spinning by the plot but marveling at the camerawork, pacing, and editing.

Guenter Buchwald Ensemble (Guenter, Frank Bockius, and Sascha Jacobsen)

Jeanne and Andreas

WEST OF ZANZIBAR (1928): And we ended the night with a co-presentation by Midnites for Maniacs, introduced by the head Maniac himself, Jess Hawthorne Ficks.

It's a Todd Browning (DRACULA, FREAKS) and Lon Chaney (the original Man of 1,000 faces) collaboration, one of the greatest partnerships in the entire silent film era, at least for classic genre fans. Chaney is a stage magician, Phroso, with a beautiful wife and assistant Anna (Jacqueline Gadsdon). But she's been cheating on him with Crane (Lionel Barrymore) and Crane attacks him, leaving him crippled and running off with Anna. A year later, a broken Phroso learns that Anna has returned. He finds her dead in a church with a baby girl--the proof of her infidelity--by her side. So he plots revenge. It takes 18 years, in Africa, where Crane has become an ivory merchant. But he gets in good with the natives, using his magic to lead them with his cadre of helpers, he is now known just as "Dead Legs." The plot and visuals are somewhat shocking, even today, and the revenge scheme is grotesque. And of course, because it's from the master of the macabre, things don't go quite according to plan. An absolutely dark treat, and a great film to just try to sleep after (I didn't, I stayed up and halfway caught up on my blog.)

Stephen Horne and Frank Bockius again (he's been busy this festival!) kept the tight, tense, and macabre plot churning ahead with their score, and it was all a lot of fun.

Dead Legs keeping the co-conspirators in his revenge plot in line.

Total Running Time: 170 minutes
My Total Minutes: 504,406

Jason goes to Silentfest: Day 2

I worked my day job so missed the matinee shows on Thursday, but I was there for two evening shows, and they were both amazing.

THE SIGNAL TOWER (1924): This train picture climaxes with one of the most tense and thrilling scenes I've ever seen. But first, we meet Dave (Rockcliffe Fellowes) who runs the signal tower remote in the Mendocino Mountains. He has an important job, making sure the tracks are cleared so the trains can get through. He lives there was his wife Sally (the beautiful Virginia Valli), their son (Frankie Darro), and his aging colleague and friend, Old Bill (James Barrows.) But the railroad has pensioned Bill and sent him into retirement with a vacation in New York. So a new night shift signal man comes in, Joe, played by Wallace Beery at his oiliest. Dave and Sally could use rent money, so the bring him into their home. And at first it looks like there might be a romance between him and cousin Gertie (Dot Farley.) But he has his eyes on Sally, instead. It gets super creepy, and then super dangerous when a train breaks on a stormy night and the back half starts barreling down the track and must be derailed before it crashes into the Express. That's the super-tense scene I alluded to in the beginning. It all plays out with the dual tension of the train and Joe's assault on Sally, but there's also plenty of room for humor and well-fleshed out characters.

Keeping things alternately tense and humorous was the charging score of Stephen Horne on piano and Frank Bockius on percussion.

Virginia Valli doing her best to resist Wallace Beery

OPIUM (1919): And then the late show was a trip as hallucinatory as the title would suggest. Directed by Robert Reinert, it's the story of Dr Gesellius (Eduard von Winterstein), who has studied the terrible effects of opium and set up a sanitarium to treat addicts. But he himself falls under its spell, and the whole movie takes a wild turn. It's a sprawling tale, from China to England to India, and the costumes and makeup reflect the unfortunate racism of the time (the scheming Chinese opium dealer shows up repeatedly to torment the good doctor.) But there's a very full story (I was surprised to look back at the notes and see it's only 91 minutes long) and takes you on a trip around the world and through the mind of a hallucinating opium fiend (including more topless scenes than you usually see in a movie of that time, but I guess that's Germany for you.)

And Guenter Buchwald's amazing score kept the hallucinations flowing freely.

Dr Gesellius feeling guilty about his patient, since he kind of caused his injury

Total Running Time: 175 minutes
My Total Minutes: 504,235

Jason goes to Silentfest: Opening Night

The most amazing, intense, extended weekend of the year kicked off Wednesday night, and of course I was there.

The film of the night was Buster Keaton's THE CAMERAMAN (1928): Let's look back on what I said about it back when it was the closing night film in 2012:

What can I say, this is Buster Keaton being a comic genius. It's also the first film he made for MGM, and the start of him losing control over his own films--something he later called his worst mistake in his life. But he's still great in this as a humble tin-type photographer who sees a pretty girl (Marceline Day,) finds out she works at an MGM newsreel office, and decides to clear out his savings account to buy movie camera, get the great footage, and really impress her. He just has a bit of a learning curve. But with his stone-faced gumption and a very clever monkey, he saves the day. It also includes a hilarious public pool sequence that is surprisingly risque for the time. Hilarious, and I just had to wonder how the cameramen on the movie felt about the scene showing a monkey could do their job.

Yup, I still stand by all of that. I'll just add a comment about the hilarious running scene where the girl of his dreams calls him up and he runs to her building before she can even hang up the phone. And, of course, I have to give credit to the brilliant musical accompaniment by Timothy Brock conducting students of the San Francisco Conservatory of Music.

Credits where credit is due, with a cameo by my fingertip!

Then a little after party at McRoskey Mattress Company, the festival's longtime sponsor. A few drinks, catching up with my one-weekend-out-of-the year friends, and then it was time for a little sleep so I could work and then be at the festival again the next night.

Running Time: 72 minutes
My Total Minutes: 504,060

Jason goes to the Silent Film Festival's Day of Silents

It was weird, in the wake of the Paris attacks, telling people I was going up to the city for a day of silent, and having them think I met "silence." In any case, a full day of silent films, including some gems I'd never seen before.

THE BLACK PIRATE (1926): This one I had seen before, most recently in 2009, when I wrote this:

And then Douglas Fairbanks wowed the crowd with his trademark daring-do--in Technicolor. That's right, all the way back in the silent days (THE BLACK PIRATE was made in 1926), there were some color films. Two-strip Technicolor was the new thing then, although it was very expensive and some projectionists had a hard time with it, so it was released in color and black-and-white prints. We got the color version.

Fairbanks plays the title role (of course), but he doesn't start as a pirate. He and his father are the only survivors of a pirate attack, and are marooned on an island. He swears revenge, and as luck would have it the pirates show up to hide their treasure. But instead of a straightforward attack, he uses his cunning. He joins the pirates, and kills their leader in a test of strength and skill with a sword. To most, he becomes the new leader, but there's a faction that is loyal to the old ways. He wins most over by taking a merchant vessel single-handed (a showcase of his acrobatics). But then when it's discovered that there's a beautiful young lady on the ship, he must protect her--both because of his sense of honor and because of love at first sight. And this leads to more cunning, more acrobatics, and more heroism.

Well, that's okay for a plot synopsis, but it doesn't convey how much fun the movie is. Douglas Fairbanks is still Superman in my book.

AROUND CHINA WITH A MOVIE CAMERA (1900-1948): Now this was a fascinating compilation from the BFI's archives. See Shanghai as a major international city. See the gates of the Forbidden City in Beijing. And also see the variety of film techniques in the day (tinted film, static or moving shots...this is a quick argument against anyone who naively thinks all silent films are alike.) And at the end it features some mysterious footage that might just be the oldest film ever shot in China (possibly pre-1900.) Pretty cool.

THE GRIM GAME (1919): One thing I didn't know before getting into silent films was that Harry Houdini was, in fact, a movie star. This movie, like his others, is an excuse to put him in one ridiculous escape scenario after another. In this one he plays a newspaper reporter with rich, miserly uncle who hates him. Houdini comes up with a strange plan to increase newspaper sales--frame himself for his uncle's murder. Not only will it drive up sales, but when the uncle shows up alive after a vacation in the country, it will totally discredit the idea of "circumstantial evidence"--the paper's cause célèbre. Unfortunately his boss and his business associates have their own plans--actually kill the uncle, frame Houdini, and steal the money. So Houdini has to go through one daring escape after another--and even an airplane stunt--to prove his innocence and catch the bad guys. Not the most nuanced of plots, but as a device to get Houdini from one escape to another, it serves pretty well. And his charisma does come across on screen.

THE INHUMAN WOMAN (1924): The we got to the real major treat of the day, a movie I want to own more than any other (and will be coming courtesy of Lobster Films and Flicker Alley in February!) It's beautifully constructed, with wild expressionist sets and architecture that out-Metropolis METROPOLIS four years before it was made. The story centers around a famous singer and her parties that attract artistic and intellectual elites from around the world--really any important person must be invited to her parties at least once. Of course all the men try to woo her, but all are rebuffed. Most importantly, a young engineer and inventor, who after being rebuffed drives off in a hurry and crashes over a cliff into the sea. She is blamed for the suicide, but goes ahead with her next concert anyway (where the extras in the audience include Picasso, Man Ray, James Joyce, and Ezra Pound...not to be a name-dropper.) The story takes increasingly bizarre, fantastical, science-fiction turns, and is just an absolutely amazing masterpiece, which apparently caused quite a controversy when it was first released.

PICADILLY (1929): And finally, we ended the night with Anna May Wong at her finest. Wong is still a favorite, especially in the Asian-heavy demographics of the SF Bay Area. And after getting nothing more than stereotypical dragon-lady roles in Hollywood, she moved to England for this film. She plays Shosho, a scullery maid in a popular London club. There her dancing is distracting enough to cause problems--a dirty plate makes it to the restaurant table. She's fired, but shortly after so is the club's star dance attraction. So the club manager finds her and decides a little exotic charm might be just what the club needs. Multiple love triangles ensue, and since she comes from the tough part of town (the Limehouse district) you just know someone's gonna ended up all murdered. Wong is perfect as a femme fatale with childlike sweetness...if you treat her right. A character straight out of the best of film noir, and this movie serves as a great bit of proto-noir.

And that was the Day of Silents. Looking forward to the whole long weekend of silents back at the Castro next June!

Total Running Time: 439 minutes
My Total Minutes: 412,295

Jason goes to Silentfest--The End

And Jason is freakin' exhausted, so excuse me if I'm not blogging with my usual energy.

After a good 4 hours of sleep, I was back bright and early at the Castro for some breakfast at Orphan Andy's and a 10:00 am program of The Kings of Silent Comedy. The program was introduced by a mainstay of the festival, Mr. Leonard Maltin...on video from L.A. For the first time in something like 8 years he wasn't there in person at the festival. But that didn't keep the rest of us from having a good time.

FELIX GOES WEST (1924): Maltin made a great case for Felix not just being a cartoon star, but a true comedy pantomime star, rivaling the likes of Chaplin. In this one a hungry Felix catches a trip out west, to the land of opportunity. There he gets into a bit of a scrape with the Indians and a bear. Pretty funny, but with the jumps in this I have a feeling we saw a print with missing scenes.
MIGHTY LIKE A MOOSE (1925): My favorite of the lesser-known silent comedians, Charley Chase brought the house down with this story of an ugly, buck-toothed husband (Chase) and his equally ugly big-nosed wife (Vivien Oakland.) Unbeknownst to each other, they each get work done to fix their imperfections, and actually look quite nice. So nice when they meet they don't recognize each other and start an affair where they have to sneak around their spouses to see each other. Confusing? Only the way I described it. On screen it made perfect sense and was absolutely hilarious. Maybe my new favorite short comedy ever.
THE LOVE NEST (1922): Buster Keaton's final short film before moving on to features, and one of his darkest and most surreal ones. Since his sweetheart broke off their engagement, he has decided not to marry her. Instead, he'll set out in a tiny boat to sail around the world. He's picked up by a whaling ship with a fearsome captain who tosses anyone who displeases him overboard. Wacky hijinx ensue, ending with Buster on a naval practice target. Weird and funny.
THE IMMIGRANT (1917): Chaplin, his leading lady Edna Purviance, and his classic giant foil Eric Campbell. Chaplin's little tramp comes to America and gets into all sorts of trouble. Most notably with the difficulty of trying to pay for a meal at a restaurant (Campbell plays the surly waiter demanding he cough up for the bill.) Classic Chaplin, very funny.

Then we had an extra treat with a home movie of Stan Laurel at home with his lifetime achievement Oscar and his marionettes of himself and Oliver Hardy. In some ways it's weird to see this star aged, but when he pulls that classic Stan Laurel smile, it was delightful.

And speaking of delightful, Günther Buchwald did an excellent job accompanying on the piano and violin.

THE OUTLAW AND HIS WIFE (1918): A tradition of the festival for about as long as I've been going has been to play a Swedish film, and this year it was Victor Sjöström's (known in Hollywood as Victor Seastrom) dark epic from Iceland. Sjöström stars as the titular outlaw, a stranger who appears in a village and takes work on Halla's (Edith Erastoff, the future Mrs. Sjöström) farm. Jealous rivals accuse him of being a thief, and while in this case he's innocent, it's true that he has a history. He is the infamous Eyvind, known as "Mountain" Eyvind, a notorious thief (although, to be fair, he only started stealing to keep his parents and siblings from starving to death. He and Halla run away and become one of Iceland's many mountain outlaws. They live the for a few years, even have a daughter together. But all has to come to a tragic end, if not at the hands of the villagers searching for them, but at the hands of a cruel, harsh, and uncaring nature. SPOILER ALERT: there's a controversial scene where to keep their daughter from being captured and raised by the villagers, Halla tosses her off a cliff to her death. A powerful and shocking scene, but also made me lose all sympathy for her.

The Matti Bye Ensemble accompanied and did an excellent job as always. 

THE LAST EDITION (1925): Then we got some local SF flavor with this story set in the San Francisco Chronicle. This wasn't a lost film so much as a forgotten film, and while it's not the most artistically polished or innovative film in the festival, it's a solid story well told. Tom McDonald works in the printing press for the Chronicle (the film showcases the entire printing process, which was fascinating.) He lives by and preaches a simple code of truth, love, and duty. His son has just become a lawyer and he couldn't be more proud. But when an investigation into a notorious bootlegger leads to his son being framed, McDonald has a moral crisis. Chases in San Francisco, a crime thriller and newspaper drama rolled into one. Heck, forget what I said about this not being artistically polished or innovative. It's just a darn good story and I loved it.

Stephen Horne accompanied, and after that performance he's officially an honorary San Franciscan. I guess he can go back to England when he wants to, but we own a part of him.

THE WEAVERS (1927): Then this film was, in my opinion, the sleeper hit of the festival. Set in 1844 Silesia (a region that overlaps Poland, The Czech Republic, and a little bit of Germany,) and based on an 1892 play by Gerhart Hauptman, this tells the story of the uprising of cotton weavers. They have been kept in poverty by the villainous Dreisiger family, the lords of the region who control the cloth trade. They alone get to decide who gets work weaving cloth and how much they get paid. People are starving to death, taking the family dog to the butcher so they can eat one more day (what the hell, the dog would've died of starvation anyway.) There is hope, in the beginning they make a big deal of the Knights of the Order of the Swan, an order specifically set up to eliminate poverty. After little debate they come to a grand conclusion--they must go to Africa and bring Christianity to the negro race (hey, their words, not mine!) Eventually it just gets too much, and in a glorious (and timely) explosion of revolutionary rage, the weavers march on the Dreisigers, storm their home, and destroy everything (but don't set it on fire, then the insurance will pay out--the point is to make the Dreisigers as poor as the weavers.)

Günther Buchwald accompanied on the piano and sang the weaver's anthem, and I have to say he's a wonderful addition to the festival. Welcome to the SFSFF team, Günther!

SAFETY LAST (1923): And finally we ended the festival on a high note (after a couple of nights of long, depressing films to end the night, it's good to send the crowd home happy.) I was actually not that excited to see it. I have seen it so many times (including just last March at Cinequest, with Dennis James rocking the might Wurlitzer at the California Theatre in San Jose.) Plus it wasn't going to be on 35 mm film, but a 2K (not even 4K) DCP (Digital Cinema Package.) And I have to admit the first few seconds of title cards I was annoyed it was DCP. And then I heard the rest of the audience reacting. There were so many people seeing it for the first time. And what a glorious venue for that. Hoots of laughter, gasps of fright at Lloyd's death-defying climb up the building. I remembered a few things. First, this movie still works. No matter how many times I see it it's still hilarious and I'm still thrilled to the point of trembling at the famous climb. Second, nobody around today saw the original premiere in 1923--everybody has a first time seeing it and I shouldn't look down on anyone who hadn't seen it before. In fact, if anything I should envy them, getting the chance to discover it for the first time. And I would, if I wasn't too busy enjoying it like it was my first time, too.

And it was a premiere of a sort, it was the first time the Mont Alto Orchestra's score was played for an audience. And they were amazing!

The whole darn festival was amazing!

I'm so exhausted...and now time to get to work.

Total Running Time: 425 minutes
My Total Minutes: 334,798

Jason goes to SilentFest--Day 3

A huge marathon Saturday, with 6 shows and very quick turnarounds between them all.

First up a was a program on the life and art of Winsor McCay, particularly his animated films. Partially a lecture on the man and his amazing pioneering animation work (although he would brag about inventing animated film, he didn't quite do that, but he did quite a lot in terms of meticulous attention to detail of movement.) The lecture and slideshow were  by John Canemaker (author of this amazing book) and it segued easily into 4 of McCay's surviving films.

LITTLE NEMO IN SLUMBERLAND (1911): The character of Little Nemo, based on Winsor McCay's son Robert, was already a huge hit in the comics before McCay made this his first experiment in animation. I had seen the animation before, but this time it was framed with live action showing Winsor bragging how he could bring Little Nemo to life in 4,000 hand-drawn frames, his colleagues at the studio betting he can't, and him showing them wrong. Pretty cool.

HOW A MOSQUITO OPERATES (1912): Excellent motion in this humorous piece about a mosquito bothering a sleeping man, gradually sucking more and more blood until she pops (yeah, it's not in the movie, but only the female mosquito sucks blood.)

GERTIE THE DINOSAUR (1914): This is the classic, and I had seen it before as the vaudeville act where a dinosaur trainer (originally Winsor McCay himself played the role on stage) with a bullwhip coaxes Gertie out, trains her, then ducks behind the screen only to appear in the movie and ride off on Gertie. This time John Canemaker explained the premise and the whole audience played the role of coaxing Gertie into action. Very fun.

SINKING OF THE LUSITANIA (1918): And finally a mature, ahead-of-its time animation of a tragedy. The sinking of the Lusitania was the 9/11 of its time. There were no cameras, so McCay worked with the reporter who collected survivors' accounts and recreated in stunning detail the incident. Unfortunately, it was too unsettling for people of the time (I can understand a cartoon of 9/11 would still be shocking now) but looking back it was some amazing work.

All the films were brilliantly accompanied by Stephen Horne. 

THE HALF-BREED (1916): Next up was an early Douglas Fairbanks feature, directed by Alan Dwan (who directed Fairbanks in many films, most famously ROBIN HOOD.) Fairbanks plays the orphaned son of a Native American woman and  a white man who left her alone and pregnant. When he was just an infant, his mother left him with a kindly naturist to raise as a white man. Cut to him as an adult acting very Indian-like, first seen from behind in nothing but a loincloth (which I'm sure pleased the members of the audience who like that sort of thing.) After his caregiver passes away, he has to try to get along in the white man's racist world. Things do not go well. He catches the eye of the pastor's daughter (who has caught the eye of practically every man in town) and that just leads to gossip, slander, attempted murder, the forest burned down, etc. What it doesn't have is Fairbanks being his usual effervescent, charismatic self. Instead he plays his role as a stoic Indian with arms crossed. As a result, it was kind of a box office failure. But for my money, I like seeing him try something new. 

Speaking of something new, Günter Buchwald accompanied on the Wurlitzer organ and violin (yes, he played both, he's giving Stephen a run for his money as the resident one-man-band of the festival) and he did a great job. 

But that does bring me to a sensitive subject. This was the first SF Silent Film Fest screening I've seen where someone other than Dennis James played the Wurlitzer. I love Dennis James and I've heard various stories/rumors/theories about why he's not playing in this festival. And I won't repeat them here because that's not what this blog is about. But I'll just say that I hope they patch up their differences and Dennis is back soon.

By the way, for all you local Douglas Fairbanks fans out there, next weekend the Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum will be playing THE BLACK PIRATE (1926.) I don't know if it will be the Technicolor version or the black and white print, but either way it's a heck of a good swashbuckler.

LEGONG: DANCE OF THE VIRGINS (1935): Speaking of Technicolor, this was a real treat. A simple love triangle story (there have been a lot of those this festival) set in Bali. Shot in Bali (hence silent well after the talkie change-over--they didn't want to bring all the sound equipment.) Using all real natives as actors and actresses. In their native dress. Which means a whole lot of exposed titties! Can I take a moment and say I don't think I'll ever get tired of looking at boobs. They are two of my favorite things. Even if they're not displayed for erotic purposes, they are simply aesthetically wonderful features. And the lead actress had some very nice ones. Anyway, back to the story. It opens with some text bemoaning the fate of any maiden of Bali who falls in love, for if her love isn't requited the Gods will be angry and sorrow will follow her. So that, of course, is exactly what happens. Anyway, back to the boobies. This restoration was pieced together from three heavily edited prints--an American one, British one, and Canadian one. Interestingly, they were each edited differently. The British one took out all the violence, while the American one took out all the nudity...which must have made it about a 10 minute short. I just want to lodge a formal complaint with the Universe on behalf of America--how come we get the violence but not the titties!?

Seriously, this was actually a beautiful film that provides a brilliant Technicolor look at Bali of nearly 80 years ago. And it was magnificently accompanied by The Club Foot Orchestra and Gamelan Sekar Jaya (a local group of traditional Balinese musicians,) making possibly the largest accompanying group in the history of the SF Silent Film Festival (at least their festival proper, other events like NAPOLEON had full orchestras)

GRIBICHE (196): And then an odd piece of social class drama from France. Gribiche is a nice kid, son of a war widow. Such a nice, polite boy that when he sees a high-class woman drop her purse in a store, he picks it up, chases her to her car, and returns it to her. Even refuses a reward. Later, the woman tracks him down and volunteers to adopt him so he can get a good education. Not that his real mother was doing a bad job, but he overheard her talking to her boyfriend about how he complicates plans for them to get married. So he goes off and lives with this woman, who makes him her showcase specimen of the poor unfortunate whom she saved (how her story of meeting him changes is one of the film's funniest moments.) Of course, he's miserable, and her whole effort to rescue him fails. Cute kid, and well shot, but the story was kind of blah. I don't know, it just really didn't do it for me. 

But at least the Mont Alto Orchestra was brilliant as always. 

THE HOUSE ON TRUBNAYA SQUARE (1928): Now you want to talk about oddities, how about a Soviet comedy? Okay, I know intellectually they must have had comedies, but I always think of Soviet cinema as serious, ponderously intellectual work. Director Boris Barnet is sometimes called the father of Soviet cinematic comedy, and he employs a plethora of clever camera moves in telling the funny story of a simple country girl who goes to Moscow with her pet duck, gets work as a maid in a housing project, and works her freakin' ass off. I thought there were a lot of great set pieces and hilarious sequences (the bit near the beginning where she's asking for directions all over Moscow is awesome) but the story doesn't quite fit together. Or at least, I had trouble following what the heck was going on. Maybe it's just a different time and different place, but I was confused. Especially with the major question I heard everyone asking afterwards--what the heck happened to the duck?

Stephen Horne accompanied on the piano, accordion, and I don't know what else. 

THE JOYLESS STREET (1925): And finally, we ended the night with the movie that put G. W. Pabst on the map. So you know it's gonna be dark and depressing. In fact, it shocked post WWI audiences with it's stark depictions of the struggles of the poor and opulence of the rich. While the lecherous butcher trades meat for sex, the rich plot to rig the price of coal to make millions. Caught in the middle, a bank clerk desperately trying to win his way into rich society gets framed for murder. Poor women have to sell themselves as "showgirls" at a club...who are we kidding, they become prostitutes. And two American Red Cross volunteers are shocked by it all. Lots of powerful scenes, but overall the movie was too damn long. At two and a half hours, as the last movie of the night, when I had been watching movies since 10:00 am...it was just too much. Especially to end the night with something so depressing. Maybe if it was two and a half hours of laughs...

Anyway, The Matti Bye Ensemble--the go to guys for the dark and serious films--did a fantastic job as always. 

And that was the big Saturday at the Silent Film Fest. One more day, 5 more shows to go!

Total Running Time: 518 minutes
My Total Minutes: 334,373

Jason goes to SilentFest--Day 2

I had a long day of work on Friday, but I finally got out in time to make it to the 7:00 show. Now I'm at silent films all weekend. No more thinking about work until Monday...then it'll be a hellacious work week, just in time for Jewfest. But anyway, on to the movies!

THE PATSY (1928): The first movie I saw was a delightful comedy that takes me back to my first experience at the SF Silent Film Festival back in 2008. Let's see what I wrote then (scroll down to the bottom, I put the entire festival in one post):

And the final feature, the comedy "The Patsy" starring Marion Davies and directed by King Vidor. Marion is Patricia Harrington, the little sister of the Harrington family, ruled by a domineering mother (Marie Dressler, also awesome) who clearly prefers her big sister Grace. Pat is more of a daddy's girl, problem is daddy can't stand up to ma. Pat has eyes for Grace's boyfriend, who doesn't even know she exists. Grace is a big flirt and starts canoodling with the local rich playboy, leaving her former beau in the dust. Eventually he actually figures out that Pat is interested, but not before wacky hijinx and uncomfortable mix-ups. And loads of tom-foolery by Davies, including a famous scene of her impersonating other famous female screen legends of the time, that had the house roaring with laughter. An excellent way to end the festival on a high note.

Well, that's a pretty good recapping of the plot (oh yeah, should've come with a SPOILER ALERT!) But it doesn't capture how absolutely hilarious it is. Especially given that Marion Davies is mostly known as Mrs. William Randolph Hearst, unfairly maligned by proxy in CITIZEN KANE, and mostly used in period dramas by Hearst. In fact, she was freakin' hilarious.

And complementing her comedic talents (and those of her co-stars and director King Vidor) was the excellent Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra, with a snappy, funny, upbeat score that perfectly matched the tone of the movie.

THE GOLDEN CLOWN (KLOVNEN) (1926): Then we ended the night switching from comedy to tragedy in this Danish production, introduced by Czar of Noir Eddie Muller. Gösta Ekman stars as the clown, and was a famous Swedish actor and singer of the time. Oddly, his singing talents play a major role in this silent film. He plays a clown for a small, travelling country theater. He was found as a baby and the note with him was in English so they decided his name was Joe Higgins. He's sweet on the circus princess Daisy, and when he's discovered by a famous Parisian and becomes a star, he finally has the money to marry her. Things look to be great (and for the first 45 minutes or so it looked like it might be a feel-good story about nice circus folk finding the good life.) But instead he and his wife get into a love triangle with a fashion editor who woos her while he's too busy working on his act. She falls for the cad, he falls to drinking, and everyone's life gets destroyed. A real downer of a story, but a magnificently told story (featuring a spectacularly staged "Tower of Clowns" by Danish director A. W. Sandberg.

And the careful balance of circus antics and tragic noir melodrama was accompanied brilliantly by The Matti Bye Ensemble.

Now time for a little rest, I've got 6 shows to see tomorrow, starting with Winsor McKay at 10:00 am.

Total Running Time: 206 minutes
My Total Minutes: 333,855

Jason goes to Silentfest--Closing Night

Hard to believe it's already over. It was a weekend of total, exhausting immersion, now I'm starting to climb back into real life. But first, a full program Sunday:

We start out with Amazing Tales from the Archives II: Kevin Brownlow tells the backstory to the Cinema Event of a Lifetime (or at least next spring)--the restoration of NAPOLEON (I have my tickets, do you?). He spins a truly amazing life story of love of this one movie, searching for every copy available, becoming persona non grata at the Cinematheque, becoming good friends with Abel Gance, and finally prevailing. And it all culminates in the only 4 shows in North America currently scheduled--and they're all in Oakland. Lucky, lucky us!

Now on to the movies, starting with the orphan film TRIBUNE-AMERICAN DREAM PICTURE (1924), which I saw two years ago back in Niles. Here's what I wrote then:

A contest by the Oakland Tribune had people write in with their strange dreams for a chance at a cash prize and having their dream turned into a movie. Mabel Nicholson had a strange dream where she went on a picnic to Marin with her husband and baby. But in San Francisco, they realize the baby basket is empty so they take the ferry back to Oakland (assuming he's still in the car). He's not just in the car, he's driving away.

Damn, I was really bad at just giving away the whole film back then. Here's what I'd say today:

This film comes from a contest by the Oakland Tribune wherein people would write in stories of their strange dream for the chance to win money and have their dream turned into a movie. Mabel Nicholson won with this funny dream about a trip from Oakland to San Francisco and back, with a frantic search for her missing baby!

There, much better.

Anyway, that was the lead-in to the feature, SHOES (1916): A social issue drama by the amazing Lois Weber, America's first big female film director, and one of the best of either gender in any time. Although this film is strident and passionate in its social stance, its greatness comes from the humanity and drama of the characters and the story. Mary MacLaren stars as Eva Meyer, a poor shopgirl supporting her mother, siblings, and ne'er-do-well father on her measly wages. A cabaret singer with clearly impure intentions hangs around the shop, trying to get girls to come top the nightclub and see him. Eva resists, like a good moral woman (or like anyone who doesn't want a life of sexual servitude just to support herself). But her shoes are falling apart, and have been resoled so often they can't take another one. She treads through soaking rainstorms, and endures constant delays in her mother's promise to buy her shoes and her father's promise to get a job. Finally, she has to make a fateful and heartbreaking choice. As I said, the moralizing gets a bit thick, but it's still anchored by excellent drama and a performance that tugs the sympathies effortlessly. And it's a valuable window into the social issues of the day (not that they aren't still relevant in this day).

And of course, Dennis James was awesome on the mighty Wurlitzer organ.

And then we got the Wild and Weird shorts program with the amazing Alloy Orchestra. Their DVD is available from Flicker Alley, and features even more than these shorts.
DREAMS OF A RAREBIT FIEND (1906): Edwin S. Porter (Edison's director, and maker of THE GREAT TRAIN ROBBERY) creates this live-action special effects piece based on the comic strip by Winsor McKay. Rarebit being a Welsh melted cheese dish, and the "rarebit fiend" being a man who loves it, even though it always gives him strange dreams (to the consternation of his wife).
RED SPECTRE (1907): a Pathé film, in the vein of Méliès, about a demonic magician who wraps up two young women in cloth and makes them disappear in a puff of smoke. But the good spirit comes and brings them back.
THE ACROBATIC FLY (1910): If you get past the animal cruelty of it, these extreme close-up shots of flies glued down by their wings and turning objects (e.g., tiny barbells) over with their feet is really, really cool.
THE THIEVING HAND (1908): A funny piece about a disembodied, kleptomaniac arm and the armless guy who gets it as a prosthetic. He's a good guy, it's just his hand that's evil. It only pre-visioned IDLE HANDS by 91 years.
PRINCESS NICOTINE (1909): The story of the two-lensed camera invented to make this short (shooting simultaneously 180 degrees apart, and superimposing the images) is as fascinating as the result. A smoker interacts with the tiny fairy that lives in his cigar box (and sometimes in a flower).
ARTHÈME SWALLOWS HIS CLARINET (1912): A pretty funny film that's exactly what it's about. Arthème is annoying everyone with his clarinet, and so some jokers drop a piano on him. He's fine, except that his clarinet is jammed into his mouth with the mouthpiece sticking out the back of his head. Yikes!
CAMERAMAN'S REVENGE (1912): An awesome story of romantic trysts, cheating spouses, and public humiliation. Oh yeah, and it's done entirely with stop-motion animated insects. Probably my favorite of the set.
DREAMS OF A RAREBIT FIEND: THE PET (1921): Another rarebit fiend dream, this one actually animated by Winsor McKay himself (by hand, the whole thing. This didn't use cel animation). The fiend dreams that his wife brought home a cute little pet, that starts eating everything until he's as big as the entire city.
FILMSTUDIE (1926): A beautiful, bizarre piece of pure dadaism. If I knew what it was about, that would miss the point. But there sure are a lot of eyes.
LIFE AND DEATH OF 9413, A HOLLYWOOD EXTRA (1928): A humorously dark story of a man dreaming of being a star, but is instead stamped with the number 9413 and is used as an extra until he dies.

Between every short were lantern slides of humorous messages (e.g., "remove your hat" or "the show is half over.") and of course the Alloy Orchestra were great doing new scores (not the ones you'll get on the DVD). After I got my DVD signed by the Alloy Orchestra and David Shepard of Flicker Alley.

The next show started with the final orphan, MADISON NEWS REEL (1932): A series of extremely brief news clips that made me wonder if this was a real newsreel, or some parody. Very odd.

And then we had our Soviet program. The Soviets did some amazing silent film work, and this pair showcased opposite extremes. First CHESS FEVER (1925) was hilarious, slapstick comedy about chess. There's a major tournament, and everyone is watching with great interest, even the kids. Meanwhile at home a man is suffering from Chess Fever, playing a game against himself (Pixar used this gag as the basis of GERI'S GAME some 72 years later). Well, he's so wrapped up in his game he forgets his date with his fiance. She loves him with all her heart, but is afraid he only loves chess. And she might be right. After all he has a few dozen chess books and mini chess sets on him at all times. When he sees a chess-patterned tile floor he walks across it in 2x1 steps (like a knight), etc. Thing is, everyone else loves chess, too. But for her, even if she has thrown him out, he can quit. Very funny.

And the other side of the spectrum is THE NAIL IN THE BOOT (1931): Made as a military film, it was censored by the Soviets and it was over eight years before Mikhail Kalatozov made another film. It was, in fact, criticized that “When making THE NAIL Kalatozov did not apply the revolutionary method of dialectical materialism to his theme, but proceeded from formalistic aestheticism.” More pedestrian criticism was that the plot confused the audience, but I don't really find that credible.

The film was made to promote the message that slipshod work is a danger to the homeland (indeed, the alternate title was THE HOMELAND IS IN DANGER), and tells the story of a soldier dispatched to march to headquarters and call for aid for an armored train under siege. On the way, he's injured by a nail sticking out of the sole of his boot, and doesn't make it in time. The second half is an absolutely fascinating courtroom inquisition where although he's found guilty on his own, he makes an impassioned and convincing plea that the guilt is shared with the workers in the factory who manufactured such a faulty boot.

Stephen Horne, of course, was masterful at both ends of the emotional spectrum.

And finally, we ended the festival with HE WHO GETS SLAPPED (1924): The incomparable Lon Chaney stars as Paul Beaumont, a young scientist working with the support of his friend, Baron Regnard (Marc McDermott). But on the day of his thesis, the Baron double-crosses him and presents Beaumont's work as his own. He objects, the baron calls him crazy and slaps him, eliciting howls of laughter from the normally stone-faced assembly of professors. Humiliated, he returns to the baron's estate to find his bride has left him for the baron. So he leaves the bitter life of scientific pursuits and joins the circus, becoming a highly celebrated clown. He calls himself HE, and his act involves all the other clowns slapping him--an act that has the audience in stitches. He finds his new life, and maybe even a new love in Consuelo (Norma Shearer), the bareback rider and daughter of Count Mancini (who has fallen on hard times). But Consuelo loves her costar Bezano (John Gilbert). And the baron reappears with eyes for Consuelo--a development that Count Mancini finds most favorable. But HE won't let that happen, and will do whatever it takes. For HE who laughs last, laughs best.

What a great way to end the festival. And of course, the Matti Bye Ensemble did an amazing job ending the festival on just the right note. And might I add that I was impressed with the cacophony of their circus scenes. Matti Bye is usually more reserved, letting the silence speak more. But they knew, of course, the right tone for a circus.

By the way, if you want to see more of Mattie Bye, they're playing with Jilly Tracy tomorrow (Tuesday) night at Disco Volante in Oakland.

Total Running Time: 296 minutes
My Total Minutes: 243,574

Jason goes to Silentfest--Day 3

This is the big, packed Saturday of the festival

But first, a quick shout-out to my new breakfast spot of the festival--Orphan Andy's. All the food is delicious, the staff is friendly and hilarious. And the pancakes are soooo freakin' fluffy!

Anyway, on to the shows.

First up was a kids (and kids of all ages) program of Walt Disney's LAUGH-O-GRAMS. Before he made it big in Los Angeles, he was working in Kansas City making these cartoons out of a garage. So here we go, all of them were pretty hilarious.

NEWMAN LAUGH-O-GRAMS (1921): This was a reel he made to pitch the idea of Laugh-o-grams to local exhibitor Newman to stick into the newsreels. Some funny lightning sketches, where his hands draw advertising sketches, and then some local topical humor mocking the corruption of the streets and the police force in Kansas City.
THE FOUR MUSICIANS OF BREMEN (1922): A quartet of animals get thrown out of every venue they play, presumably for sucking. They're starving so they try to lure fish with music, but the fish are just too slippery.
CINDERELLA (1922): Pretty cool seeing the fairy godmother turning Cinderella into a flapper girl. Awesome, that was probably my favorite part of the whole series.
GOLDIE LOCKS AND THE THREE BEARS (1922): A rediscovered classic that was hiding in plain site. Once Disney became big, his early laugh-o-grams were re-released by opportunistic distributors, but the names were changed. This one was renamed THE PEROXIDE KID, and was just recently rediscovered as the supposedly lost film.
PUSS IN BOOTS (1922): The boy is trying to get the princess, and his pet cat is trying to get the royal cat, too. So they hatch a mutually beneficial plot that depends on the cat wearing boots.
JACK THE GIANT KILLER (1922): Another renamed, supposedly lost film, this one THE KO KID. Pretty funny the story Jack tells about the giants he defeated.
ALICE'S WONDERLAND (1923): Not technically a laugh-o-gram, but the precursor to Walt's Alice films. Virginia Davis, a 4 year old charmer, walks into the laugh-o-gram studios to see how cartoons are made. After witnessing the magic of Disney and his team, she goes home and dreams herself in cartoon-land. Adorable.

Most of the films were accompanied by Donald Sosin on piano, with percussionist assisting and two amazingly talented kids playing piano for Bremen and Jack the Giant Killer.

Next up was the panel discussion Variations on a Theme: Musicians on the Craft of Composing and Performing for Silent Film. But first the orphan film MUSIC FOR THE SILENT NEWSREELS (1930): Quite a departure for the festival, this was a talkie. But still appropriate. A man at a piano explains the art of Movietone music accompanying the newsreels.

And then moderator Jill Tracy started the event with 4 different interpretations of the same scene--Louise Dresser walking down the street with her Goose, a brief scene from THE GOOSE WOMAN. Donald Sosin played it upbeat. Stephen Horne played it as a dramatic chase. Dennis James played a sorrowful score on the organ. And finally the Alloy Orchestra played it as a weird surreal slapstick scene. Each one worked, and it was a pretty efficient demonstration of how music changes a scene.

And then the conversation began. Like last year, the big contentious issue is new compositions vs. Dennis James' purist historical sentiment that if it's available he'll play the original score and anything else is a departure from that. It's not a question that playing the original score or composing a new score is a stylistic choice. They aren't on the same level--really it should be the choice to play the original score or many different stylistic choices of departure from that. Dennis made the analogy of graffiti. People will talk about the "art" of graffiti, and oftentimes that is completely legitimate art. But they're no longer talking about the building. In the same way (if I understood his analogy correctly), a new score when the original is available isn't an enhancement to the filmmaker's vision--it's a violation and departure from the original vision, and that's true no matter how artistic that is. If you want new silent film scores so badly, why don't you just make new silent films? (To which I answer, I'd love to see new silent films made, and played at this festival. After all it's a silent film festival, not an antique film festival)

The counterpoint is essentially that doing whatever you want with the score is valid, so long as it complements instead of distracting from the film. In honesty, that's my opinion, and I still count myself as one of Dennis James' biggest fans. (By the way, every other Friday at the Stanford Theatre this summer you can see him accompanying Buster Keaton double features.)

It wasn't too surprising to see the discussion between James and Ken Winokur from Alloy Orchestra get heated. That happened last year, too, but was even more tense this year. What was surprising to see Dennis James and Giovanni Spinelli get along so well. Spinelli, of course, did the electric guitar soundtrack to SUNRISE on Thursday, and I don't even have to ask James to know he hated it. But Spinelli made several good points:

1. He knew when he was commissioned to do this score (and solo electric guitar was not his idea, it came from a very well respected archivist) that it would be controversial. In his words, perhaps less of a SUNRISE to his career and more of a HE WHO GETS SLAPPED.
2. His score does not destroy the original score. In that way the graffiti analogy is wrong--graffiti is difficult to remove. His score has existed once so far, and may never be played again. It's incredibly easy to forget it and see SUNRISE with the original score.
3. Maybe he brought some new young people in with the promise of the score, and they got exposed to SUNRISE and now want to see it with the original score as well. In that way

Spinelli nailed it. And by giving James respect, he got respect back. You could've made millions betting on Dennis James + Giovanni Spinelli as the love connection of the festival.

Now more movies, starting with the orphan THE TRIBAL LAW (1912): Really just a fragment of a film. Pretty action packed, I wish the rest existed.

Then we moved to Sweden for THE BLIZZARD (1923): Also known as the Gunnar Hedes Saga, it's a wild romantic melodrama. Growing up, little Gunnar was intrigued by the painting of his grandfather. A poor violinist, he made a fortune herding reindeer and that's how they have the grand estate they do today. But that estate is in trouble, so grown up Gunnar goes herding reindeer to raise money just like his grandfather did. But things go horribly wrong, and he's dragged for miles by a reindeer (in a really impressive, kinda traumatic scene). And although they didn't have the term at the time, he's got a bad case of post traumatic stress disorder. Every animal looks like a reindeer and scares the hell out of him (even cats and dogs). He doesn't even recognize his mother. But maybe true love, and violin music, will bring him back. Ultimately it was the perfect thing to play after the Variations on a Theme program, since it was all about the power of music to move you.

And speaking of music moving you, The Matti Bye Ensemble (quickly becoming my favorite accompanists of the festival) absolutely blew me away with their score again.

Next up was THE GOOSE WOMAN (1925), which I realized a few minutes in I had scene before at Niles. Here's what I said at the time:

Louise Dresser stars as Marie de Nardi aka Mary Holmes aka The Goose Woman. In her youth, she was a famous and beloved opera singer. However, when her son was born she lost her voice. Missing the spotlight, she drowns her sorrows in alcohol, which makes her a pretty terrible mother to her now grown son (that and she doesn't hide the fact that she blames him for destroying her fame). But she sees an opportunity to get back in the spotlight when a murder occurs near her home and the police and the news converge on the neighborhood. She decides to become an important witness, but it turns out her story ends up implicating her son. Eventually (finally) maternal instincts do take over. A pretty wild melodrama.

Well, that's all true. But there's something missing in that. Like the comedy of the reporters, cops, and prosecutor. Or her son's love interest and how the victim was after the same woman. Or how great Stephen Horne's accompaniment was. Okay, that last one is new to this experience, and it was great.

The next show started with the orphan film CHUMMING WITH CHIPMUNKS (1921): Adorable footage of training chipmunks to take nuts from a string. Not much plot, but cute as a pile of cute cuties dipped in cuteness (shut up, it's late at night!)

And then the feature MR. FIX-IT (1918): Douglas Fairbanks! Fairbanks is my homie! And this is one from his pre-swashbuckling career in comedy. He plays Remington, a free-spirited university student in England. His roommate Reginald is American, but his family sent him to England because America is too democratic. Now he has a girlfriend whom he intends to marry, but his parents call him home to get married to the girl they found for him. But seeing as they haven't seen him in 15 years, Remington has a plan to fix it. He'll pretend to be Reginald and go to America, and using his powerful charisma he'll fix everything. And that's what I love about Douglas Fairbanks--he's always confident, in control, charming and athletic as hell. I love they throw in random stunts just to show off his agility (somersault into a bathtub? Jumping down a stairwell?) I love that he fixes not just his roommates dilemma, he fixes everyone's romantic dilemmas, saves a family of children, and pulls the giant stick out of Reginald's family's collective ass. He can fix anything but his own romantic life.

As if that wasn't great enough, Dennis James rocked the Mighty Wurlitzer the whole time.

And finally, the last show of the night, starting with Czar of Noir Eddie Mueller's introduction. He had a lot to say about the star of the last film, Marlene Dietrich. But I'll just leave it at the new word he learned and taught us all--'intrigante.' Meaning one (with the e at the end, specifically a woman) who intrigues. As opposed to a femme fatale who knowingly and intentionally uses her sexuality to destroy men, an intrigante is alluring whether she wants to be or not. And that's Marlene Dietrich...or would be, if her allure wasn't pretty intentional her whole life.
She is, after all, THE WOMAN MEN YEARN FOR (1929): Henry LeBlanc just got married. Not for love, for strategic money interests (i.e., to avoid family bankruptcy). On the train to their honeymoon, he catches a glimpse of Stascha (Dietrich) through a window. She's with an older male companion, but has a look of longing that intrigues Henry. And so he pursues her, even leaving his bride and entering a world of unknown danger. Excellent precursor to noir--hell, it is silent noir. And who really cares what the plot is as long as Marlene Dietrich is the object of men's desires. Just beautiful.

And beautiful as well was the score by The Mont Alto Motion Picture Ochestra.

And that was Saturday. I entered the Castro Theater at about 9:30 in the morning, and didn't leave until 10:30 at night. Not even briefly stepping outside. Instead I was in the mezzanine shopping. And if you're around for the final day of the festival, you should be in the mezzanine shopping, too!

Total Running Time: 378 minutes
My Total Minutes: 243,278

Jason goes to Silentfest--Day 2

For the first time ever, I took a day off to see everything on Friday. So this will actually be my first time seeing absolutely everything at SFSFF (as if it wasn't exhausting enough already). Here we go with Friday.

But first, some additional thoughts on SUNRISE with the electric guitar score. It's been the talk of the festival today, in a heated, controversial way. And I'll go on record as saying I love that it's so controversial. What I'm not so enamored with is I've been held up as an example of someone who liked that score, and I've been drawn to defend it. I thought I gave a pretty conflicted, complex account of my reaction (which was, itself, conflicted and complex). But because I said I liked my new interpretation that it's a succubus story, I've been drawn in as the "pro" side of the debate. So let me be very clear. Even without having actually heard the original score, if I had to choose between the original score and Spinelli's electric guitar score, I'd choose the original. But more importantly, that's a false choice! The existence of this score doesn't overwrite the original score and blot it from history. If actually given that choice, I'd prefer to watch SUNRISE twice back to back, once with each score, so I can accurately judge them. But I will say it's a personal tragedy that I did not hear the original score first. I have that DVD ordered now.

Okay, on to Friday's programs.

First up, Amazing Tales From the Archives, Program I: The Archivist as Detective. A series of archivists presented some of their work in entertaining slide shows with some short movie clips (with accompaniment by the inimitable Stephen Horne). UCLA Film and Television archivist Jan-Christopher Horak, George Eastman House's Anthony L'Abbate and The Academy Film Archive's Melissa Levesque all spoke. We learned about tracking down typeface to recreate period accurate intertitles. We got a crash course in film identification--from reading edge codes to recognizing company logos to the vagaries of changing street light styles in New York City. And we learned of the impressive number of films from Lobster Films collection that the Academy has identified...and how they did it...and how many are still unidentified. Very cool.

Before I get to the next program, I forgot to mention the "orphaned film" that played before SUNRISE last night. Before several films the festival is playing orphaned films, short films or clips where the copyright has expired or the owner is unknown. Before SUNRISE we saw a 3 minute clip of F. W. Murnau and George O'brien getting in an airplane, leaving Paris for Berlin (from 1927).

Before the next program, there were two very short films:

MRS HARDING, "CAMERAMAN?" (1922), and COOLIDGE TRAPSHOOTING (1928), both of which are exactly what they sound like.

And then the feature, HUCKLEBERRY FINN (1920): A fairly faithful retelling of Mark Twain's famous story, made just a decade after his death. In fact, it's framed with an actor playing Mark Twain coming up with the idea and writing "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." Great, naturalistic acting, especially by star Lewis Sargent as Huck. It's also nice to see an integrated cast, with George Reed as Jim in a time when black roles were often played by white actors in blackface. The faithfulness of the script is only betrayed at the end, when a happier Hollywood ending is tacked on. But you know what, it's still a heck of a lot of fun. Oh yeah, and the Duke and the King were excellent, too.

Donald Sosin, as always, did a fantastic job on the piano.

The next program started with another orphan film, ST. LOUIS TO CHICAGO AIRMAIL (1926), which is notable for the pilot, a then unknown Charles Lindbergh.

Then the feature, I WAS BORN, BUT… (1932): Ozu's adorable story of Japanese children. A family has moved into town, and the two brothers are the target of bullies. What unfolds is not so much a linear story as a slice of life movie. It touches on bullying, brotherhood, school, social status, and fatherhood. In fact, it does more than touch on it, it delves deeply into all of those subjects and more with a careful eye and affection for his characters (even the dog).

Stephen Horne accompanied, and for my money there's no one better if you want both flute and piano music from one guy.

Next up is my hit of the festival so far, THE GREAT WHITE SILENCE (1924): A documentary account of Captain Robert F. Scott's fateful expedition to the south pole in 1911-1912. Shot by the expedition's official photographer/cinematographer Herbert Ponting. Knowing the fateful end of that trip takes some of the suspense away, but it was still a total delight (and there was still some surprise in the very end). What's really interesting is that in the 106 minute running time, only about the last 30 minutes is spent on the race to the pole. Before that, they spent and entire winter and spring on the coast of Antarctica. But even before then we see them load the Terra Nova, steam around icebergs, break through an ice floe, and finally reach the continent. And then we get the penguins, and the seals. Lots of absolutely adorable wildlife footage. The scenes of penguins are cool, but the scenes of seals cutting the ice with their teeth to climb out of the water are totally worth the price of admission alone. And there are scenes of play, like dancing on the ship and a football (soccer) game on the ice. When the expedition actually takes off for the south pole there's a distinct change in tone. The hardships are intense, and when their ponies meet their "predestined fate" they're left hauling the sledges by themselves. Of course, they make the south pole, only to see Amundsen's Norwegian flag already planted. And on the trip back, they succumb to exhaustion and the elements. What I didn't know was they travelled 800 miles in, turned back and made it about halfway back and perished in a blizzard a scant 11 miles from the supply depot that would have saved them. Amazing movie, very moving, and absolutely beautiful cinematography.

Matti Bye Ensemble did a magnificent job accompanying the film. In fact, I'd be inclined to say their soundtrack is a huge part of making this my favorite film of the festival so far.

And finally, the last program started with the orphan ORIGIN OF BEETHOVEN'S "MOONLIGHT SONATA" (1909): Edison's recreation (complete with a cheesy backdrop of a painted Vienna street) of the story behind Beethoven's composition. That he did it for a blind friend, to let her see the beauty of the moonlight. Sweet, and Beethoven was cool, but as I mentioned the sets were pretty cheesy.

And finally, the night ended with IL FUOCO (1915): An Italian story of the fire of love--told in three sections: The Spark, The Blaze, and The Ashes. She's a famous poet, he's an unknown painter. They meet, and there's a spark, but pretty clearly she's in charge. She tells him that his love is like a lamp that burns slowly and faintly, but lasts a long time. But if she breaks the lamp the fire will burn bright and burn out quickly, like her love. But he's game, "Burn me! Burn me!" he implores. And boy does she. Briefly they're happy, and he paints a masterpiece of her reclining, barely clad figure. And then we learn she's not just a poet, she's a Duchess, and the Duke is coming back to town. Affair over. Early in the show, my friend Phil, knowing full well my take on SUNRISE, leaned over to me and said she's the real succubus. At the end, I turned back to him and said, "She's not a succubus, she's just a bitch."

Stephen Horne accompanied, and was excellent always. And in a last minute addition, Jill Tracy provided voice accompaniment as a Siren song. And there's no one better for that.

Total Running Time: 345 minutes
My Total Minutes: 242,900

Jason goes to Silentfest--Day 4

Which would be the first time ever anyone has been to a fourth day of the San Francisco Silent Film Festival. They've expanded, as if they aren't exhausting enough already.

Anyway, I was there bright and early for Amazing Tales from the Archives, a lecture/presentation by Mike Mashon of the Library of Congress (Happy 50th, Mike!) And Annette Melville of the National Film Preservation Foundation. First Mike bummed us out by telling the bad news--less than 25% of silent features survive, mostly due to early studios having no sense of preservation (or no sense, period). Although they all now have better stewardship of their legacy, the only one to have a preservation ethos early on was MGM, due to a direct project by Louis Mayer. Mike talked about various reasons films were destroyed or never saved, and then Annette gave us the good news. Many films survive and new ones are found all the time. Often overseas, at the end of their run when it was cheaper to leave them than to ship them back to the studio (where often the silver nitrate films were melted down to recover the silver). And there's a treasure trove of films currently being restored and repatriated from New Zealand.

And now, more movies. Once again, the next show started with a Georges Méliès short, this time THE PROLIFIC MAGIC EGG (1902). An egg becomes a larger egg, becomes a woman's head, and clones itself many times.

That was the lead-in to THE SHAKEDOWN (1929) starring James Murray and directed by William Wyler (BEN HUR). And, as an extra treat, Wyler's three daughters were there to talk a bit about their dad. Then the movie is a rousing, feel-good story of a con man turned good. Murray comes to town, gets a reputation as a tough guy, and then a travelling prize fighter rolls in taking all comers. The town puts up their hero, and enough people bet on him that when he takes a dive in the second round, the whole group escapes with a bundle. But in the latest town, he meets a little orphaned ragamuffin and a beautiful girl who both steal his heart and make him turn legit. Only problem is, now he can only get the prize money by beating the pro fighter. Good, solid crowd-pleasing fun, and of course excellently aided by Donald Sosin on piano.

Next show started with the most famous Georges Méliès short, A VOYAGE TO THE MOON (1902). Scientists go to the moon, fight moon men, and return. But the great treat in this presentation was the live narration (originally written by Méliès) read by David Shepard. Not coincidentally, David Shepard compiled what is undoubtedly the most complete Méliès DVD collection ever, and they have a supplemental disc out this year. Also, keep an eye out next year for a new preservation of this movie with the original tinting.

Well, that was the lead-in to the strangest movie in the festival, the Russian film THE MAN WITH A MOVIE CAMERA (1929). All I can say with any certainty is this movie featured a man with a movie camera. He runs around and films all sorts of things (especially motion--train, cars, people, etc.) I suppose the rest of the film is things he shot, but really it all plays as a massive hallucination. He plays with camera tricks--fast motion, slow motion, freeze frame, double exposure, etc. Oh, and I haven't seen INCEPTION yet, but there are double-exposure (or mirror exposure) scenes of a city folding in on itself that made me think of scenes in the trailer. Perhaps Chris Nolan was referencing this film? In any case, it was sort of amazing to be there as a 1,000+ crowd at the Castro experienced a shared hallucination. And while the film provided the visual hallucination, The Alloy Orchestra provided the auditory hallucination.

All right, I'm down to the second-to-last show, and again it started with Georges Méliès, this time with THE ECLIPSE: THE COURTSHIP OF THE SUN AND THE MOON. An astronomer gets so excited watching the Sun do the Moon from behind, he falls out of his tower (although that last scene wasn't in the print we saw). Perhaps my favorite Méliès.

And then the feature, THE WOMAN DISPUTED (1928), starring the beautiful Norma Talmadge as a turn-of-the-century prostitute Mary Ann Wagner. But, of course, she has a heart of gold and after a bit of a tense opening incident she catches the eyes of two men--an Austrian soldier Paul (Gilbert Roland) and his Russian soldier friend Nika (Arnold Kent). They get her respectable work, and call on her frequently. Of course, the war interrupts all this, but the real wedge is her engagement to Paul, just as she's shipped off to war, mere minutes before Nika could ask her (as he's also shipped off to war). And when Nika leads the Russian army triumphantly into town, he gives her an indecent proposal to save the lives of the townspeople. Many scenes strain credibility, especially the final hero's welcome, but as a solid melodrama, it succeeds beautifully. And equally beautiful was the accompaniment by Stephen Horne on piano.

And finally we come to the closing film, staring with Georges Méliès and THE KINGDOM OF THE FAIRIES. One of his more epic story films, it's about a princess kidnapped by demons/witches, the king who braves numerous dangers to rescue her (including a bit of action at the bottom of the sea), and the fairy who helps him (mostly by keeping the witch out of the way).

Well, the sea also plays an importan role in L'HEUREUSE MORT (1924), a french film made by Russian immigrants (the title means THE HAPPY DEATH). Nikolas Rimsky plays Theodore Larue, a french playwright who is more often a playwrong. His latest play closes after one performance. In fact, it closes before it's premiere is even finished, as a chorus of jeers brings the curtain down. But his loving wife encourages him to spend some time at the sea to clear his mind and find his genius again. There he meets an old school chum who is now a sea captain and takes him out on his yacht. They set out on a cruise to Denmark despite Larue suffering from terrible seasickness. So terrible, in fact, that he falls overboard and is presumed dead. And his death is the talk of the French theatre scene. Suddenly instead of a hack he's a genius lost in his prime. So great are the accolades that when he returns safe and sound he and his wife conspire to hide the fact so that he can bask in his posthumous fame (and write his posthumous works). He impersonates his brother, who is off in Africa (interesting side note, he marries an African girl and it is not the shock I'd expect from the time. Everyone takes it in stride as if it's nothing unusual, which is petty cool). Well, without giving more away, of course wacky hi-jinx ensue, and it's still hilarious some 86 years (and who knows how many repetitions of the main premise) later. And the Matti Bye Ensemble did another great job with the accompaniment, showing they're equally adept at screwball comedy as the moody atmospherics of HAXAN. Let me be yet another one to thank them for coming and I hope they enjoyed their debut at SFSFF as much as the audience did.

And that's the end of the most exhausting and intense weekend on the always exhausting and intense San Francisco Bay Area film festival calendar.

Total Running Time: 331 minutes
My Total Minutes: 190,097