XXVIII Le Giornate del Cinema Muto The Collegium Papers (unedited) 2009
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The Collegium Papers (unedited) Behind the Bulb: Projecting Silent Film, One Frame at a Time Ȃ Vito Adriaensens .................................... 5 Looking forward, looking back: Memory, methods, and models for the future of silent cinema Ȃ Meredith A. Bak.................................................................................................................................................................. 13 A place for music Ȃ Marco Bellano ............................................................................................................................. 23 Silent Cinema from abroad: how the Giornate experience can be seen from distant eyes Ȃ Lila Foster ..................................................................................................................................................................................... 37 Restoring intertitles or intertitling restorations? Possibilities in the restoration, reconstruction and (re)creation of intertitles in the context of Pordenone Ȃ Sebastian Haller ....................................... 46 What remains of glory? Looking for the stars on the silent screen of Pordenone Ȃ Myriam Juan .... 65 Looking for London: Locating Sherlock Holmes and Beyond Ȃ Karolina Kendall-Bush .......................... 77 Le mythe et le retour Ȃ Ioana Salagean.... ............................................................................................................... 86 The Canon Revisited ȂA chance to meet old friends (or enemies) and to make new ones Ȃ Stefanie Tieste ................................................................................................................................................................................... 100 Detectives and criminals of the silent cinema Ȃ «â .................................................................... 112 Ballets Russes and the Silent Cinema Ȃ Jennifer Zale........................................................................................ 124
Behind the Bulb: Projecting Silent Film, One Frame at a Time Vito Adriaensens The projection of film is an aspect of cinema that has garnered little attention in film studies, yet it fully determines the way in which audiences experience a film. If one thing is certain, it is that the projection of a silent film is not a clear-‐cut task at all, for it engenders difficulties both practical and ethical. Each silent film is rooted in its own specific historical context when it comes to the circumstances of its recording, release and projection, and these factors determine the manner in which we should approach the contemporary projection of a silent film. Or do they? One could argue that, since historical accuracy is virtually unattainable, we might as well adapt silent film projection -‐ and film speed in particular -‐ to our own present day standards. For if we give historical accuracy the benefit of the doubt, might this not stand between the modern viewer and the silent image? These questions were very much alive at the 2009 Giornate del Cinema Muto, where they fueled the fire of many a debate. The projectionist ǲ profession, trade or business. More particularly the title is applied to ambitious, energetic men of recognized ability in both practical projection and in Ǥǳ1 In 1922, author and projectionist F.H. Richardson identified motion picture projectionists as a rare breed of men and women, skilled to breathe life into the silver screen. Projectionists functioned, and function, as important gatekeepers between the filmmakers and the public. Visitors of the Giornate del Cinema Muto are generally a spoiled bunch, because they get to see the best prints, projected under the best possible conditions, by a crack team of projectionists. They have, therefore, also become extra critical when it comes to the screening of silent films, even though
1 Richardson, F.H. ǯ ǣ ȋ
Edition). New York: Chalmers Publishing Company, 1922, p.39.
Ǥǯ film is wholly dependent upon the conditions in which the film is shown. Even though comfortable chairs and a decent size screen go a long way, they are not the only factors that come into the equation. When it comes to watching silent films, our enjoyment of the material can easily be disrupted by factors such as fuzzy projection, a high flicker rate, misframed projection2, sloppy reel changes, inappropriate musical accompaniment and, the scourge of the screen, improper Ǥ ǯ e on rowdy ǡ ǯ Ǥ ǤǤ ǲ Ǥǳ3 Ǯ ǯǡ ǡther they like it or not, are in effect redirecting the picture each time they project it, but also that they were actually compelled to do so by theatre owners. Projectionists were bound to airtight schedules by theatre owners, but the latter did not always want to pay for the necessary preparatory work Ȃ checking the incoming reels for the proper projection speed and the resulting projection time Ȃ so that projection often had to be sped up in order to squeeze all the features into a theatre show. Academy Award winning4 cinematographer and former projectionist Victor Milner remembered that, in the days when he still hand-‐cranked projection, he had direct orders to run 1000 feet in 12 minutes (22 fps)5 ǯ llo, but for an afternoon show the same film would feature Costello crossing the set very slowly, in order to add minutes to the program.6
2 This refers to the slipping of the celluloid passing through the projector, causing one to see a decentered image, but
also to the use of the wrong projection mask, causing the film to be boxed off too much, or not enough, resulting in an improper image ratio. 3 D.W. Griffith as quoted in Richardson, F.H. Ibid., p.214. 4
Milner (1893-‐1972) was nominated an astonishing nine times in his career, but only won the Oscar once, for
Cleopatra (Cecil B. DeMille, 1934). 5 Wonderful conversion tables can be found in Cherchi Usai, Paolo. Silent Cinema: an Introduction. London: British
Film Institute, 2003, pp.170-‐174. 6 ǡ ǤǮ ǯThe American Cinematographer (July 1923), p.6.
Before going into the highly problematic issue of projection speed, however, I would like to introduce the man in charge of one of the most important and underrated aspects of the Giornate del Cinema Muto. The man behind the bulb is chief projectionist and scenographer Mr. Carlo Montanaro.7 When the film cans start to arrive in Pordenone at the dawn of the Giornate, he and his team go to work. Every film that arrives has to be checked to see if its properties (such as format and condition) correspond with the ones given by the archives, and then every can is repacked, labeled and stocked. The preparatory work alone takes a team of six people two to three days, but is highly necessary in order to pull off the screening intensity for a festival such as the Giornate. It being a silent film festival complicates matters, and it is obvious that nothing is left to chance. Each projection has to be monitored closely by someone in the cabin, and because of the type of projectors required for the booth in the Teatro Verdi (those that were used on ships), this has to be done sitting on the floor. The task at hand is not an easy one, but someone has got to do it. For despite their best professional efforts, criticism is never far away. At the 2009 Giornate, one of the more overtly voiced complaints involved the changes between reels, which spectators described to be on the slow side, causing one reel to end rather abruptly. Where reels are normally taped together, however, international guidelines8 regarding the use of archive prints state that the fragile celluloid should be spared as much as possible, and this includes manipulating it in that way. Therefore, the team at the Giornate works with two projectors, but the reel changes still have to be applied manually. This means keeping an eye out for cue marks on the print (the black or white dots in the upper right corner), which are not always visibly there, or can be positioned in the wrong place. Some archive cinemas working two projectors with the reel-‐by-‐ reel change system place a piece of aluminum foil at the end of the reel, which can automatically trigger the start of the next projector through sensors, but this is against the advice of FIAF, and it is therefore not employed at the Giornate. Marking the prints at the end of the reel is something projectionists used to do in case these were missing, but it goes without saying that this is no
7 All information gained by interviewing Mr. Montanaro on 11 th of January 2010. 8 Sætervadet, Torkell. The Advanced Projection Manual: Presenting Classic Films in a Modern Projection Environment.
Oslo & Brussels: The Norwegian Film Institute & FIAF, 2006, p.59.
longer Â supposed Â to Â be Â done Â to Â archive Â prints. Â The Â abruptness Â at Â the Â end Â of Â a Â reel Â can Â also Â be Â attributed Â to Â the Â state Â of Â the Â celluloid. Â Fragile Â prints Â are Â at Â their Â most Â vulnerable Â towards Â the Â end Â of Â a Â reel, Â causing Â them Â to Â snap Â now Â and Â then. Â Those Â who Â thought Â that Â the Â projectionists Â were Â being Â plain Â lazy, Â might Â just Â want Â to Â reconsider Â that Â idea. Â Mr. Â Montanaro Â says Â his Â team Â is Â so Â good Â at Â what Â they Â do, Â that Â the Â Pordenone Â audience Â will Â not Â even Â forgive Â them Â for Â small Â mistakes Â that Â are Â statistically Â inevitable. Â Â Â The Â need Â for Â speed Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â The Â responsibility Â that Â rests Â on Â the Â shoulders Â of Â the Â silent Â film Â projectionist Â is Â doubled Â by Â the Â issue Â of Â film Â speed. Â One Â of Â the Â main Â reasons Â silent Â films Â are Â still Â being Â mocked Â by Â a Â contemporary Â audience, Â is Â because Â of Â the Â idea Â that Â they Â always Â feature Â funny Â men Â and Â women Â walking Â too Â fast. Â ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â‹Â†Â‡Âƒ ÂŠÂƒÂ• Â„Â‡Â‡Â? Â”Â‹Â‰Â‘Â”Â‘Â—Â•ÂŽÂ› Â•Â‡Â– Â‹Â? Â’Â‡Â‘Â’ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÂ• Â?Â‹Â?Â†Â• Â„Â› Â’Â‘Â’Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ” Â–Â‡ÂŽÂ‡Â˜Â‹Â•Â‹Â‘Â?ÇĄ Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠÇĄ Â‹Âˆ Â‹Â– ÂˆÂ‡ÂƒÂ–Â—Â”Â‡Â• silent Â films Â at Â all, Â usually Â shows Â them Â in Â poor Â quality Â and Â at Â sound Â speed, Â meaning Â 24 Â frames Â per Â second, Â or Â faster. Â Silent Â films Â were, Â however, Â said Â to Â be Â shot Â at Â an Â average Â speed Â of Â 16 Â frames Â per Â second, Â though Â it Â was Â more Â complicated Â than Â that. Â Prior Â to Â the Â standardization Â to Â a Â rate Â of Â 24 Â frames Â per Â second Â that Â heralded Â the Â age Â of Â the Â talkies, Â for Â reasons Â of Â sound Â synchronization, Â film Â speed Â was Â a Â different Â story Â altogether. Â Â The Â truth Â is Â that Â there Â was Â no Â standard Â film Â speed Â in Â the Â silent Â era Â and, Â as Â Kevin Â Brownlow Â notes, Â Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• Ç˛Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â‡Â† Â”Â‡Â•Â’Â‘Â?Â•Â‹Â„Â‹ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â› Â‘Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â’Â”Â‘ÂŒÂ‡Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‹Â•Â– Â‹Â? Âƒ Â™ÂƒÂ› Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â‘Â—Â?Â† ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ? Â?Â‡Â˜Â‡Â” Â†Â‹Â†Ç¤Çł 9 Â Silent Â film Â speed Â varied Â from Â scene Â to Â scene, Â as Â cameramen Â not Â only Â hand-Ââ€?cranked Â the Â camera, Â but Â also Â adjusted Â their Â shooting Â speed Â to Â fit Â the Â mood Â of Â a Â particular Â scene. Â Scenes Â that Â featured Â action Â or Â comedy Â were Â often Â under-Ââ€?cranked, Â or Â shot Â at Â a Â lower Â frame Â rate, Â so Â that Â they Â would Â come Â out Â faster Â than Â the Â other Â scenes Â in Â projection. Â This Â was Â done Â to Â add Â more Â pep Â and/or Â humor Â to Â those Â scenes, Â cinematic Â tricks Â to Â make Â the Â action Â seem Â more Â intense Â than Â it Â really Â is. Â Since Â scenes Â were Â shot Â at Â different Â speeds, Â ranging Â anywhere Â between Â 14 Â and Â 24 Â frames Â per Â second Â throughout Â the Â silent Â era, Â this Â had Â to Â be Â taken Â into Â account Â by Â the Â projectionists Â as Â well. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
9 Â Â”Â‘Â™Â?ÂŽÂ‘Â™ÇĄÂ‡Â˜Â‹Â?Ç¤ÇŽÂ‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â– Â‹ÂŽÂ?Â•ÇŁÂŠÂƒÂ–ÂƒÂ•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â’Â‡Â‡Â†ÇŤÇŻÂ‹Â?Sight Â and Â Sound Â (Summer Â 1980), Â pp.164-Ââ€?167. Â Â
Â‘Â”Â?Â‡ÂŽÂŽÂ§Â–Â‡Â”Â˜ÂƒÂ†Â‡Â–Â“Â—Â‹Â–Â‡Â”Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–ÂŽÂ›Â•Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â•Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â?Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂ•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â†ÂƒÂ”Â†Â•Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â–ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•Â’Â‡Â‡Â†Â‹Â•Ç˛ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â?ÂƒÂ”Â‡ for Â projectionists Â anÂ†ÂƒÂ”Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â˜Â‹Â•Â–Â•ÂƒÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡ÇĄÇł10 Â and Â so Â it Â does Â not Â surprise Â this Â writer Â that Â the Â debate Â on Â the Â proper Â projection Â speed Â was Â already Â in Â full Â swing Â by Â the Â early Â 1910s, Â with Â F.H. Â Richardson Â as Â one Â of Â the Â chief Â proponents Â of Â a Â proper Â projection Â speed. Â Silent Â film Â projectors Â were Â equipped Â with Â speed Â control Â devices Â fairly Â quickly, Â so Â that Â the Â speed Â could Â be Â adjusted Â while Â projecting, Â but Â the Â guidelines Â for Â this Â were Â just Â as Â varied Â as Â the Â shooting Â speed. Â Projecting Â under Â 16 Â frames Â per Â second Â is Â not Â recommend Â due Â to Â the Â flicker Â rate Â and Â the Â heat Â exposure Â to Â the Â celluloid, Â especially Â when Â dealing Â with Â nitrate Â film, Â but Â in Â some Â cases Â this Â might Â be Â historically Â justified; Â D.W. Â Griffith Â is Â said Â to Â have Â shot Â some Â of Â his Â films Â under Â 16 Â fps, Â in Â order Â to Â get Â the Â extensive Â content Â in, Â even Â though Â he Â must Â have Â known Â that Â they Â were Â most Â likely Â going Â to Â end Â up Â overspeeded Â in Â projection.11 Â In Â the Â 1920s, Â cameramen Â started Â to Â take Â into Â account Â the Â higher Â projection Â speeds Â at Â the Â theatres Â by Â cranking Â their Â cameras Â at Â higher Â speeds, Â usually Â between Â 20 Â and Â 24 Â fps. Â Strangely Â enough, Â however, Â few Â were Â willing Â to Â admit Â this, Â stating Â that Â they Â adhered Â to Â a Â so-Ââ€?called Â Ç˛Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â†ÂƒÂ”Â†ÇłÂ•Â’Â‡Â‡Â†Â‘ÂˆÍłÍ¸ÂˆÂ’Â•ÇĄÂ‡Â˜Â‡Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÂ–ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â™ÂƒÂ•Â‘Â„Â˜Â‹Â‘Â—Â•ÂŽÂ›Â?Â‘Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂƒÂ•Â‡Ç¤ Â Â Historically Â speaking, Â a Â lot Â of Â films Â Č‚ Â especially Â those Â of Â the Â 1920s Â -Ââ€? Â were Â meant Â to Â be Â shown Â at Â higher Â speeds Â than Â 16 Â fps, Â which Â one Â can Â deduce Â from Â shooting Â scripts, Â musical Â cue Â sheets Â and Â studio Â correspondence. Â The Â extensive Â cue Â sheet Â research Â of Â silent Â film Â historian Â James Â Card Â failed Â to Â turn Â up Â a Â single Â instance Â indicating Â a Â film Â should Â be Â projected Â at Â 16 Â fps.12 Â Card Â quotes Â the Â published Â projection Â speed Â of Â the Â 1916 Â Douglas Â Fairbanks Â vehicle Â The Â Americano, Â directed Â by Â John Â Â?Â‡Â”Â•Â‘Â?ÇĄ ÂƒÂ• Â„Â‡Â‹Â?Â‰ Â„Â‡Â–Â™Â‡Â‡Â? ÍłÍş ÂƒÂ?Â† Í´Í˛ ÂˆÂ’Â•Ç¤ Â—Â•Â–Â‡Â” Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â‘Â?ÇŻÂ• Â†Â‡ÂŽÂ‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–ÂˆÂ—ÂŽÂŽÂ› ÂŠÂ‹ÂŽÂƒÂ”Â‹Â‘Â—Â• Sherlock Â Jr. Â Č‹ÍłÍťÍ´ÍśČŒÇĄÂƒÂ?Â†Â”Â‹Â…ÂŠÂ˜Â‘Â?Â–Â”Â‘ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?ÇŻÂ•Â‡Â’Â‹Â…Â”Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡The Â Merry Â Widow Â (1925) Â Č‚ Â to Â provide Â the Â reader Â with Â a Â marked Â contrast Â in Â genre Â Č‚ Â are Â both Â indicated Â at Â 24 Â fps. Â We Â must Â keep Â in Â mind, Â however, Â that Â if Â one Â were Â to Â project Â the Â latter Â at Â 16 Â fps, Â this Â would Â seriously Â increase Â its Â already Â lengthy Â running Â time, Â most Â likely Â causing Â a Â lot Â of Â viewers Â to Â cringe Â in Â their Â seats. Â At Â the Â 2009 Â Giornate, Â The Â Merry Â Widow Â was Â shown Â at Â 22 Â fps, Â and Â a Â look Â at Â some Â of Â the Â prior Â catalogues Â more Â or Â less Â confirms Â the Â trend Â of Â a Â chronological Â increase Â in Â film Â speed. Â The Â films Â shown Â at Â 16 Â fps Â are Â usually Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 10 Â SĂŚtervadet, Â Torkell. Â Ibid., Â p.66. Â Â
11 Â Â„Â‹Â†Ç¤ÇĄ Â’Ç¤Í¸Íş ĆŹ Â”Â‘Â™Â?ÂŽÂ‘Â™ÇĄ Â‡Â˜Â‹Â?Ç¤ Â„Â‹Â†Ç¤ ÂŠÂ‡ ÂŽÂƒÂ–Â–Â‡Â” Â?Â‘Â–Â‡Â• Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â…Â‡Â”Â–ÂƒÂ‹Â? Â•Â…Â‡Â?Â‡Â• Â‹Â? Â”Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‹Â–ÂŠÇŻÂ• The Â Birth Â of Â a Â Nation Â (1915) Â
were Â so Â under-Ââ€?cranked Â that Â they Â need Â to Â be Â shown Â at Â 12 Â fps. Â 12 Â ÂƒÂ”Â†ÇĄ ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â•Ç¤ÇŽÂ‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â– Â‹ÂŽÂ?Â’Â‡Â‡Â†ÇŻÂ‹Â?Image Â (October Â 1955), Â p.55-Ââ€?56. Â
the ones around or before the year 1910. After that, 18 fps seems to be more common. Every film ǡǡ ǤǤ ǡǲ ct speed of ȏǥȐ of projection is to watch the screen and regulate the speed of projection to synchronize with the speed of taking[sic: talkingȐǤǳ13 In spite of hi ǡ ǯ Ǥ mentioned before, projectionists did not always have a choice. Theatre owners dictated their schedules in such a way that over-‐speeding was almost inevitable. Furthermore, as both James Card and Kevin Brownlow have indicated, studio cue sheets indicated that films should be shown at a frame rate consistently higher than the original camera speed. Given the work load of projectionists, it was, and still is, also quite unthinkable that they should change projection speed Ǥ ǯ -‐speeding Ȃ describing it to be a ǲ ǳ14 -‐ is very understandable, especially from a present-‐day point of view, but, as a contemporary of Richardson noted, over-‐ ǲ ǮǯǤǳ15 ǯ Ǯǯ ǲ ǳ Ǥ Putting the audience first The contemporary programmer of silent film is therefore put in quite a predicament. If historical accuracy is the goal, then there are a number of elements that have to be taken into account, some Ǥǯtions -‐ if these are voiced at all -‐ might go against studio guidelines, musical cue sheets, and projection trends. In addition, some of the published speeds were just ridiculously fast. So which piece of information is most important for the silent film programmer? The best kind of advice that one can find in projection manuals, from 1910 to 2010, is also the most simple: keep your eyes on the screen. Programmers constantly run 13 Richardson, F.H. Ibid., p.217. 14 Ibid., p.216. 15 Bennett, Colin N. A Guide to Kinematography (Projection Section): For Managers, Manager Operators, and Operators
of Kinema Theatres. London: Sir Isaac Pitman & Sons, Ltd., 1923, p.164.
the risk of over-‐ or under-‐speeding16 the projection of a silent film, but this does not have to involve any form of judgment, or any strict adherence to historical accuracy. The intention of the programmer is still to show the films to an audience. It seems, then, that it is not a matter of right or wrong, of accurate or inaccurate. The projection might be over-‐ or under-‐sped if the movements of the actors look more realistic that way. For ǯ ǡ Cherchi Usai, this is exactly what the Giornate stǣǲ ǡ Ǥǳ17 The festival organizers try their best to strike a compromise between the available historical data, gathered from archives by international experts, and audience appreciation. It are also the archives that provide the Giornate with the proper projection speeds. At the end of the day, however, it is still the audience that counts, as chief projectionist Mr. Montanaro explains: ǲ ǡspectacle. When the lights go out, we ǡȏǥȐ always be found in history books, but we still have to reproduce them in the cinema. So sometimes it happens that we do not follow the instructions, in Ǥǳ
At the 2009 Giornate del Cinema Muto, the recently restored film ǯ Ǩ (Abel Gance, 1919) was at the heart of this discussion. The restoration of this film was done by the Nederlands Filmmuseum, who provided the print with the instruction to run it at 18 fps. Upon viewing the film before the festival, however, Paolo Cherchi Usai, Giornate director David Robinson and silent film expert Kevin Brownlow decided that perhaps screening the film at 16 fps would be more suited for a contemporary audience. Silent film pianist Stephen Horne, who had accompanied the film at 18 fps when it was screened in London, backed them up by stating that he had also found it
16 Under-‐speeding projection was common practice in film circles after the silent era, when it was believed that 16 fps
was in fact a standard speed, causing some films to drag immensely. For more information see Brownlow, Kevin. Ibid. 17 All information gained by interviewing Mr. Cherchi Usai on 7 th of December 2009.
too fast.18 At one of the Collegium sessions concerning the ǯ Ǩ restoration case, the Nederlands Filmmuseum team nevertheless vocally stood by their decision to screen the film at 18 fps. The Giornate team had also considered the option to screen the first part of the film at 16 fps, and the second at 18 fps, but they eventually went for a uniform frame rate. F.H. Richardson ǲͳͲͲͲǡǳ 19 but this was never very manageable in reality, so the Giornate experts only do this on rare occasions, after careful consideration. There is more than meets the eye to the projection of a silent film. Heavy historical baggage and ethical dilemmas are part and parcel of this type of entertainment, and then one still has an audience to please. The approach of the Giornate del Cinema Muto is one that takes all the aforementioned difficulties in its stride, and then puts the audience first. The concern should not ǲǳ ǲǡǳ what the purpose of the festival is, and that purpose is presenting silent films to a contemporary audience in the best possible circumstances. ǡ ǲ expense of emot ǡ ǡ Ǥǳ For what is a silent film, without an audience.
18 The proper silent film speed is often decided upon in collaboration with the musician(s) accompanying the film, for
the speed of the film also influences its rhythm and, thus, that of the music. 19 F.H. Richardson as quoted in Card, James. Ibid.
Looking forward, looking back: Memory, methods, and models for the future of silent cinema Meredith A. Bak ǲ ǡ Ǥǳ -‐-‐ Eileen Bowser1 At the beginning of Le Quinzième Prélude de Chopin (1922), Monsieur Monet sets up a motion picture projector in his parlor and screens a Charlie Chaplin movie for his delighted young son Paul. The pleasure of this idyllic scene, in which a father shares the magic of the movies to his son, is short-‐lived in the context of the film. However, it is an exceptional metaphor for the Collegium at Le Giornate del Cinema Muto, in which veterans of the silent film community introduce novice members to the rich world of the art form as it exists today. This unique convergence of communities, a network of scholars, archivists, preservationists, and collectors, offers great potential to the future of silent film, but also presents a substantial challenge. As technological changes enable more parties to collaborate on restoration projects, and digitization redefines the nature of an artifact, increased attention must be paid not only to the films, but to documenting the process of how the films are treated in archival settings. Understanding the motivations of those involved in preservation and restoration is essential to scholars, audiences, and future archive professionals who hope to understand the film. By highlighting several case studies discussed in the 2009 Collegium dialogues, this paper explores the acute need for thorough project documentation in restoration projects, and outlines the main constituencies that would benefit from such materials. Restoration projects often involve collaboration across a variety of interested communities, from archivists and students to collectors and technology experts. United by a goal of preserving a
1 ǤǤǲ ǣ Ǥ The Moving Image. Vol. 3,
Issue 1, 2003 pp. 132-‐146.
cultural Â or Â historical Â artifact, Â these Â groups Â cooperate Â to Â rescue Â films Â from Â the Â ravages Â of Â time, Â and Â importantly, Â make Â them Â available Â to Â a Â wider Â audience Â (often Â in Â a Â variety Â of Â ways Â that Â acknowledge Â changing Â modes Â of Â spectatorship). Â While Â the Â ultimate Â objective Â for Â these Â projects Â is Â often Â preservation Â and Â wider Â access Â for Â silent Â films, Â the Â preservation Â process Â itself Â also Â becomes Â a Â part Â Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÇŻÂ• ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â›Ç¤ Â‘Â™Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• ÂƒÂ•Â’Â‡Â…Â– Â…ÂƒÂ? Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‹ÂŽÂ› Â„Â‡ Â‘Â˜Â‡Â”ÂŽÂ‘Â‘Â?Â‡Â†Ç¤ Â• Â’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â”Â˜ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? ÂƒÂ?Â† restoration Â methods Â continue Â to Â change, Â and Â as Â restored Â silent Â films Â move Â from Â celluloid Â to Â the Â digital Â realm, Â the Â need Â for Â thorough Â documentation Â is Â increasingly Â important. Â Â
Â? Âƒ Â…Â‘Â?Â˜Â‡Â”Â•ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â†Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â”ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â”ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â›Â‡ÂƒÂ”ÇŻÂ• Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ? Â‡Â?Â?Â‹Â• Â‡Â?Â‘Â”Â‹ÂƒÂŽ Â‡Â…Â–Â—Â”Â‡Â”ÇĄ Â•ÂŠÂ‡ exprÂ‡Â•Â•Â‡Â† ÂŠÂ‡Â” Â”Â‡ÂŽÂ—Â…Â–ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ Â–Â‘ Â˜Â‡Â?Â–Â—Â”Â‡ Â‹Â?Â–Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â™ÂŠÂ‘ÂŽÂŽÂ› Â?Â‡Â™ Â–Â‡Â”Â”Â‹Â–Â‘Â”Â› Â‘Âˆ Â†Â‹Â‰Â‹Â–ÂƒÂŽ Â–Â‡Â…ÂŠÂ?Â‘ÂŽÂ‘Â‰Â›Ç¤ Ç˛ Â…ÂƒÂ?ÇŻÂ– ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ”Â?Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â™Â‘Â”ÂŽÂ†Ç¤Â‡ÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â‹Â–Â–Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‡ÂšÂ–Â‰Â‡Â?Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Ç¤Çł2 Â In Â part, Â the Â Collegium Â is Â designed Â to Â help Â bridge Â this Â generational Â gap Â that Â often Â becomes Â apparent Â in Â discussions Â of Â technology. Â The Â Collegium Â enables Â younger Â professionals Â to Â infiltrate Â the Â existing Â silent Â film Â community, Â to Â learn Â from Â the Â rich Â resources Â that Â experienced Â professionals Â can Â offer, Â and Â in Â turn, Â contribute Â their Â own Â insights Â about Â the Â current Â and Â fÂ—Â–Â—Â”Â‡ Â•Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â•Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â– Â…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÇ¤ Â?Â’ÂŽÂ‹Â…Â‹Â– Â–ÂŠÂ”Â‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÂ‘Â—Â– Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â›Â‡ÂƒÂ”ÇŻÂ• Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â‰Â‹Â—Â?ÇĄ however, Â was Â the Â potential Â for Â a Â second Â gap. Â Instead Â of Â being Â between Â generations, Â this Â gap Â is Â between Â the Â different Â participants Â involved Â in Â preserving, Â restoring, Â and Â disseminating Â silent Â films. Â Â Â Â‹ÂŽÂ? Ç˛Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Çł Â?Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â• Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â– Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‰Â• Â‹Â? Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â– Â…Â‘Â?Â–Â‡ÂšÂ–Â•Ç¤ Â?ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡ Â’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â”Â˜ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇĄ Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠ primarily Â emphasizes Â the Â stabilization Â of Â material, Â saving Â it Â from Â vanishing, Â restoration Â implies Â changing Â the Â material Â in Â question. Â Restoration Â might Â involve Â constructing Â a Â particular Â cut Â of Â a Â film Â Č‹ÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ–Â”Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ…Â—Â–Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ†Â‹Â”Â‡Â…Â–Â‘Â”ÇŻÂ•Â…Â—Â–ÇĄÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡ÂšÂƒÂ?Â’ÂŽÂ‡ČŒÇ¤ Â–Â?Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â‹Â?Â˜Â‘ÂŽÂ˜Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â•Â‡Â?Â„ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‰ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ?Â?Â‘Â™Â?ÂˆÂ‘Â‘Â–ÂƒÂ‰Â‡Â‘Âˆ a Â film, Â even Â if Â the Â resulting Â film Â was Â never Â shown Â in Â such Â length Â before. Â Restoration Â may Â involve Â cleanÂ‹Â?Â‰ Â—Â’ ÂƒÂ? Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ‰Â‡ Â‘Â” ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â‡Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â…Â‘ÂŽÂ‘Â”Â•ÇĄ Âƒ Â’Â”Â‘Â…Â‡Â•Â• Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– ÂŽÂ‹ Â‡Â—Â†Â‡ÂŽ ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â‡ÂŽÂƒ Â—Â”Â”Ă–ÇŻÂ• Collegium Â dialogue Â demonstrated Â is Â always Â contingent Â upon Â innumerable Â historical Â factors.3 Â The Â Â…Â‘Â?Â’ÂŽÂ‡ÂšÂ‹Â–Â›Â‘ÂˆÂ†Â‡ÂˆÂ‹Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â†Â—Â?Â†Â‡Â”Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â†Â‹Â?Â‰Â‡ÂƒÂ…ÂŠÂ’Â”Â‘ÂŒÂ‡Â…Â–ÇŻÂ•Â—Â?Â‹Â“ue Â aims Â is Â nothing Â new. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
2 Â Edith Â Kramer, Â Interview Â with Â the Â author, Â 9 Â October Â 2009. Â 3 Â Daniela Â CurrĂ˛ Â and Â Uli Â Ruedel. Â Collegium Â Dialogue: Â Il Â restauro Â del Â colore, Â 7 Â October Â 2009. Â Â
However, particularly as collaborative projects involve multiple agencies and employ different technologies, documenting the motivations, rationales for decision-‐ǡ ǯ role becomes crucial to understanding the film, both for contemporary professionals and audiences, as well as for future generations. Each group involved in a restoration project brings a unique set of concerns, priorities, and perspectives to bear on the final product. The basic process is relatively familiar: Scholars often work to unearth historical context and original documents related to a film; those working in the archives help negotiate access to these materials; and collectors can aid in locating materials. In the labs, much discussion revolves around the precise processes by which the film will be preserved or restored, and technical consultants are brought in to make the film accessible in different formats, such as online as a streaming video. While this is a gross simplification of each ǯǡ ǯ scope of their expertise. Though they may share the same aim, these different groups go about their work in different ǲǡǳe tone of academic writing, the legal and ethical discourse guiding the archivist, the scientific details of preservation methods, and the programming language of computer code that prepares data for Internet viewing. Collaborative projects can take advantage ǯǡ Ǥ for the importance of a professional or institutional history is nothing new. However, changes in communication technologies have dramatically aided collaboration across geographical and cultural expanses, and further, these conversations increasingly involve multiple parties with very different interests and perspectives, ranging from universities, technology firms, and state archives. Such initiatives can overcome many boundaries. Archivists often joke about the difficulty of transporting film across borders, bemoaning the difficulty of customs categories and recounting times when films were most safely stored in their own luggage. The next generation of silent film enthusiasts will face these same challenges, and further, they must think also about the virtual borders that data and other non-‐physical records must traverse. Aside from being a philosophical issue, it becomes a deeply pragmatic one as well. Documenting the methodology and logistics of these collaborative partnerships is crucial to this process.
Carefully chronicling the methods and procedures of these projects can be as important as the finished project itself, much like the metadata attached to a library catalog record. Doing so benefits three primary constituencies. First, it is helpful to the contemporary professional ǡ ǯǡ ǡ can discuss the implications ǯ the archive. Secondly, project documentation can benefit the audience. Although it is unreasonable to assume that each audience will desire the full back story of a film, making such information available enables a richer understanding of the film, as well as an appreciation of the work done to bring it to life for contemporary theatergoers. Third, focused records articulating the relationships between participants in restoration projects will help clarify the intricacies of the process to future generations of the silent film community, which will be charged of making sense of these materials and what we have done with them. The first community to benefit from a standardized form of project documentation is the professional network of institutions that work with silent films. These parties include cultural institutions like archives and museums, academic programs, and increasingly involve private firms, which offer technological expertise and other resources. Such collaborations involve complex exchanges among all of these groups, and the communication does not always occur across even terrain. A state-‐funded archive collaborating with a private university and a technology company that takes them on as clients all have different motivations, and different stakes in the finished product. Particularly when a project is tremendously successful, (or tremendously unsuccessful), records documenting how these parties work together, but from different vantage points, could be invaluable for institutions embarking on similar endeavors. One area in which the potential gap in documenting methods seems acutely apparent is in projects that utilize new media and employ experimental infrastructures. Groundbreaking and innovative uses of technology are especially important to document and track, because they tend to be replicated and used as blueprints for subsequent projects. The Rose of Rhodesia (1918) project, a collaboration among institutions in four countries, including the Nederlands Filmmuseum (EYE), Latrobe University, and a US web partner, Thought Equity Motion, is such an example. The Rose of Rhodesia project culminated with the film available for viewing online, an issue of Screening the
Past dedicated to its history and restoration, and a usable online archive of original historical documents related to the film. The Rose of Rhodesia project serves as a valuable example for other institutions considering trying to make content available online. When asked what criteria were used in selecting The Rose of Rhodesia ǡ ǲ Ǥǳ4 In discussing what sorts of models and previous initiatives this project was based on, she noted that the ǯ ǡ project, was essential to making this project possible. As more universities, archives, and museums attempt web initiatives, it is increasingly necessary to document and understand best practices for technical specifications, elements of web design, and the kinds of accessibility that these projects enable. ǯ ǲ ǳ the whole processȄthat many of these discoveries and collaborations are serendipitous. Sometimes funding, personnel, and other opportunities align, and those conditions cannot simply be standardized and replicated. That is part of the excitement involved in the process of historical discovery and archival work. Still, especially as the lives of silent films continue in other formsȄ on DVDs and the InternetȄthe importance of tracking and understanding their movements becomes more important than ever. Speaking about such web projects, Edith Kramer pointed out that many websites have very short life spans. The Internet is ephemeral, and she suggested that institutions often launch sites without long-‐term structures in place for continued funding and the inevitably required upgrades.5 ǡ ǯ-‐cited Dead Media Project, eventually go inactive.6 The Internet can be an invaluable tool to share and disseminate information, though careful planning and design of a project, are essential, as are advanced ǯ Ǥ
4 Vreni Hockenjos, Special Collegium Session: The Rose of Rhodesia and The Wheels of Chance, 8 October 2009. 5 Edith Kramer, Interview with the author, 9 October 2009. 6 Bruce Sterling, The Dead Media Project. http://www.deadmedia.org/
institutions can learn from one another in these regards, to understand certain requirements for successful, long-‐term plans. The second community that benefits from knowledge of the preservation and restoration process is the ever-‐expanding audience of silent films. Among the core constituencies of such multi-‐faceted audiences are film students, who ought to take a keen interest in understanding how silent films are restored and preserved. Here too, the fact that participants in a restoration project approach their work from a variety of perspectives can be important for students and scholars in forming their analytical frameworkǤ ǯ ǯ (1919), Annike Kross explained that the process became so time consuming and implausible for ǯ Ǥ7 A chief benefit of outsourcing, Kross explained, was that the job could be completed much faster, because the Indian firm could staff the process around the clock. This detail of the project raised a number of questions in the Collegium session. Many Collegium participants were curious about the archival standards employed by the external firm, and inquired about the potential difference in archival training and perspective. Others were interested in the way that outsourcing the labor in India changed the f Ǥ ǯǡ and are important elements to consider in future analyses and treatments of the film. Close documentation of the working relationship between the parties involved might address this spectrum of inquiries and shed light on how each participant shaped the resulting version of the film. In addition to specific restoration cases as fruitful sites of analysis, the films made available through restoration projects also have longer-‐term impact on the silent film scholarship. One of ǲǳ silent film masterpieces is maintained through the complex interplay of archival work, scholarship, and importantly, access to the films.8 The films that are most visible within the
7 Annike Kross, Collegium Dialogue: Il caso del restauro di ǯ , 8 October 2009. 8 Paolo Cherchi Usai, Special Collegium Session: Il canone rivisitato, 5 October 2009.
archival Â and Â scholarly Â communities Â are Â also Â often Â those Â that Â are Â the Â most Â available Â to Â be Â used Â in Â teaching Â contexts. Â Here Â again, Â one Â of Â the Â most Â exciting Â elements Â of Â The Â Rose Â of Â Rhodesia Â project Â was Â the Â fact Â that Â the Â film, Â long Â considered Â lost, Â was Â available Â once Â again. Â Â Â The Â proliferation Â of Â digital Â copies Â of Â films Â adds Â another Â element Â of Â complexity Â to Â restoration Â Â‡ÂˆÂˆÂ‘Â”Â–Â•Ç¤ Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ?Â?Â—ÂƒÂŽ Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â‡Â?Â?Â‹Â•Â‡Â?Â‘Â”Â‹ÂƒÂŽÂ‡Â…Â–Â—Â”Â‡ÇĄÇ˛ Â‹ÂŽÂ?Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ÇŁÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡Â™Â‡ÇŻÂ˜Â‡Â„Â‡Â‡Â? ÂƒÂ?Â†Â™ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡Â™Â‡ÇŻÂ”Â‡Â‰Â‘Â‹Â?Â‰Č‹Â”Â‰Â—Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â•Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ?Â›Â•Â‡ÂŽÂˆÇĄČŒÇłÂ†Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ”ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â”Â’Â‘Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â†Â‘Â—Â–Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â†Â‹Â‰Â‹Â–Â‹ÂœÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‹Â•Â?Â‘Â– cheaper Â for Â archives Â and Â institutions Â (which Â often Â require Â substantial Â technical Â overhauls). 9 Â However, Â many Â teaching Â facilities Â are Â only Â equipped Â with Â digital Â capabilities. Â Thus, Â having Â a Â film Â available Â online Â or Â in Â a Â DVD Â format Â is Â ideal Â for Â of Â many Â instructors Â for Â whom Â 35mm Â projection Â would Â not Â be Â possible Â (though Â this Â reality Â is Â certain Â to Â draw Â ire Â from Â many Â silent Â film Â purists). Â In Â many Â cases, Â restoration Â is Â not Â an Â issue Â of Â content Â migration, Â but Â rather Â the Â creation Â of Â additional Â copies, Â so Â that Â the Â same Â film Â may Â exist Â in Â multiple Â formats, Â each Â one Â of Â which Â has Â a Â distinct Â technological Â and Â exhibition Â history. Â In Â introducing Â films Â like Â The Â Rose Â of Â Rhodesia Â and Â a Â constellation Â of Â related Â scholarly Â writing Â and Â original Â documents Â to Â a Â potentially Â unlimited Â audience, Â these Â kinds Â of Â projects Â have Â the Â potential Â to Â further Â stabilize, Â add Â to, Â or Â even Â challenge Â the Â existing Â silent Â film Â canon. Â Part Â of Â the Â learning Â process Â for Â film Â students Â is Â to Â think Â critically Â about Â how Â the Â canon Â is Â formed Â and Â what Â efforts Â are Â undertaken Â to Â bring Â silent Â films Â to Â them. Â ÂŠÂ—Â•ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂƒÂ„Â‹ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â› Â–Â‘ ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ”Â? ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â? Â’Â”Â‘ÂŒÂ‡Â…Â– Â†Â‘Â…Â—Â?Â‡Â?Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‹Â? ÂƒÂ†Â†Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â? Â–Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Ç˛ÂƒÂ”Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â˜ÂƒÂŽÇł Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹ÂƒÂŽÂ• thÂ‡Â?Â•Â‡ÂŽÂ˜Â‡Â•Â‹Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ–Â”Â‡Â?Â‡Â?Â†Â‘Â—Â•Â—Â–Â‹ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â›Ç¤Â˜Â‡Â”Â›ÂƒÂ”Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â˜Â‡Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â—ÂŽÂ†ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡ÂƒÇ˛Â„Â‡ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â…Â‡Â?Â‡Â•ÇłÂ…Â‘Â?Â’Â‘Â?Â‡Â?Â–Ç¤ Â Â Other Â sectors Â of Â the Â audience, Â including Â the Â general Â public, Â can Â also Â benefit Â from Â knowing Â a Â silent Â ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÇŻÂ•Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â›Ç¤ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‹Â?Â‰Âƒ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÇŻÂ•ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ…Â‘Â?textČ„including Â both Â its Â initial Â theatrical Â reception Â as Â well Â as Â how Â it Â reached Â the Â contemporary Â screenČ„can Â play Â a Â valuable Â role Â in Â helping Â the Â audience Â develop Â connections Â with Â films. Â At Â the Â beginning Â of Â L'heureuse Â mort Â (1924), Â playwright Â Theodore Â Larue Â peeks Â through Â a Â hole Â in Â the Â stage Â scenery Â to Â observe Â the Â audience Â ÂƒÂŽÂ–Â‡Â”Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡ÂŽÂ› Â›ÂƒÂ™Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â‰Â”Â‘Â™Â‹Â?Â‰ Â‹Â?ÂˆÂ—Â”Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â† ÂƒÂ– ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â?Â‡Â™ Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ›Ç¤ Â‘Â” ÂƒÂ”Â—Â‡ÇĄ Â™ÂƒÂ–Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‰ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂƒÂ—Â†Â‹Â‡Â?Â…Â‡ÇŻÂ• Â”Â‡Â•Â’Â‘Â?Â•Â‡Â‹Â•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â„Â‡Â•Â–Â‰ÂƒÂ—Â‰Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ›ÇŻÂ•Â•Â—Â…Â…Â‡Â•Â•Ç¤Â˜Â‡Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…Â‘Â—Â”Â•Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÇĄÂ‹Â–Â‹Â•Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›ÂƒÂˆÂ–Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ”Â—Â‡ÇŻÂ• Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
9 Â Â†Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â”ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â”ÇĄ Â?Â?Â—ÂƒÂŽ Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ? Â‡Â?Â?Â‹Â• Â‡Â…Â–Â—Â”Â‡ÇĄ Ç˛ Â‹ÂŽÂ? Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ÇŁ ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ Â™Â‡ÇŻÂ˜Â‡ Â„Â‡Â‡Â? ÂƒÂ?Â† Â™ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ Â™Â‡ÇŻÂ”Â‡ Â‰Â‘Â‹Â?Â‰
alleged Â drowning Â in Â the Â North Â Sea Â that Â his Â works Â acquire Â critical Â recognition. Â Even Â though Â they Â Â’Â”Â‡Â˜Â‹Â‘Â—Â•ÂŽÂ›Â”Â‡Â…Â‡Â‹Â˜Â‡Â†Â’Â‘Â‘Â”Â”Â‡Â˜Â‹Â‡Â™Â•ÇĄÂ™ÂŠÂ‡Â?ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ›Â•Â„Â‡Â…Â‘Â?Â‡Ç˛Â’Â‘Â•Â–ÂŠÂ—Â?Â‘Â—Â•ÇłÂ™Â‘Â”Â?Â•ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â›Â?Â‹Â”ÂƒÂ…Â—ÂŽÂ‘Â—Â•ÂŽÂ› transform Â into Â indispensable Â masterpieces Â with Â a Â place Â in Â the Â dramatic Â canon. Â Unfortunately, Â not Â every Â silent Â film Â has Â a Â team Â of Â advocates Â waiting Â to Â promote Â it. Â There Â are Â philosophical, Â financial, Â Â…Â‹Â”Â…Â—Â?Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â–Â‹ÂƒÂŽÇĄ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â” ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â–Â‘Â”Â• Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ† Â–Â‘ Âƒ Â’ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‹Â…Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ” ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÇŻÂ• Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Ç¤ Â—Â†Â‹Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â•ÇĄ ÂƒÂ• Â†Â‹Â–ÂŠ Kramer Â suggested Â in Â her Â lecture, Â often Â have Â little Â idea Â of Â what Â the Â role Â of Â the Â archivist Â is Â in Â getting Â the Â film Â to Â the Â screen. Â The Â notion Â of Â restoration Â implies Â bringing Â the Â film Â to Â light Â again, Â presumably Â for Â the Â benefit Â of Â new Â audiences, Â which Â makes Â this Â gap Â in Â knowledge Â a Â particularly Â important Â one Â to Â address. Â Â Just Â as Â Theodore Â Larue Â read Â the Â failure Â of Â his Â play Â on Â the Â faces Â of Â his Â bored Â audience, Â Kramer Â described Â countless Â nights Â standing Â at Â the Â back Â of Â the Â theatre Â at Â the Â Pacific Â Film Â Archive, Â where Â she Â attentively Â lisÂ–Â‡Â?Â‡Â† Â–Â‘ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‰Â‘Â‡Â”Â•ÇŻ Â”Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ”Â?Â•Ç¤ ÂŠÂ‡ Â–Â‘Â‘Â? Â?Â‘Â–Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â” Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÇĄ Â‘Â„Â•Â‡Â”Â˜Â‡Â† Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â” posture, Â and Â paid Â attention Â to Â the Â burgeoning Â discussions Â as Â people Â exited. Â She Â largely Â gauged Â the Â success Â of Â her Â film Â programs Â based Â on Â their Â cues. Â The Â role Â of Â the Â programmer, Â Kramer Â suggested, Â Â™ÂƒÂ• Â–Â‘ Â–Â”Â—ÂŽÂ› Â„Â‡Â‰Â‹Â? Â–Â‘ Â—Â?Â†Â‡Â”Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂƒÂ?Â–Â‹Â…Â‹Â’ÂƒÂ–Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂƒÂ—Â†Â‹Â‡Â?Â…Â‡ÇŻÂ• Â?Â‡Â‡Â†Â•Ç¤ ÂŠÂ‡ Â?ÂƒÂ†Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‡Â˜Â‘Â…ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â˜Â‡ statement Â that Â a Â programmer Â has Â not Â fulfilled Â their Â role Â until Â they Â have Â achieved Â a Â kind Â of Â organic Â bond Â with Â their Â theatergoers: Â she Â said Â that Â a Â Â’Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‡Â”Â?Â—Â•Â–Ç˛Â„Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ—Â†Â‹Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Ç¤Çł10 Â Â Part Â of Â making Â a Â silent Â film Â legible Â to Â a Â contemporary Â audience Â is Â a Â discussion Â of Â how Â it Â was Â preserved, Â the Â choices Â that Â were Â made Â in Â restoring Â its Â color, Â the Â way Â it Â was Â pieced Â together Â from Â many Â versions, Â and Â how Â the Â music Â was Â created. Â Understanding Â these Â attributes Â of Â a Â film Â help Â audiences Â recognize Â that Â even Â though Â it Â is Â a Â historical Â document, Â in Â many Â respects, Â it Â is Â a Â contemporary Â one Â as Â well. Â This Â is Â especially Â important Â for Â young Â film Â students, Â who Â may Â oÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â™Â‹Â•Â‡ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‹Â…Â—ÂŽÂ–Â›Ç˛Â…Â‘Â?Â?Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â?Â‰ÇłÂ–Â‘Â•Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â–ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â”Â‹Â?Â‹Â–Â‹ÂƒÂŽÂ‡Â?Â…Â‘Â—Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â•Ç¤ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡Â‹Â•ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ dimension Â to Â this. Â Silent Â films Â do Â not Â merely Â shed Â light Â on Â historical Â conditions, Â but Â also Â tell Â stories Â and Â offer Â images Â that Â help Â us Â understand Â ourselves Â and Â move Â us. Â The Â choices Â made Â in Â restoring Â and Â exhibiting Â silent Â filmsČ„from Â frame Â rate, Â to Â color Â choice, Â to Â the Â intricacies Â of Â editingČ„all Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
10 Â Â†Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â”ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â”ÇĄ Â?Â?Â—ÂƒÂŽ Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ? Â‡Â?Â?Â‹Â• Â‡Â…Â–Â—Â”Â‡ÇĄ Ç˛ Â‹ÂŽÂ? Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ÇŁ ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ Â™Â‡ÇŻÂ˜Â‡ Â„Â‡Â‡Â? ÂƒÂ?Â† Â™ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ Â™Â‡ÇŻÂ”Â‡ Â‰Â‘Â‹Â?Â‰
contribute to the ways that audiences react. Knowledge of these choices is an essential tool for the audience to be able to recognize how and why a film moved them in a particular way. Not only is project documentation a vital activity for the professional community and silent film audiences of today, but it is also of central importance to the professional community of the future.
ǯ ǡ spectatorship, and preservation priorities will change. The preparation for future silent film enthusiasts is speculative. Every archivist of their time is not entirely certain of what to save, and will invariably discard some item that will leave a future researcher with a compelling mystery. ǲ Ǥǳ11 These uncertainties notwithstanding, we have an obligation to leave a trail of our work that might subsequently be found. Many of the historical documents that current professionals work with were ubiquitous in their time. The newspapers and trade periodicals that scholars consult and the institutional handbooks and studio materials that archivists rely on were once commonplace materials, but now may prove difficult to find. Similarly, the commonplace materials of our time will eventually become obsolete and disappear if not they are not consciously saved. Email exchanges between archives, and the Powerpoint presentations shown at professional conferences are all part of this contemporary knowledge. There are, of course, many forums and repositories attentive to chronicling the methods and procedures informing restoration projects. In varying levels of depth, publications about curatorial practice and liner notes accompanying DVDs, as well as professional conferences and festivals, such as the Giornate and (while not exclusively focused on silent film) the Orphan Film Symposium, all attempt to bring related communities together to share best practices, troubleshoot challenges, and forge new relationships. The Collegium dialogues are an exemplary model for sharing such knowledge, though the format of the dialogue is also heavily reliant upon the oral tradition. The directive to document and to save introduces the tremendous problem of deciding what to keep and how to organize it. Invariably things will be lost, and future generations will be puzzled 11 ǡǲ ǤǳFilm History. Vol. 7, Issue 3. Autumn, 1995. pp. 256-‐253.
by the trail left to them. However conscious efforts to develop collections policies of these materials, saving certain records and noting the status of materials that have been discarded, is a valuable first set of steps. Keeping record of the methods and motivations of film preservation helps outline the professional procedures and priorities of our time. Such a demand is particularly ǲ ǳ Ǥ Metaphors of the danger ǯ Ǥ the gentleman in ǯ (1906) loses his glasses, the places he inhabits every day suddenly become unfamiliar and impossible to navigate. To comic effect, he trips over the ǡ ǯ Ǥ ǯǡ ǯ Ǥ ǡ Ȅa method of seeing at a distanceȄthat Rabbi Low spots danger for the Jews in Der Golem, Wie er in die Welt Kam (1920) Here, it is his ability to anticipate and predict that offers the possibility for preservation. Similarly, the silent film community has both a vested interest as well as an obligation to preserve their own records for posterity, avoiding the myopia of considering only the present. People who work with silent films are already aware of the importance of historical documentation. However, a unique attribute of the current professional climate is the abundance of possibilities to collaborate among many different groups. The more participants there are, the greater the opportunity for a central and comprehensive record of the project to get lost in process. Those of us who love silent film understand the excitement of piecing together fragmented historical records to inform our understanding of the films today. Equally important is the documentation of such methods. These records can serve as examples for other institutions embarking on similar projects, help contemporary audiences make sense of what they see and how it got to the screen, and leave a trail for archivists in the future, who will work to understand what we have done.
A place for music Marco Bellano It was October the 4thǡʹͲͲͻǤǲ ǡǳ ǡ ǯǡ Ǥǡ ǯ ǡ rd was not in fact a creation of Mr. Hoffman; instead, as explained in the catalogue produced by Le Giornate del Cinema Muto, the 1925 film The Eagle was being screened with the accompaniment of a score written in 1985 by the American composer and conductor Carl Davis. The music was not being presented as it usually is during Le Giornate: that is to say, in a live performance given by a soloist or an ensemble, in keeping with the historical practice of silent film accompaniment. Instead, the music was pre-‐recorded and synchronized with the 35mm print. It is reasonable to assume that the greater part of the audience was not overly bothered by these details. Film researchers, but also simple enthusiasts of Le Giornate, know quite well that today there are many plausible ways to arrange the musical presentation of a silent feature. History tells us that to give a particular silent film an all-‐new score is not a mistake, even if back in time, when the film was realized, a composer spent a lot of his creative energies to pen down some lines of ǤǲȏǥȐMusic for the silent film was an independent, ever-‐ ǳ ȋǡ ͳͻͻǣ Ȍǣ re to theatre, many different musicians would meet a single silent picture. As a result, each film could have a lot of Ǯ ǯǤ by the music that accompanied the show was not usually formed of original creations. Rather it relied on assemblages of popular pieces from every kind of repertoire, spanning from folk songs to classical concertos1, compiled before the screenings or Ȃ especially when a single player, such as a pianist, was involved -‐ used as a basis for free improvisation as the images appeared on the screen. Even when original scores started to become more common (around 1908, Altman, 2004: 251-‐52), only 1 See Altman, 2004: 104, 225, 290-‐91
the big theatres in the most important cities in Europe or in the U. S. A were likely to benefit from that new music: the smaller towns (with lesser artistic resources) often preferring to continue with the compilation/improvisation practices (Simeon, 1995: 117).2 So, it is likely that many ͳͻʹͷ ǯ ǡ as it happened with the 2009 audience in the Teatro Verdi. Anyway, the experience of 2009 was different: as already noticed, the performance was recorded and played through loudspeakers. The transition from the silent to the sound film was not only a matter of technology and synchronization. As from 1927 onwards ǲǯ ǡ ȏǥȐ is a space for reproductionǳ (Holman in Lo Brutto, 1994: 204). Also the way in which spectaǯ bodies responded to film sounds changed, due to the physical differences between the acoustic emission of a loudspeaker compared to that of a musical instrument (Sergi, 2001: 125). Nevertheless, it has become common to accept the use of loudspeakers in contemporary Ǥ Ǯ ǯ sound of the silents. However, this practice is justified by several practical advantages. A silent film with recorded music can be screened in any kind of cinema hall, with no accompanying musicians involved. And, of course, it can be transferred to VHS, DVD or even on Blu-‐ray Disc, and enjoyed and studied privately. Recorded music actually enhances the diffusion of silent films. So, no one actually stood up and left the Teatro Verdi because of the fact that the music was not by the Ǯǯ composer and that the new score was recorded and not played live. This, however, does not mean that the circumstances of this presentation do not deserve to be discussed at all. The instantaneous clash between many ages of film history (1925, 1985 and 2009), implicitly ȋ ǯ loudspeakers), was too suggestive and meaningful to be ignored.
2 ǡǮǯ ǡ
fragments of staples from the film music repertoire. See Erdmann, Becce, Brav: 6, side note.
ÂƒÂ”ÂŽÂƒÂ˜Â‹Â•ÇŻÂ•Â…Â‘Â”Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”The Â Eagle Â Â™ÂƒÂ•Â„Â”Â‹ÂŽÂŽÂ‹ÂƒÂ?Â–ÂƒÂ?Â†Â‡ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡Ç¤Â—Â–Â™ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â™ÂƒÂ•Â‹Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ‡ÂŽÂ‘ÂˆÂˆÂ?ÂƒÂ?ÇŻÂ•Â?Â—Â•Â‹Â… like? Â Would Â it Â have Â improved Â or Â worsened Â the Â impact Â of Â The Â Eagle Â on Â the Â 2009 Â Pordenone Â audience? Â These Â questions Â easily Â arose Â right Â after Â the Â screening, Â and Â found Â a Â certain Â number Â of Â the Â members Â of Â the Â 2009 Â Pordenone Â Collegium Â already Â wondering Â about Â this Â topic. Â The Â problem Â was Â not Â that Â the Â film Â was Â presented Â with Â a Â different Â music Â (and Â modern Â technology), Â but Â rather Â that Â it Â left Â us Â wondering: Â where Â is Â the Â original Â music? Â Is Â it Â possible Â to Â listen Â to Â it, Â or Â to Â read Â its Â score? Â Or Â has Â it Â been Â irremediably Â lost? Â Â The Â scope Â of Â these Â questions Â goes Â beyond Â mere Â academic Â curiosity. Â In Â the Â silent Â age, Â cinema Â was Â undoubtedly Â an Â audiovisual Â experience. Â Even Â if Â there Â was Â not Â a Â one-Ââ€?to-Ââ€?one Â correspondence Â between Â films Â and Â pieces Â of Â music, Â as Â we Â have Â now Â in Â the Â age Â of Â the Â sound Â cinema, Â there Â surely Â was Â an Â aggregation Â of Â musical Â creations Â that Â existed Â because Â of Â cinema, Â and Â that Â was Â actually Â a Â part Â of Â cinema Â itself. Â It Â is Â not Â excessive Â to Â say Â that Â if Â the Â musical Â heritage Â of Â the Â silent Â film Â becomes Â lost, Â our Â perception Â of Â that Â era Â of Â the Â history Â of Â cinema Â would Â be Â much Â the Â poorer. Â Â Â Â?Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â‡ Â‹Â‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡ Â†Â‡ÂŽ Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Âƒ Â—Â–Â‘ÇŻÂ• Â?ÂƒÂ‹Â? ÂƒÂ…ÂŠÂ‹Â‡Â˜Â‡Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â• Â‹Â• Â‹Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â…Â‘ÂŽlaboration Â with Â the Â most Â important Â film Â archives, Â in Â order Â to Â encourage Â and Â sustain Â international Â projects Â of Â film Â preservation. Â It Â was Â natural, Â therefore, Â in Â the Â context Â of Â the Â Collegium, Â to Â assume Â that Â the Â Pordenone Â Festival Â would Â perhaps Â have Â also Â undertaken Â some Â relationship Â with Â the Â main Â international Â centres Â that Â are Â committed Â to Â the Â preservation Â of Â the Â music Â for Â the Â silents. Â This Â supposition Â was Â also Â based Â on Â empirical Â evidence: Â Le Â Giornate Â is Â not Â only Â a Â place Â where Â music Â is Â played Â along Â with Â films, Â but Â also Â a Â perennial Â workshop Â of Â composition Â and Â improvisation Â for Â silent Â cinema. Â Since Â its Â inception Â in Â 1982, Â the Â Festival Â required Â the Â presence Â of Â skilled Â pianists Â at Â the Â side Â of Â the Â big Â screen, Â to Â provide Â the Â film Â programs Â with Â musical Â comments. Â After Â a Â few Â editions, Â Le Â Giornate Â was Â able Â to Â support Â the Â composition Â and Â the Â performance Â of Â all Â new Â works Â for Â special Â presentations Â of Â silent Â films: Â this Â becoming Â evident Â in Â 1985, Â when, Â for Â instance, Â a Â creation Â for Â two-Ââ€? pianos Â by Â Ennio Â Morricone Â accompanied Â the Â screening Â of Â Consuelita Â (Roberto Â Roberti, Â 1925) Â in Â the Â presence Â of Â the Â son Â of Â the Â director Â of Â the Â film, Â Sergio Â Leone Â (Roberto Â Roberti Â was Â Vincenzo Â Â‡Â‘Â?Â‡ÇŻÂ•Â’Â‡Â?Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‡ČŒÇ¤ÂŠÂ‡Â‰Â”Â‘Â™Â‹Â?Â‰Â…Â‡Â?Â–Â”ÂƒÂŽÂ‹Â–Â›Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â‡ Â‹Â‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â‰ÂƒÂ‹Â?Â‡Â†Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂŽÂ’ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ?Âƒ of Â contemporary Â music Â for Â silent Â films Â led Â to Â the Â foundation Â of Â the Â Pordenone Â Masterclasses Â in Â 2007: Â a Â cycle Â of Â advanced Â lessons Â on Â silent Â film Â accompaniment Â for Â young Â pianists, Â held Â during Â the Â Â
Festival by the worldwide specialists and musicians that have become regular contributors to Le Giornate programs. So, in tandem with the preceding assumption about the possible contacts developed by Le Giornate with institutions devoted to silent film music preservation, it also seemed logical to the collegians to assume that the Festival would have kept track of the rich musical production of the resident composers and pianists, from the early Eighties to the present day, perhaps in the form of an archive of original scores. It has been quite a surprise therefore to discover that, in Pordenone, such an archive does not exist. It seems reasonable to wonder why this archive was never constituted, and if such an archive could be useful for Le Giornate and for the research on silent films in general. On the 5th of October, when I first pointed out this issue at the end of a Collegium session, after a brief talk with some fellow collegians and Prof. Paolo Cherchi Usai, the 2009 Giornate still had almost an entire week left to run. Consequently, I decided to make the most of this time to try to understand if Le Giornate del Cinema Muto really needs such an archive, and if it would be possible to actually develop such a project. I decided to approach this task by starting in the most direct and empirical way, that is to say by interviewing the people that would be among the first to take advantage of such an archive, and who would also be amongst the main contributors to its contents: the musicians that play and teach in Pordenone during the festival. * The response of the musicians to the general possibility of an archive containing music for the silents was unanimous. Approached, particularly right after the daily Pordenone Masterclasses, artists such as Günther Buchwald, John Sweeney, Donald Sosin and Neil Brand kindly agreed to take time to express their points of view about the topic. Everyone, independently, commented upon the idea of such a collection in a favourable way. All the interviews involved discussing the possible aims and uses of an archive of music for the silents. I initially proposed a model restricted to the Pordenone production. However, during these dialogues the project slowly and spontaneously took the shape of an imaginary archive of all the music that was written to accompany silent features. Several opportunities could arise from such a
collection. Firstly, music students as well as professional composers might use it as a source for references and inspiration for contemporary silent film music practice. The presence of a library of music in Pordenone could also invite the musicians to reconsider more frequently the possibility of reconstructing music compilations based on cue sheets. Cue sheets, in fact, started to be circulated around 1909 (Hoffman, 1970: 13) and deeply affected the musical routines in the main film theatres until the shift over to synchronized sound that began in earnest around 1927. During Le Giornate, however, there have been very few cases of performances based on original cue sheets until now. It is easy to understand why this has been so: as silent film music specialist and conductor ǡ ǲ drawbacks. If a musician did not have a piece cited by the cue sheet, a substitution had to be made. An enormous library of in Ǥǳ ȋǡ ͳͻͺͺǣ ȌǤ ǡ ǲȏȐ ȏǥȐ ȏǥȐ ǳȋȌǤ in the present age of global communication it could seem superfluous to rely on a single library, at least as far as the realization of cue sheets is concerned. The Internet could offer many more avenues of research, if a wanted document happened to be missing. Moreover, to meet the usual requirements of traditional cue sheets, this library could collect not only music for silent films, but also a large repertoire of classical music and popular tunes. A contemporary library of music for the silents should thus be able to harbour and manage many different kinds of musical texts, whilst also offering the possibility of easy connection and exchange of documents with other relevant music libraries worldwide. Returning to the musical production specific to Le Giornate, it is quite clear that as it would have been made identifiable and accessible, it would become easier to gradually recognize it as a coherent whole: a kind of repertoire. This would reinforce the already evident tendency of Le Giornate towards the Ǯ ǯ ǡ talents devoted to fostering a characteristic discipline in composition and improvisation. The availability of the music produced in Pordenone through an organized collection of scores (or other documents) would make much easier the task of critics and scholars wanting to describe the Ǯ Ǥǯ ǡ
Ǯ-‐ǯ school, the archive could simultaneously become a good premise for a more careful consideration of silent film music (and of film music in general). The archive would of course also address the needs of film music scholars. The single scores might be examined in their individuality, to analyze the way in which a composer interpreted the visual language of a certain silent film. But furthermore there would be room for comparative studies, as many of the scores written for Pordenone replaced previous musical works that were composed Ǯǯ Ǥ present-‐day musicians and their old-‐time colleagues, by looking at how they dealt with the same moving images. The Pordenone archive would thus offer to scholars an unprecedented amount of material to be used as a reference in the study of the evolution (or, better, of the transformation) of the audiovisual language. To this panorama of hypotheses brought in to stimulate the discussion, the musicians answered with the weight of their professional experiences. A remark by John Sweeney was particularly thought-‐provoking: the pianist noticed how even if Le Giornate (and the other Festivals or institutions that work to preserve silent films) are constantly trying to revive an old practice of film music with the best accuracy, it cannot be forgotten that this practice is being brought on by contemporary musicians, with a contemporary musical education and a professional background that is completely different from that of their pioneering colleagues. The silent musicians of the present day, for example, are usually travelling artists: they go where their competences are required. This is a consequence of the fact that the jobs of the accompanist or of the composer for silent films are nowadays quite rare (the resident accompanists of the Cinémathèque Royale de Belgique are one relevant exception) whereas in the golden age of the silents every big theatre (especially in the U. S. A.) had its resident pianist/organist, composer/conductor and orchestra. Le Giornate is thus only one of the main stops on a never-‐ending international tour. So, in order to be effectively used as a resource for compilations or for film presentations in general, the eventual archive of music of Pordenone should be a collection that could be fully accessible from outside its geographical confines. Again, it seems that the Internet needs to play a pivotal role in the management of an archive of this kind; not only in order to virtually expand the material
collection of documents by connecting with other libraries, but also to make the archive meet the needs of professionals at work in many different countries and cities. Ǥǯs advice about the need for the silent film musician to be properly considered as a contemporary musician compelled me to consider further the ideal contents of an archive of music Ǥ ǯ musicians, Gabriel Thibaudeau. His lessons at the 2009 Masterclasses often brought out an important issue that is often forgotten by film historians or music experts. Simply put, the contemporary silent film accompanist has much more music to choose from than its colleagues from one hundred years ago. The musical discoveries of the twentieth century provide a rich playground to the invention of improvisers and composers. It would not be reasonable to ignore these expressive possibilities only because musicians of the silent era did not know of them or would not have been at ease in using them. Thibaudeau himself often experiments in using the piano in unorthodox ways, like directly hitting the metallic strings with his hand or knocking on the wood of the instrument, with effective results. These choices are not to be considered as a betrayal of the silent music practice, but as a necessary update of this practice to the modern sensibility: they result in being absolutely ǡ Ǯǯ images and the story of a silent film. So, to let silent musicians (and especially students) explore the possibility of a whole century of music, an archive of music for the silents should also include an anthological collection of the music that was actually produced after the end of the silent era; or, at least, it should be able to guarantee the access (again, most practicably, via the Internet) to affiliated archives of contemporary music. On this last topic Ȃ the kind of contents that would be suitable for the Pordenone archive -‐ one of the interviews I had proved to be particularly enlightening. During an extended talk with Donald Sosin outside the Ridotto of the Teatro Verdi, I asked the musician what kind of musical materials would hypothetically find a place in the archives filed under his name. His answer generated new considerations concerning the archive problem. The list of materials that Mr. Sosin produced as a consequence of his work as film accompanist includes:
a small amount of music printed on paper; it includes the 2001 score for Le Giornate screening of East Side, West Side (Allan Dwan, 1927), written for violin, cello, clarinet, piano, voice and percussions; and also the 2007 score for Way Down East (David Wark Griffith, 1920) for keyboard and voice;
a large and unspecified amount of MIDI files, especially used to compose the scores for films on DVD;
100-‐120 recordings of improvised performances at Le Giornate; these recordings span from 1993 to the present day, and are in diverse formats (cassette, minidisc, mp3 files, QuickTime files, and some including video);
hundreds of additional recordings made at other venues, including MoMA, Lincoln Center, Bologna, various film festivals, schools, libraries, etc.; again, these exist in a wide variety of formats;
hundreds of personal cue sheets and sketches; as for Le Giornate production, the composer has sketches for about 50 films in two dozen notebooks, and a lesser amount of cue sheets (perhaps 30).
It is indeed very difficult to conceive an effective archival strategy to organize such a Ǥǡ Ǥǯ Ǯǯ usicians. The answer is likely to be positive. Almost all the other musicians I talked with in Pordenone gave me comparable accounts. The only Ǥǯ ǣ ȋ cases of truly special performances) it seems that it is not usual for musicians to keep track of past improvisations. However, even if the artists did not preserve their performances in their private collections, there is still the possibility that recordings were made by other parties present at their performance. As a matter of fact, all the performances at Le Giornate del Cinema Muto since 1990 have been recorded and preserved by the Cineteca del Friuli, the film archive that contributes to the organization of the Festival. Livio Jacob, director of the Cineteca, confirmed that the audio/video recordings of improvisations and performances at Le Giornate are stored in Gemona del Friuli, in a collection that should be carefully studied to verify its grade of completeness and its actual organization.
Silent film music, nowadays, is indeed also recorded music. Many compositions are only available on DVD releases, and they cannot be excluded from the archive only because they do not Ǯǯ of silent films. As I said before, no one walked out of the Verdi because of the loudspeakers: the contemporary archivist of silent film music must have a Ǯǯ silent films. All the archival problems related to such a chaotic situation become even more complex when ǡǮ ǡǯ stage for silent music is an international one. The musicians are from all over the world, and so they are their works. The situation of the historical musical production for silents is not so Ǥǲ ǡ ǡ scattered in private collecǡǡǡ ǳȋǡ ͳͻͻǣȌ and it is reasonable to assume that this is still valid in 2010. Scattered is the keyword: after all, film ȋ Ȍ ǲ ǳ (Odegard, 1976: 155). In 2010, silent film music has many shapes (much more than it had before 1927) and many places, but a clear path to walk through this confusion of inestimable value is as yet nowhere to be found. * Any path needs a starting point. At the end of the interviews with the musicians in Pordenone, the initial idea of an archive limited only to the production at Le Giornate (momentarily put aside to discover all the opportunities of a fully comprehensive archive) resurfaced. Before that, however, ǥ The day before the official end of the Festival, a series of conversations I had with David Robinson, Livio Jacob and Paolo Cherchi Usai led to a press release that was published on Le Giornateǯ website on October the 10th. That short text was a formal announcement regarding the foundation
of an archive of music for silent films in Pordenone.3 It is clear from this announcement that the organization of Le Giornate wishes to sustain the creation of an archive that goes beyond the sole classification of the musical productions of the Festival. ǯ ǡ Visual Arts and Music of the University of Padova. The University, through Prof. Alberto Zotti, guaranteed full support to this enterprise, especially on the technical side. The CMELA (University Multimedia and E-‐Learning Center) is at present already working on a survey relating to the strategies that could lead to a fruitful implementation of the latest computer technologies within the structure of the archive. Finally, Prof. Zotti suggested taking advantage of my current Ph. D. research about music for silent films to study an opportune archival strategy, while putting the creation of this archive in context with the studies and the concrete cases that, until now, have faced similar problems of preservation of musical materials. Following on from these developments, it is obvious that the archive project is no longer pure speculation, but rather a realistic possibility with concrete foundations. That said, it would have not been possible to think of dealing with such a complex venture without the perspective of a long period of research and study ahead. The development of a dedicated Ph. D. thesis would allow for such an effort. The combined support of both the University of Padova and Le Giornate del Cinema Muto for this project could also encourage communication with other institutions whose cooperation in this venture would be of central importance. The possibility of a dialogue with the FIAF, International Federation of Film Archives, has already been considered in Padova, with other important interlocutors for this project being any of the film archives or museums that have already tried to preserve music for silent films. A Pordenone archive with its projected archival methodology should not be conceived without considering all the experiences in film music preservation that have already been made. Even if a comprehensive archive devoted exclusively to film music does not yet exist, there are many 3
The press release is available at the http://www.cinetecadelfriuli.org/gcm/giornate/comunicati/comunicati_2009.html#10ottobre2009_27
examples of partial collections. Most of these are situated in the U. S. A.: the leading institutions in this field being the Museum of Modern Art in New York and the Library of Congress. On the West Coast, mention must be made of the library of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Science in Los Angeles, and the libraries of various Californian Universities, such as the University of California at Los Angeles, the California State University at Long Beach and the University of Southern California. As a matter of fact, Le Giornate has already had contacts with some of these institutions in the past. Le Giornate has communicated with the MOMA and the Library of Congress through silent film music specialist Gillian B. Anderson, who has on more than one occasion supervised and conducted musical accompaniments for screenings at Le GiornateǤǤǯ s especially pertinent to the topic of the present paper, as she is the author of one of the very few catalogues of music for the silents Ȃ Music for Silent Films 1894-1929: A Guide. Her catalogue covers the collections of both the MOMA and the Library of Congress, and is based on a microfilm transfer of the materials that dates back to 1988. Ǥ ǯ Guide remains as an indispensable bibliographic reference, a starting point for anyone who works on silent film music archives today. However, its structure no longer meets the requirements of a present day archive. The Guide is in fact an alphabetical list based on film titles. Every item is accurately identified by a maximum of 20 parameters (Anderson, 1988: x) that include also details of instrumentation and copyright registrations: however, the list does not divide printed scores from sketches or cue sheets. Such an organization can surely be effective for a collection of relatively moderate dimensions (the Guide has 1047 voices), but can present many drawbacks if used to organize larger amounts of items. Nonetheless, in order to begin on the sort of archive that has been discussed above, it is logical (and realistic) to firstly concentrate on reducing the problem to a more manageable level. Given the complicated situation of the silent film music repertoire, and the sparseness of the materials, it seems reasonable to inaugurate work on this project by starting from a smaller collection that could nevertheless represent a good model for the whole archive in the future. Here is where my initial idea of an archive restricted in the first place to the music for Le Giornate resurfaces.
* Â Reviewing Â all Â of Â the Â considerations Â that Â emerged Â from Â my Â interviews Â with Â the Â musicians Â and Â from Â an Â initial Â survey Â of Â thÂ‡ ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ–Â—Â”Â‡ ÂƒÂ?Â† ÇŽÂ…ÂƒÂ•Â‡ Â•Â–Â—Â†Â‹Â‡Â•ÇŻ Â’Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Â– Â–Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â–Â‘Â’Â‹Â…ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‹Â”Â•Â– Â•Â–Â‡Â’Â• Â‘Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â’ÂƒÂ–ÂŠ Â–Â‘Â™ÂƒÂ”Â†Â• Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â‡ Â‹Â‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡ÇŻÂ• Â?Â—Â•Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽ ÂƒÂ”Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â˜Â‡ Âƒ Â”Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂ‹Â–Â› Â„Â‡Â‰Â‹Â? Â–Â‘ Â‡Â?Â‡Â”Â‰Â‡ÇĄ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â…ÂƒÂ? Â„Â‡ summarized Â as Â follows: Â Â Â -Ââ€?
To Â collect Â relevant Â documents Â connected Â with Â music Â for Â silent Â films; Â this Â needs Â to Â be Â done Â through Â direct Â contacts Â with Â the Â legal Â owners Â of Â these Â items Â (musicians, Â archives, Â museums Â etc.); Â
To Â organize Â this Â collection Â in Â a Â simple Â but Â effective Â way, Â assigning Â every Â item Â to Â an Â opportune Â category Â (printed Â scores, Â hand Â written Â scores, Â cue Â sheets, Â audio Â recordings, Â audio/video Â recordings, Â etc.); Â
To Â create Â an Â electronic Â database Â version Â of Â the Â catalogue Â of Â the Â collection, Â accessible Â through Â a Â search Â engine Â with Â advanced Â search Â options; Â
To Â create Â a Â digital Â copy Â of Â every Â item Â of Â the Â archive, Â an Â make Â it Â accessible Â online; Â
To Â give Â accessibility Â to Â other Â digital Â music Â archives Â in Â the Â world, Â also Â considering Â the Â Â’Â‘Â•Â•Â‹Â„Â‹ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â›Â–Â‘Â…Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â‡ÂƒÇŽÂ?Â‡Â–Âƒ-Ââ€?Â•Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â…ÂŠÇŻÂ‡Â?Â‰Â‹Â?Â‡ÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‡Â–Â‘Â„Â”Â‘Â™Â•Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ”Â‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÂ?Â—ÂŽÂ–Â‹Â’ÂŽÂ‡Â…Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÂƒÂ– once. Â Â Â
An Â archive Â with Â such Â features Â seems, Â at Â present, Â to Â be Â the Â best Â solution Â to Â meet Â the Â requirements Â of Â all Â the Â potential Â users: Â musicians, Â students, Â scholars Â or Â simple Â aficionados. Â The Â access Â to Â the Â more Â advanced Â functions, Â and Â in Â particular Â to Â the Â full Â digitalized Â collections, Â should Â be Â granted Â Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›Â–Â‘ÇŽÂ’Â”Â‘ÂˆÂ‡Â•Â•Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂŽÇŻÂ—Â•Â‡Â”Â•ÇĄÂ™ÂŠÂ‘Â—Â•Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ”Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â˜Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â”Â™Â‘Â”Â?Ç¤ÂŠÂ‡Â—Â•Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â’Â‘Â•Â•Â‹Â„Â‹ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â‹Â‡Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ Internet Â could Â really Â be Â the Â only Â way Â to Â go Â over Â the Â problem Â of Â the Â ÇŽsparsenessÇŻ Â of Â the Â repertoire: Â as Â Marks Â already Â said Â in Â 1997, Â Â Â Â Â [g]iven Â the Â costs Â of Â acquiring, Â cataloguing, Â and Â maintaining Â such Â collections, Â for Â many Â years Â to Â Â…Â‘Â?Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ› ÂˆÂ‡ÂƒÂ•Â‹Â„ÂŽÂ‡ ÂƒÂ’Â’Â”Â‘ÂƒÂ…ÂŠ Â?ÂƒÂ› Â„Â‡ Â–Â‘ Â•Â–Â”Â‹Â˜Â‡ ÂˆÂ‘Â” Âƒ Ç˛Â™Â‡Â„Çł ÂƒÂ”Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â˜Â‡ÇŁ Âƒ Â…Â‘Â‘Â’Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â˜Â‡ Â?Â‡Â–Â™Â‘Â”Â? Â‘Âˆ studios Â aÂ?Â†Â‹Â?Â•Â–Â‹Â–Â—Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•Č?ÇĽČ?Ç¤ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â†Â‡ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂ›Â•Â‡Â‡Â?ÂˆÂƒÂ”-Ââ€?fetched, Â but Â it Â is Â not Â inconceivable, Â given Â the Â loose Â bonds Â which Â already Â link Â the Â American Â Film Â Institute Â to Â the Â Library Â of Â Congress, Â and Â the Â Â™Â‘Â”ÂŽÂ†ÇŻÂ•ÂƒÂ”Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â˜Â‡Â•Â‹Â?Â–Â‘ÂƒÂ? Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂŽ Â‡Â†Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Č‹ÂƒÂ”Â?Â•ÇĄÍłÍťÍťÍšÇŁÍš-Ââ€?8). Â
The dialogue between Le Giornate and of the University of Padova with archives and similar institutions will, of course, be crucial. However, as the vital starting point for this project, Pordenone must begin by developing and maintaining a collection of music for silent films. After ǡ Ǯ ǯǤ must first of all be preserved. Solving the problems of reconstructing Le Giornateǯ llection of all the materials produced by composers and players since 1982, will lead to at least three potential first results: x
In terms of the theoretical backbone of the archive, and thus for my Ph. D. thesis, it will provide a defined gateway to access the vaster issue of silent film music preservation.
At a more practical level, it will lead to the development of problem-‐solving routines related to the acquisition and management of the materials; these routines, tested on a smaller archive, could be essential when the number of items will substantially increase.
ǡ Ǯǯ development of an archive for the silents at Le Giornate del Cinema Muto.
On that final point, the music that this project is going to preserve exists because of cinema, as I said before; however, there is an amount of this music that actually exists because of cinema and Le Giornate del Cinema Muto. Via the foundation of an archive of music for silent film, the Festival Ǯǯ film music preservation. After this first step, it will become less daunting to try to apply the acquired knowledge to an expanded repertoire, going beyond the boundaries of the Festival itself. From all that I have learned about the Festival, it seems natural for Pordenone to become the place where to start an enterprise of this kind. It deserves to confirm, once more, that a place for cinema cannot be complete without a place for music.
References Â Â Altman, Â R. Â (2004), Â Silent Â Film Â Sound, Â New Â York: Â Columbia Â University Â Press. Â Anderson, Â G. Â B. Â (1988), Â Music Â for Â Silent Â Films Â 1894-Â1929: Â a Â Guide, Â Washington: Â Library Â of Â Congress. Â Erdmann, Â H., Â Becce, Â G., Â Brav, Â L. Â (1927), Â Allgemeines Â Handbuch Â der Â Filmmusik, Â Berlin: Â Schlesinger. Â Hoffman, Â Ch. Â (1970), Â Sounds Â for Â Silents, Â New Â York: Â Drama Â Book Â Specialists. Â Lo Â Brutto, Â V. Â (1994), Â Sound-Âon-ÂFilm: Â Interviews Â with Â Creators Â of Â Film Â Sound, Â Westport: Â Praeger Â Publishers. Â Marks, Â M. Â M. Â (1979), Â Ç˛ Â‹ÂŽÂ?Â—Â•Â‹Â…ÇŁÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹ÂƒÂŽÇĄÂ‹Â–Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ–Â—Â”Â‡ÇĄÂƒÂ?Â†Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â?Â–Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ‡Â•Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â…ÂŠÇłÇĄNotes, Â 2nd Â Ser., Â Vol. Â 36, Â No. Â 2. Â Â -Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€?-Ââ€? Â (1997), Â Music Â and Â the Â Silent Â Film, Â New Â York: Â Oxford Â University Â Press. Â Odegard, Â P. Â (1976), Â review Â on Â Vinton, Â J. Â (ed.) Â (1974), Â Dictionary Â of Â Contemporary Â Music, Â New Â York: Â Dutton, Â and Â Cooper, Â M. Â (1974) Â (ed.), Â The Â New Â Oxford Â History Â of Â Music, Â Vol. Â X: Â The Â Modern Â Age, Â 1890-Â1960, Â London: Â Oxford, Â in Â Journal Â of Â the Â American Â Musicological Â Society Â no. Â 19, Â p. Â 155. Â Â Sergi, Â G. Â (2001)ÇĄ Ç˛ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘Â?Â‹Â… ÂŽÂƒÂ›Â‰Â”Â‘Â—Â?Â†ÇŁ Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ›Â™Â‘Â‘Â† Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Âƒ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â‹Â–Â• Â‹Â•Â–Â‡Â?Â‡Â”Â•ÇłÇĄ Â‹Â? Â–Â‘Â?Â‡Â•ÇĄ Ç¤ÇĄ Maltby, Â R., Â (eds.), Â Hollywood Â Spectatorship, Â Berkeley: Â University Â of Â California Â Press, Â pp. Â 121-Ââ€?131. Â Â Simeon, Â E. Â (1995), Â Storia Â della Â Musica Â nel Â Cinema, Â Milano: Â Rugginenti. Â Â
Silent Cinema from abroad: how the Giornate experience can be seen from distant eyes Lila Silva Foster For the past three years Cinemateca Brasileira (São Paulo, Brazil) has organized what I consider to be one of the most important events of the Brazilian film calendar: the Jornada Brasileira de Cinema Silencioso. Since Le Giornate is a direct inspiration for Jornada, the past two editions also screened a special Pordenone program (selected by Paolo Cherchi Usai, Livio Jacob and David Robinson) bringing these events even closer together. The program included films like Lucky Star (Frank Borzage, 1929), Exit Smiling (Sam Taylor, 1926), The Sentimental Bloke (Raymond Longford, 1919), ǯ (Nell Shipman, 1919), among others. The variety of films from different countries and time periods projected during the Jornada made my idea of silent cinema shift from the safe road of the canonical films to the surprising diversity of styles and themes of silent period cinema. The discovery of new aspects of this wide universe is also an experience that resembles the initial and the ongoing drive of Le Giornate del Cinema Muto. The Jornada is an outstanding opportunity for the Brazilian audience, both young and old, to have films screened in the best way possible: good copies from a diversity of international archives with challenging contemporary musical accompaniment. It is also a once in a lifetime chance of actually seeing these movies in a theatrical context. Films need to travel a long and expensive way to arrive in São Paulo making the access to international silent films complicated. Jornada is our ǲ ǳǤ ǲ ǳ economical consequences giving the foreign spectator, apart from the North-‐American and European context, a special outlook on the Le Giornate del Cinema Muto experience. The idea of physical distance will be used here as a starting point to discuss films, some of the Collegium debates and the days spent at the Riddotto and Teatro Verdi.
The foreign spectator: crossing oceanic distances It takes almost a day and a half, two planes and one train to get from São Paulo to Pordenone. The time spent in travelling and the total change of scenery is only a small portion of what it means to ǲ ǳǤ ǡ-‐American and European cinematic culture has always been a strong component of our imagery and culture. Paulo Emilio Sales Gomes Ȃ film critic and historian, one of the founders and maintainers Cinemateca Brasileira in its early years Ȃ had a ǲǳ ǣ ǲNada nos é estrangeiro pois tudo o éǳ ǲ ǳǤ ǲ ǳ Ȅliterature, art, politics and science and cinemaȄis then very present but at the same time remote. It acts as a sort of ideal impossible to achieve but tǯ Ǥ Brazilian culture is surrounded by a sense of displacement and precariousness, a force that moves us to adapt, rearrange and subvert traditions, something that defines us and can be exemplified in countless ways. A growing attention to Brazilian silent cinema, part of a global valorization of silent films, has been of extreme importance but our losses were enormous especially considering our already small fictional production. Brazilian pioneer filmmakers were adapting imported equipments and techniquesȄmany projectors were turned into cameras and imported film stock reacted differently to the intense light of the tropicsȄbut they did not participate on the technological innovation and invention of the period1. The musical accompaniment at Jornada has a much more contemporary grip since we never had a strong tradition of musical accompaniment for silent films: in this case, experimentation sets the tone. In our film schools we read large amounts of English and French historians, the Brazilian silent period has gained more strength in ǲ ǳǡ it is still a very restricted field of interest. Maybe that is why I was so surprised when Richard Abel sat beside me during one of the many screenings during the Giornate. Being close to very important references was a strong point of the week.
Concerning photography, the historian and photographer Boris Kossoy did prove the isolated discovery of the photographic process by the French-‐Brazilian illustrator Hercules Florence in Campinas, Brazil in 1833. KOSSOY, Boris. Hercules Florence - 1833 - a descoberta isolada da fotografia no Brasil (2ª ed.). São Paulo: Duas Cidades, 1980.
As a spectator there was also a great anxiety involved, the fact that you are submersed in daylong projection of many rare titles, which I felt impossible to miss, combined with the time needed for jet-‐ Ǥ ǯ ǯ Cinearte, a very important and influential film magazine published between 1926 and 1942. They ǲ ǳbecause of the time it took for films to be released at the local movie theaters. Their close contact with the promotional materials sent by North-‐American studios probably made the longing sensation even more intense and when the films ended up not being distributed in Brazil they still haunted their imaginations. The Brazilian contemporary viewer is still under the same spell (something that the overwhelming availability of films on the internet provided the Brazilian cinephilia with new viewing possibilities) and the Giornate ǲǳ discoveries. Watching the classic The Ten Commandments (C.B. De Mille, 1923) was just as surprising as the recently discovered ǯ (Kenneth Macpherson, 1929). In this sense, not only the fact of being from a younger generation of cinema aficionados ǲǳ made me a perfect spectator for The Canon Revisited series. As an avid reader of Cinearte, one of the other strong points of the Giornate was also being able to watch some films with actors and directors that had a large repercussion when they were screened in Rio de Janeiro in the late 1920s and early 1930s. The Eagle and The Merry Widow, both of them released in the US in 1925 and screened in Rio de Janeiro in 1926, filled the pages of the magazine with pictures of Rudolph Valentino, Mae Murray and John Gilbert. The same picture of Mae Murray that was used in Giornateǯ catalogue was used as model for the illustration of the cover of ǯs edition n.45 of 1927, bringing a close resemblance to the catalogue itself. The appreciation of the foreign films and stars was not only restricted to the magazine staff though. A special ad anno ǯ features at Casas Almeida, Rua Sete de Setembro, 178, Rio de JaneiroǢ ǲ ǳ ͳͻʹǡ according to the readers, had Rudolph Valentino (116.695 votes) and John Gilbert (99.344) in second and third place as best artists; The Merry Widow (91.902 votes) in third place as best
picture and Cecil B.De Mille (127.337) and Ernest Lubitsch (96.350) in first and third place as best directors. The couple Mae Murray and Valentino from The Eagle got special attention in the article Ǥ ǯ imagery. In the pages of Cinearte, appraisal of North-‐American and European cinema also gave place to many comparisons regarding Brazilian production. American cinema was the model-‐image for the very unstable Brazilian silent cinema and for the ambitions of the few fictional filmmakers scattered around the country, many of them also active followers of Cinearte. The columns written by critics such as Adhemar Gonzaga and Pedro Lima were filled with a thorough knowledge of America cinemaȄthe production structure of the studios, the importance of the screenplay, a careful cinematography and the maintenance of a star-‐systemȄand they campaigned for a Brazilian cinema inspired by this external model. These columns were very influential and worked as an incentive for many directors of the period to shoot fictional pieces since most of the professional filmmakers lived from non-‐fictional production, usually hired by governments and the elite. Even though Cinearte acted as a catalyst for many artists, the ambitions of Brazilian filmmakers and critics was not enough to establish a continuous production or even to surpass the economical difficulties of a cinematographic production that could not withstand the quality and dominance of the foreign product. Also from the reading of Cinearte it is easy to notice that during this period the distribution of North-‐American (Paramount, United Artists, Fox) and European (UFA) companies had already been massively installed in Brazil leaving the Brazilian product in great disadvantage. As an example of the distribution structure that was settled, the copy of Die Geliebte Roswolksy (Quem da mais?) (Felix Basch, 1921), screened in the Divas program and starring Asta Nielsen, had Portuguese intertitles and ǲƬ ǳ had offices in Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo, Baurú and Porto Alegre. The logo of the company brings images of the Brazilian and the North-‐American flag standing side by side and announces the importation of independent films. This copy belonged to Cinemateca Brasileira and as stated in the
ǯ ǣǲ Die Geliebte Roswolksy is one of the few surviving colour positives of a Nielsen film, and was given to the Bundesarchiv-‐Filmarchiv in 1989 by the Cinemateca BrasileiraǳǤThe copy was probably found when, in the late 1980s, films collected by staff members of Cinemateca Brasileira ǲlost ǳ were repatriated to their original countries. Some titles included the early Fritz Lang Das Wandernde Bild (1919) and Kämpfende Herzen, (1921). Cinemateca received in exchange copies of Der Student Von Prag (Stellan Rye and Paul Wegener, 1913), Harakiri (Fritz Lang, 1919) and Der Gang in Die Nacht (F.W. Murnau, 1921). These films were screened in a program dedicated to Early German Cinema during the first Jornada Brasileira de Cinema Silencioso. Many other references to the films, directors, studios and actors can be mentioned. Urania was the distributor of UFA films and an advertisement shows the UFA-‐Eagle spread through many cities, covering the country from North to South: Manaus, Belém, Recife, Belo Horizonte, Rio de Janeiro, Pelotas and Porto Alegre. The review for La Cible (Serge Nadejdine, 1924), from Albatros, brings a big picture of Rimsky in one of his funny poses. ǲ ǳ with a big picture of Pola Negri there is this revealing ǣǲ ǥÀ × ǥǳ ȋǲ ǥ abou ǥǳȌǤ Cinearte has always been a great resource for Brazilian filmographies as well as a fundamental component in the understanding of late Brazilian silent cinema. Not surprisingly, the magazine is mostly filled with pictures of international movie stars and the pages dedicated to the Brazilian ǲ ǳǤ characteristic of peripheral cultures. The idea of distance can also be addressed by other matters that were directly and indirectly debated during the Collegium Sessions. Archival and preservation practices such as the creation of indexation terms for new filmographies, the restoration of color, the complete access to a film and restoration projects are also guided by an ideal in its essence impossible to achieve.
Filling the gaps of historical distance: filmographies, restorations and canonical thinking In the beginning of the documentary Our Inflammable Film Heritage (Mark-‐Paul Meyer, 1994, produced by the Nederland Filmmuseum) excerpts of films from exotic Africa and Asia register the ǲ ǳ ǲfar landsǳǤ as its testimony and shortened the distance between people, places and audiences from different parts of the world and, as we experience it now, from different time periods. At some point the narration links these discoveries to the historical thinking itself: the past is thus a remote continent. ǡ ǯȋ Ǯ ǯ Ȍǡǣ The subject of film history being the destruction of the moving image, its primary goal is to recapture the experience of its first viewers, an empirical impossibility. If put into practice such reconstruction would lead to the obliteration of film history. Its objectives are thus as abstract as any political utopia: neither would have any interest whatsoever if their goals were realized (The death of cinema, p.25). The silent period is this remote continent we try to approach and film history attempts to shorten the distance between present and past. This effort can be described as a ǲ-‐ǳ and this is what also guided the Collegium sessions. If there is a desire in film history of reconstruction of the silent films and its ambiance (that was definitely extremely varied), preservationists, archivists and film historians are obliged to find in the material evidenceȄ preserved films, traditional printing and coloring techniques, research in primary and secondary sources, archaeometryȄways of filling the gaps of historical distance. In general terms, this is what approximated all of the Collegium debates. The investigative and scientific nature of film preservation, for example, was put into place with the discussion about color restoration where not only the research in old guides for tinting and toning, but also recent technology, were used to identify, in order to better reproduce, the chemical components of the dyes used in the past. But practices from the past are not easily adapted for the contemporary reproduction techniques and the reconstruction of colors still relies on the now traditional Desmet
Method which gives the best approximate result regarding the color in the original nitrate copies. Even if it is not possible to reproduce in a large scale the old methods of tinting and toning, the research still provides us with a better understanding of the past. Another important keyword for shortening the distance with the past is contextualization. Projects like the launching of H ǯ The Rose of Rodhesia on the Screening the Past website, accompanied by a critical anthology with several articles, press clippings and historical research, makes it clear that watching films from the beginning of the century is only one, even though major, part of the understanding of cinema. Access to film must also rely on access to information and research. And just as international as Harold Shaw seemed, the maintenance of the website, with the digital archive of the film being hosted in different places, requires a joint international effort that also guarantees international access. Contextualization also provides film preservation practices with problems especially when the subject matter has not been a central issue within the historical debate. This is the case, for ǡ Ǥǲ ǣ ǡǡǳǡ region of Lausanne, denoted the fragility of standard indexing terms when accessing cultural ǲǳǤ films were not fit for the description of amateur films. The cataloguing of local amateur production relied on the creation of new indexing terms to better describe content and to provide proper contextualization and access. The contact with films often makes it clear how classifications, film theory and history operate with generalities that are often put into question when in contact with ǲ ǳ Ǥ ǲ ǳ Ǥ ǲǳǡ intended to reconsider certain dogmas and revisit a series of acclaimed films, also makes clear how history operates with a set of ǲ ǳǤ presented classic canons such as ǯ (Abel Gance, 1919), Der Golem (Paul Wegener, 1920) and The Ten Commandments (C.B. De Mille, 1923) but deviations within certain ways a film can be
canonical. Dom na Trubnoi (Boris Barnet, 1928) is canonical for its unique features within other canonical Soviet films because of the humorous way of dealing with Communist bureaucracy and power structure. Du Skal Aere Din Hustru (Carl Theodor Dreyer, 1925) is a different film when ǯ La Passion de Jeanne ǯ (1928) and Vampyr (1932). Rotaie (Mario Camerini, 1929) is an Italian canon, not particularly well known, but that somehow belongs to the pre-‐history of the Italian Neo-‐realism, movement that outreached the National context and was extremely influential for many other cinematographies. Film reception also plays a very important role in the canonical debate. My enchantment with the modernity of Rotaie, even though it had a strong fascist iconography in the ending, was questioned by an Italian friend that gave me the background discussion involving the film. There is always more than just the film appreciation, but ROTAIE was definitely a strong point of the ǯ program. It is also very interesting to think how National canons, such as one of the most important Brazilian silent films and probably the most famous Brazilian silent film, LIMITE (Mário Peixoto, 1930), would almost certainly be a candidate for a program centered in discoveries rather than The Canon Revisited. From the Collegium deb ǲǳbut an ideal. The content of the historic, scientific and film preservation debate makes it clear how grounded we are in the present and to geographical settings. Historical thinking is guided, in reality, by problem solving, by an intense debate regarding historiography, old and new practices, consolidated notions about film history. On one side, Teatro Verdi is a space devoted to silent cinema, not only because of its architecture and warmth, but also for the clear commitment of guaranteeing the best spectacle with the best copies, the adequate projection speed, a rich catalogue and a good musical accompaniment. The Collegium debates that took place in the Ridotto, on the other hand, bring to light the hard work and the complications involved in the quest for a desired integrity. The everyday life of archives and restoration projects are made of rough hard workȄfinding copies, repairing originals, creating inventory records, cataloguing, organizing documents, maintaining databasesȄ but with great historical implications. Small actions show the way the past is addressed, how
access to silent cinema can benefit from historical research and the effects in the future of current restoration practices. The combǲǳǡ and Il Ridotto is also what makes the Pordenone Festival so rich. The films projected at the Verdi are a direct result of the efforts debated during the Collegium Sessions at the Ridotto. The same movement also makes it inevitable to question: while we are searching for the best methods of reproducing color, while we are seated in a crowded movie theater watching films from over 80 years ago or working to grant access to film and research, what exactly are we longing for? What other distances are we trying to overcome? References: CHERCHI USAI, Paolo The death of cinema: history, cultural memory and digital dark age. London: BFI, 2001. CINEARTE. Rio d ǣ Ø ǲ ǳǡ 1926-‐1942. Available at: www.bjksdigital.museusegall.org.br. GOMES, Paulo Emílio Salles. Cinema: trajetória no subdesenvolvimento. São Paulo: Paz e Terra, 1996. Catalogues: I JORNADA BRASILEIRA DE CINEMA SILENCIOSO. Cinemateca Brasileira, 2007. XXVIII LE GIORNATE DEL CINEMA MUTO. La Cineteca del Friuli, 2009.
Restoring intertitles or intertitling restorations? Possibilities in the restoration, reconstruction and (re)creation of intertitles in the context of Pordenone Sebastian Haller 1. Preliminary thoughts An introduction to a shift of concerns After having several conversations with experienced scholars, archivists and restorers in Pordenone on the very subject, I intended to initiate a comparative survey, displaying the different app Ǣ ǣ Ǯ following solutions [see section 2] do you prefer, if the intertitles were not preserved in their ǯǤ ȋȌ that the restoration process, which is defined through the changing parameters of (1) the preserved film materials (2) the preservation situation of secondary sources and (3) the aim of the restoration, depends on too many individual factors to consider only one single tendency in the whole work of restoration. Therefore, this paper is not going to be concerned with national and institutional tendencies in restoration, but with the possibilities that can be traced through the (empirical) method of structuring the different choices; choices that concern the relation between input (source materials) and output (copy for projection purposes). Furthermore, advantages as well as disadvantages of the diverse decisions are exemplified and commented on by professionals that are (mostly) related to the Giornate del Cinema Muto ǯȋȌ or through their presence and kind advices in Pordenone and via mail in the subsequent weeks. 1 Indications on the historical Production and Preservation
I was glad to receive input from Kevin Brownlow, Giovanna Fossati, Thomas Christensen, Barbara Schütz, Martin Koerber, Annike Kross, Paolo Cherchi Usai, Markus Wessolovski, Casper Tybjerg and Bryony Dixon.
The Â intertitles Â (photo-Ââ€?mechanical) Â mode Â of Â production Â was Â imminently Â different Â to Â that Â of Â picture Â material: Â As Â there Â was Â no Â negative Â intertitle Â material Â the Â title Â cards Â existed Â solely Â as Â positives. Â The Â titles, Â mainly Â distributed Â through Â (three) Â single Â frames Â called Â flash Â titles, Â were Â added Â to Â the Â camera Â negative Â on Â the Â intended Â position Â (or Â at Â least Â their Â position Â was Â indicated Â with Â title Â Â?Â—Â?Â„Â‡Â”Â•ČŒ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â”Â‡Â’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â‡Â† Â•Â‡Â’ÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ–Â‡ÂŽÂ› ÇŽÂ„Â› Â•Â–Â‘Â’Â’Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂŽÂƒÂ•ÂŠ ÂˆÂ”ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â• Â‹Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â’Â”Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â” Â‰ÂƒÂ–Â‡ÇĄ ÂƒÂ?Â† rÂ—Â?Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â‘ÂˆÂˆÂƒÂ•Â?Â—Â…ÂŠÂ’Â‘Â•Â‹Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ÂƒÂ•ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‡Â‡Â†Â‡Â†ÇŻ2 Â for Â the Â final Â projection Â length Â positioned Â once Â again Â within Â the Â positive Â film, Â produced Â for Â Č‚ Â then Â Č‚ Â projection Â purposes3. Â Or Â as Â Kevin Â Brownlow Â puts Â it Â with Â an Â ironic Â sidekick Â on Â the Â silent Â era Â audience Â Č‚ Â Â seeminÂ‰ÂŽÂ›Â?Â‘Â–Â•Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â–ÂƒÂ–ÂƒÂŽÂŽÇŁÇŽhe Â titles Â had Â been Â cut Â into Â the Â actual Â print Â (snapped Â splices Â often Â leading Â to Â a Â holdup Â in Â projection, Â and Â the Â stamping Â Â‘ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â‡Â–ÂƒÂ?Â†Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‰Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂŽÂ‡Â•Â•Â‡ÂŽÂ‡Â‰ÂƒÂ?Â–ÂŠÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ•Ç¨ČŒÇŻ4 Â Â This Â (here: Â rather Â exemplary Â and Â shortened) Â practice Â shows Â that Â the Â historical Â production Â of Â intertitles Â was Â not Â running Â perfectly Â parallel Â to Â that Â of Â the Â picture Â material, Â because Â it Â was Â Č‚ Â also Â considering Â that Â silent Â films Â were Â produced Â to Â be Â assembled Â as Â positive-Ââ€?cut Â films Â Č‚ Â always Â a Â process Â alternately Â controlled Â by Â different Â individuals Â (disconnected Â with Â the Â creatives) Â in Â Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â–Â’ÂŠÂƒÂ•Â‡Â•Â‡Â˜Â‡Â?Â‹ÂˆÂ‹Â–Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›Â…Â‘Â?Â…Â‡Â”Â?Â‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ…Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â•ÇŻÂŽÂ‡Â?Â‰Â–ÂŠÇ¤ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡ÇĄÂ–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â• Č‚ Â compared Â to Â picture Â material Â Č‚ Â were Â less Â fixed Â parts Â of Â a Â film, Â in Â all Â possible Â aspects. Â This Â higher Â chance Â of Â variability Â is Â increased Â by Â the Â distribution Â of Â silent Â films Â to Â foreign Â countries: Â The Â high Â standard Â in Â translating Â intertitles Â nowadays, Â led Â by Â the Â standards Â of Â philology, Â was Â not Â a Â common Â practice Â during Â the Â silent Â era: Â Â Â The Â international Â distribution Â did Â not Â always Â include Â intertitles Â in Â the Â needed Â language, Â so Â local Â and Â anonymous Â translators Â were Â needed Â in Â order Â to Â adapt Â the Â language Â for Â the Â local Â market; Â for Â obvious Â reasons Â without Â connection Â to Â the Â responsible Â creatives Â that Â produced Â the Â film. Â Hence, Â film Â restorers Â still Â struggle Â with Â preserved Â intertitles Â (as Â the Â only Â source Â material) Â that Â show Â a Â translation Â not Â fitting Â to Â the Â originally Â intended Â concept. Â Brownlow Â summarized Â the Â problem Â in Â a Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 2 Â
Â Â”Â‘Â™Â?ÂŽÂ‘Â™ÇĄÂ‡Â˜Â‹Â?ÇŁÂŠÂ‡Â’ÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ†Â‡ÇŻÂ•Â‰Â‘Â?Â‡Â„Â›Ç¤London: Â Knopf, Â 1968. Â p. Â 299 Â Â
Â See Â Mazzanti/Farinelli: Â Il Â restauro Â delle Â didascalie. Â In: Â Scrittura Â e Â Immagine. Â Ed. Â By Â Quaresima/Pitassio. Â Udine: Â Forum, Â 1998. Â Â 4 Â
Â Â Kevin Â Brownlow, Â mail Â to Â the Â author Â [16.10.2009] Â
lecture Ȃ with the paradigmati Ǯ ǯ Ȃ held at the Cinematheque Francaise: Ǯ silent films Ȃ intertitles as we now call them to distinguish them from the subtitles given to foreign language films. Those with the job of translation faced a great responsibility; they had to preserve the spirit if not the exact meaning of the original. But it must have been tempting to play around a little, to become creative, and to try few improvements.ǯ
Ǯ concerned, it was open season. No one was going to compare the original ǡ Ǥǯ5
Restoring intertitles means taking account of those historical indications as they may have been the reason of a films unfortunate variability, which leads to another material specific fact that not only causes variability but a complete loss: Deterioration. During the course of film preservation, intertitles have been cut down to three frames to save material and space (the same practice as with flash titles for international distribution) in order to be able to reproduce the original in case of a needed projection copy. But Ȃ following William K. Everson Ȃ the laboratories put less effort into the production, i.e. the processing did not have to be supervised as attentively as with picture material. The intertitle material, therefore, was not properly cleaned from the chemicals. This inappropriate treatment led to a faster decay than with picture material, which contributed to the deterioration of the intertitle material. With this in Ǯ Ǥ Ǥǯ 6 It is occasionally mentioned that Henri Langlois, the often cited founder of the Cinematheque Francaise, was unaware of the art value of intertitles: he, as a matter of fact, just like many other film curators in 5
Brownlow, Kevin: Those Maddening Intertitles. Draft (Feb 23) for talk at Cinematheque Francaise on Mar 26 1999 by Kevin Brownlow 6
William K. Everson: American Silent Film. New York: Da Capo Press, 1998. P.126
the Â 50s/60s, Â could Â not Â afford Â to Â restore Â silent Â movies Â with Â intertitles Â in Â a Â legible Â length, Â so Â films Â were Â projected Â with Â the Â flash Â titles. Â Therefore Â consciousness Â for Â intertitles Â could Â not Â be Â established, Â until Â they Â had Â been Â projected Â and Â preserved Â in Â a Â proper Â way Â (Belgians Â Noel Â Desmet Â is Â noted Â to Â be Â the Â first Â one Â to Â enforce Â an Â awareness Â of Â the Â importance Â of Â intertitles!), Â even Â though Â ÂƒÂ?Â‰ÂŽÂ‘Â‹Â•ÇŻÂ’Â”ÂƒÂ‰Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â…Â…ÂŽÂƒÂ‹Â?ÇŁÇŽÂ‘Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â™Â‹Â•Â–Â‘Â’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â”Â˜Â‡ÇŻÇ¤ Â Â These Â historical Â modes Â of Â production Â and Â preservation Â do Â have Â an Â effect Â on Â the Â concept Â of Â the Â original: Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Problems Â of Â the Â Original Â Č‚ Â compared Â with Â picture Â material Â Â When Â talking Â about Â the Â restoration Â of Â intertitles, Â it Â becomes Â apparent Â to Â find Â a Â definition Â of Â the Â original. Â The Â common Â sense Â in Â declaring Â the Â original Â (with Â picture Â material) Â was Â to Â set Â the Â camera Â negative; Â for Â the Â obvious Â reason Â that Â it Â marks Â the Â first Â generation Â of Â film Â material, Â the Â (seemingly) Â Â…ÂŽÂ‘Â•Â‡Â•Â–Â–Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â†Â‹Â”Â‡Â…Â–Â‘Â”Â•ÇŻÂ‹Â?Â–Â‡Â?Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÂƒÂ?Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹ÂƒÂŽÂ™Â‹Â–ÂŠphysical Â relation Â to Â the Â scene. Â Â As Â I Â have Â already Â said, Â intertitles Â did Â not Â exist Â in Â the Â form Â of Â a Â negative, Â which Â generated Â problems Â when Â transmitting Â the Â definition Â of Â the Â original Â deriving Â from Â picture Â material. Â The Â solution Â (that Â leads Â to Â a Â multiplicity Â of Â originals) Â remains Â to Â consider Â every Â (positive) Â fragment Â an Â original, Â at Â best Â one Â that Â is Â (maybe Â preserved Â as Â flash Â titles) Â locally Â related Â to Â the Â camera Â negative, Â as Â it Â was Â common Â to Â put Â the Â originals Â inside Â the Â negative Â in Â their Â supposed Â position. Â So Â the Â only Â possible Â idea Â of Â the Â original Â derives, Â in Â this Â context, Â from Â the Â following Â idea, Â verbalized Â by Â Paolo Â Cherchi Â Â•ÂƒÂ‹ÇĄÂ™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠÂ‰Â‹Â˜Â‡Â•Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”Â›ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‹ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â–ÂƒÂ–Â—Â•Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂ?Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽÇŁÇŽÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽÂ˜Â‡Â”Â•Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‹Â•ÂƒÂ?Â—ÂŽÂ–Â‹Â’ÂŽÂ‡ Â‘Â„ÂŒÂ‡Â…Â–ÂˆÂ”ÂƒÂ‰Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â‡Â†Â‹Â?Â–Â‘ÂƒÂ?Â—Â?Â„Â‡Â”Â‘ÂˆÂ†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â–Â‡Â?Â–Â‹Â–Â‹Â‡Â•Â‡Â“Â—ÂƒÂŽÂ–Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â—Â?Â„Â‡Â”Â‘ÂˆÂ•Â—Â”Â˜Â‹Â˜Â‹Â?Â‰Â…Â‘Â’Â‹Â‡Â•ÇŻ7. Â Â Â Digital Â and Â analogue Â restoration Â Â The Â issue Â of Â digital Â restoration Â concerning Â its Â influence Â on Â intertitles Â is Â not Â too Â imminent Â in Â this Â context: Â The Â changes Â that Â have Â evolved Â through Â digital Â restoration, Â or Â rather Â its Â new Â possibilities Â as Â well Â as Â its Â threats Â cannot Â be Â overrated, Â but Â in Â this Â paper Â the Â analytic Â (and Â documenting) Â focus Â concentrates Â on Â the Â human Â mediationÇĄÂƒÂ•ÇŽÂ”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â?Â‰ÂƒÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‹Â?Â’ÂŽÂ‹Â‡Â•Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰ÂƒÂ…Â‘Â’Â›Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂ—Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â–Â‹Â… Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 7 Â
Â Usai, Â Paolo Â Cherchi: Â Silent Â Cinema. Â London: Â BFI Â publishing, Â 2000. Â p.160 Â
film artifact: the authenticity of the new restored copy depends completely on how this copy is made, and the way the copy is made depends, in turn, on how the restorer instructs the process, whatever the process. Whether it is photographic, analog duplication or a digitization, in this Ǥ ȏǥȐ here is still continuity between analog and digital with the accent lying, not on the photographic or digital process, but on the Ǥǯ8 Martin Körber (FHTW, Berlin), involved in the restoration of e.g. Metropolis, claims the following, ǣǮ or digital means is not of importance. Important is the result Ȃ it has to look faithful und must be well-‐Ǥǯ 9 (Translation by the author) The (underestimated) concept of Ontology with intertitles A rather simple fact reveals the multiple possibilities (see section 2) for the restoration, reconstruction or (re)creation of intertitles: If analyzed from an ontological (or realistic) perspective, it becomes obvious that intertitles do not depict anything from the outside world10 Ȃ ǯ-‐related terms: there is no referent whatsoever. The intertitles main appearance carries the form of a text that can possibly be transcribed. On the contrary, picture material (always) depicts something from reality (a referent) that cannot be re-‐enacted or transcribed in a genuine filmic or cinematic way, because it would convey a change of media structure. Hence, intertitles, apart from considering t Ǯǯ object of aesthetic and narrative importance, do not imply this relation, even when taking into consideration that intertitles, generated in the silent era, have been shot with a camera as well. However, William F. Wert implies this ontological split as a semiotic difference when he refers to the dialectic between picture material (a more appropriate term than visuals, because intertitles are perceived visually as well) and intertitles: 8 9
Fossati, Giovanna: From Grain to Pixel. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2009. p. 120 Martin Körber, mail to the author [21.01.2009]
There are (of course) exclusions, e.g. (1) arttitles that interpenetrated text and picture material (2) animations and (3) inserts that are clearly part of the diegesis.
Ǯs view of complete freedom in applying non-‐codified intertitles to the more codified visuals implies a kind of spectator anarchy, however is belied the filmmakers most conscious their craft, whose structural use of the intertitles was both diverse and spec Ǥǯ11
This simplifying statement conveys two important implications: The (non-‐codified) intertitles are, in matters of interpretation, more flexible, because of their (semiotic) status as a text, than pictures, which work as indices, meaning they depict something related to the world. Cutting this excurse short: It is exactly this ontological fact that gives the restorer the opportunity of creating new intertitles ȋ Ǯ ǯ) without harming the narrative structure12: therefore it is possible to convey the artworks integrity Ȃ not in whole but Ȃ as an imaginative relation, even though the authenticity and (anyways vague) relation of the restoration output to the original is diffused and undermined one step further. Apparently no spectator would confuse the textual substitution of a picture with original picture material. So, e.g. substitution and simulation (see section 2) are genuine restoration modes of restoring intertitles without a change of media.13 2. Practical possibilities: restoring, reconstructing and (re)creating intertitles - exemplified on restorations presented in Pordenone Ǯ ǡ ǡǤ ǯǡǮ-‐ ǯȋǲ ǳ ǯ
von Wert, William F.: Intertitles. In: Sight and Sound Vol. 49, No. 2 (Spring 1980). p. 98
This of course shortens the implicit narrative potential of the intertitles graphics e.g. the infamous handmade intertitles of the German Expressionism, connected to the narrative of a whole film (Nosferatu, Caligari, Der Golem etc.). 13
ǣ ǯ toration in any sense neither should it Ǣ ǯ ȋ Ȍ c ontological difference between picture material and intertitles and its possible consequences.
ÂŠÂ‘Â–Â‘Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ›ÇŻÂ•ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‹Â–Â‹Â‡Â•Â™ÂƒÂ•Â…alled), Â so Â that Â it Â may Â dance Â like Â the Â old Â man Â in Â Le Â Masque Â Č?ÇĽČ?Â„Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡ÂŠÂ‡Â„Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â•Â†Â‘Â™Â?Ç¤ÇŻ14 Â
Three Â basic Â indications Â have Â to Â be Â taken Â into Â account Â that Â constitute Â all Â phases Â from Â the Â preliminary Â work Â to Â the Â final Â result, Â i.e. Â a Â print Â for Â presentation Â purposes: Â (1) Â The Â quantity Â and Â quality Â of Â the Â preserved Â film Â materials, Â (2) Â the Â quantity Â and Â quality Â of Â secondary Â sources Â and Â (3) Â the Â aim Â of Â the Â restoration. Â Â Â Â Focusing Â on Â intertitles, Â this Â general Â presetting, Â that Â corresponds Â to Â the Â restoration Â of Â moving Â pictures Â in Â general, Â must Â be Â expanded Â by Â considering Â Č‚ Â following Â Mazzanti/Farinelli15 Â Č‚ Â another Â four Â important Â technical, Â as Â well Â as Â material Â aspects: Â 1.
The Â position Â in Â which Â the Â intertitles Â were Â cut Â in Â the Â original Â film Â (Mazzanti/Farinelli Â are Â proposing Â two Â possibilities: Â (1) Â Different Â copies Â and Â their Â positioning Â of Â intertitles Â can Â be Â compared Â in Â projection, Â following Â Č‚ Â if Â they Â differ Â Č‚ Â one Â of Â the Â possibilities Â or Â (2) Â studying Â the Â material Â characteristics, Â especially Â systems Â that Â Â‹Â?Â†Â‹Â…ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â’Â‘Â•Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ?ÇŽÇŻÇ¤ n Â case Â (2) Â it Â is Â of Â philological Â importance Â to Â read Â those Â indications Â with Â a Â critical Â claim, Â in Â order Â to Â prevent Â mistakes Â in Â positioning Â the Â intertitles.) Â
The Â length Â
The Â graphic Â style, Â e.g. Â lettering Â
The Â text Â Â
Those Â parameters Â play Â a Â crucial Â role Â in Â the Â output, Â because Â most Â professionals Â Č‚ Â concerning Â my Â research Â Č‚ Â do Â not Â prefer Â a Â single Â choice Â (see Â possibilities), Â which Â is Â owed Â to Â the Â material Â source Â constituting Â the Â working Â path. Â Every Â decision Â remains Â individual, Â even Â though Â it Â includes Â a Â discussion Â inside Â a Â group/institution; Â taking Â Annike Â Kross Â (NFM, Â now Â eye Â Film Â Institute) Â as Â a Â
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 14 Â
Â Patalas, Â Enno: Â On Â Wild Â Film Â Restoration. Â In: Â Journal Â of Â Film Â Preservation/56/1998. Â p.28 Â
Â See Â Mazzanti/Farinelli: Â Il Â restauro Â delle Â didascalie. Â In: Â Scrittura Â ed Â immagine. Â Edited Â by Â Pittasio/Quaresima. Â Udine: Â Forum, Â 1998. Â
ǣ Ǯ Ȃ there is no ǯ16. The combination of those parameters is leading to the following, enlisted solutions (The four parameters are of course taken in account and discussed according to the concrete solution). The terms at the end of every single point try to convey the relationship between (1) the restored or newly generated intertitles (output) and (2) the original intertitles (possible input): a. Original intertitles, preserved in their entirety and transferred through digital/analogue techniques Ȃ i.e. transference b. Original lettering generated through digital software/analogue techniques, with genuine text from diverse secondary sources (censor card, production company) Ȃ i.e. simulation c. Completely new lettering with the genuine text from secondary sources (see b) Ȃ i.e. substitution d. Original intertitles from different copies, which (usually) means different lettering Ȃ i.e. eclectic combination without newly generated intertitles e. Selective combination of possibilities a, b, c and d (see above) or combination of all the possibilities a, b and c Ȃ i.e. eclectic combination f. Entirely new intertitles concerning lettering and content Ȃ i.e. arbitrary selection Ǯ ǯ 17, so they do not just objectively reflect on the source materials, i.e. the originally preserved intertitles, they also convey ideas (or even ideologies) of presenting historical film material: Ad a.) Transference Transference, i.e. exclusively using the original intertitles that have been preserved in their entirety, obviously remains the ideal situation for a restoration. A good example Ȃ in the context
Annike Kross, mail to author [25.01.2009] Kevin Brownlow, mail to the author [21.10.2009]
of Â Pordenone Â Č‚ Â Â™Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â„Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÇŽÂŠÂ‡Â‡Â”Â”Â›Â‹Â†Â‘Â™ÇŻÇŁÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â•Â™Â‡Â”Â‡Â…Â‘Â?Â’ÂŽÂ‡Â–Â‡ÂŽÂ› preserved, Â so Â no Â other Â choice Â than Â transference Â had Â to Â be Â taken Â in Â account, Â as Â Markus Â Wessolovski Â (Ă–sterreichisches Â Filmmuseum, Â Vienna) Â assured Â me18. Â Additionally, Â the Â Austrian Â archivist Â emphasized Â the Â often Â problematic Â preservation Â situation Â of Â intertitles Â that Â predetermines Â any Â decision. Â Personally Â Č‚ Â citing Â Wessolovski Â Č‚ Â he Â (and Â his Â institution) Â would Â combine Â different Â intertitle Â materials, Â but Â the Â decision Â should Â take Â the Â quantitative Â relation Â between Â new Â and Â old Â intertitles Â into Â account Â as Â well. Â Â This Â restoration Â practice Â raises Â the Â same Â ethical Â questions Â as Â the Â restoration Â of Â picture Â material Â (e.g. Â to Â what Â extent Â should Â the Â original Â artifact Â be Â influenced Â in Â a Â restored Â version Â etc.), Â as Â ethically Â well-Ââ€?ÂˆÂ‘Â—Â?Â†Â‡Â†Â–Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽÂ‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â•ÂƒÂŽÂ™ÂƒÂ›Â•Â‹Â?Â’ÂŽÂ‹Â‡Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÇŽÂ‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â•ÂƒÂ”Â‡Â’ÂƒÂ”Â–Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Ç˘ nÂ‘Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ’Â”Â‹Â?Â…Â‹Â’ÂŽÂ‡Â•Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â„Â‡ÂƒÂ’Â’ÂŽÂ‹Â‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â’ÂƒÂ”Â–Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Ç¤ÇŻ Â 19 Â (Translation Â by Â Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ—Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â”ČŒÂ’Â”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂƒÂ’Â’Â”Â‘ÂƒÂ…ÂŠÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â‹Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ…Â‘Â—Â”Â•Â‡ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ†Â„Â›Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â†Â‡ÂƒÂ‘ÂˆÇŽÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÂƒÂ•ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽÇŻ-Ââ€? Â even Â in Â the Â process Â of Â restoration. Â It Â is Â of Â course Â a Â matter Â of Â philology Â (or Â knowledge Â of Â historical Â film Â material Â and Â its Â physics) Â to Â recognize Â the Â authenticity Â of Â original Â intertitles, Â even Â if Â they Â are Â entirely Â preserved, Â as Â in Â the Â case Â Â‘ÂˆÇŽÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ‰ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÇĄÂ”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‡Â†Â„Â›Â‡Â˜Â‹Â?Â”Â‘Â™Â?ÂŽÂ‘Â™Č‹Photoplay) Â and Â projected Â in Â PordeÂ?Â‘Â?Â‡Ç¤Â‡Â”Â‡ÇŽÂ™Â‡ÂŠÂƒÂ† all Â the Â content Â of Â the Â titles, Â but Â in Â a Â very Â 1930s Â typeface. Â We Â decided Â to Â reproduce Â the Â typeface Â Â—Â•Â‡Â† ÂˆÂ‘Â” Č?Â?Â‹Â–Â‡Â† Â”Â–Â‹Â•Â–Â•Č? ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• ÂƒÂ– Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â–Â‹Â?Â‡ÇŻ20. Â One Â might Â have Â thought Â about Â dealing Â with Â an Â original Â in Â this Â case, Â but Â it Â turned Â out Â to Â be Â a Â generation Â further, Â maybe Â a Â re-Ââ€?issue Â Č‚ Â this Â proves Â to Â be Â a Â good Â example Â for Â the Â contingence Â Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹ÂƒÂŽÂ…ÂƒÂ—Â•Â‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂ”Â‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÂƒÇŽÂ•Â‹Â‰Â?Â‹ÂˆÂ‹Â…ÂƒÂ?Â–Â˜ÂƒÂ”Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇŻ (see Â Joseph Â Garncarz: Â Filmfassungen) Â in Â its Â graphical Â appearance. Â Coloring Â Intertitles Â Another Â question Â -Ââ€? Â that Â is Â not Â only Â related Â to Â transference Â -Â Â is Â the Â use Â of Â colored Â intertitles: Â Â Coloring Â intertitles Â may Â be Â considered, Â if Â a Â copy Â or Â at Â least Â a Â fragment Â is Â preserved Â that Â can Â be Â
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
Â Interview Â Wessolovski Â [07.10.2009] Â
Â Martin Â Koerber, Â mail Â to Â the Â author Â [20.01.2010] Â
Â Brownlow Â [20.01.2010] Â
used Â as Â a Â comparison Â for Â the Â restoration. Â But Â even Â if Â colored Â material Â is Â available, Â it Â must Â be Â read Â Â…Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ›ÇĄ Â„Â‡Â…ÂƒÂ—Â•Â‡ ÇŽÂ‡Â˜Â‡Â? Âƒ Â’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â”Â˜Â‡Â† Â…Â‘ÂŽÂ‘Â”Â‡Â† ÂˆÂ”ÂƒÂ‰Â?Â‡Â?Â– Â…ÂƒÂ? Â„Â‡ Â™Â”Â‘Â?Â‰ Â‘Â” ÂƒÂ‰ÂƒÂ‹Â?Â•Â– Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂƒÂ—Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â”Â• Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â?Â–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇĄ Â‹Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â› ÂƒÂ”Â‡ Â‡Â˜Â‡Â? ÂƒÂ?Â› Â…ÂŽÂ—Â‡Â• Č?ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â– ÂŠÂ‹Â•Č€ÂŠÂ‡Â” Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â?Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Č?ÇŻ21. Â (Translation Â by Â the Â author) Â Especially Â with Â digital Â techniques Â it Â became Â easier Â to Â restore Â colored Â prints, Â as Â Ulrich Â Ruedel Â (Haghefilm) Â emphasized Â in Â the Â Collegiums Â sessions. Â Nevertheless, Â a Â slight Â qualitative Â difference Â between Â analogue, Â i.e. Â photomechanical, Â and Â digital Â restoration Â persists. Â Kevin Â Brownlow Â referred Â to Â a Â Â•Â‹Â?Â‰Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ” Â‡ÂšÂ…ÂŽÂ—Â•Â‹Â‘Â? Â‹Â? Â…Â‘ÂŽÂ‘Â”Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â•ÇĄ Â™Â‘Â”Â–ÂŠ Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ÇŁ ÇŽ ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡ Âƒ news Â reel Â from Â 1911 Â in Â which Â the Â titles Â alone Â are Â tinted Â red. Â The Â image Â is Â b Â and Â w. Â Very Â odd. Â The Â item Â was Â sensational Â Č‚ Â THE Â SIEGE Â OF Â SIDNEY Â STREET Â Č‚ Â so Â perhaps Â Gaumont Â felt Â they Â should Â give Â Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â—Â„ÂŒÂ‡Â…Â–ÂƒÂ†Â”ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â…Â„Â‘Â‘Â•Â–Ç¤ÇŻ22 Â All Â the Â other Â possibilities Â are Â chosen Â if Â there Â is Â Č‚ Â unfortunately Â Č‚ Â not Â the Â entirety Â of Â intertitles Â preserved: Â Ad Â b.) Â Simulation Â Simulation, Â as Â the Â term Â implies, Â means Â simulating Â the Â original Â lettering Â and Â graphics Â by Â Č‚ Â nowadays Â Č‚ Â scanning Â and Â reproducing Â it Â with Â the Â help Â of Â the Â preserved, Â authentic Â text Â from Â secondary Â sources Â like: Â (1) Â the Â censorship Â card Â Č‚ Â in Â Germany Â and Â Austria Â the Â main Â source, Â but Â also Â depending Â on Â the Â historical Â period Â as Â censorship Â did Â vary Â and, Â as Â Â‘Â‡Â”Â„Â‡Â” Â’Â‘Â‹Â?Â–Â• Â‘Â—Â– ÇŽÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â› Č?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â…Â‡Â?Â•Â‘Â”Â•ÂŠÂ‹Â’ Â…ÂƒÂ”Â†Â•Č? have Â to Â be Â read Â in Â a Â critical Â manner, Â because Â they Â do Â have Â spelling Â mistakes Â and Â some Â details, Â like Â Â“Â—Â‘Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â?ÂƒÂ”Â?Â•ÇĄÂƒÂ”Â‡Â?ÇŻÂ–Â‹Â?Â…ÂŽÂ—Â†Â‡Â†ÇŻ23 Â (Translation Â by Â the Â author), Â (2) Â the Â Production Â company, Â which Â Č‚ Â referring Â to Â Thomas Â Christensen Â (Danish Â Film Â Institute) Â Č‚ Â is Â the Â main Â source Â in Â Denmark24, Â (3) Â the Â script Â or Â the Â literary Â text Â (as Â Jan-Ââ€?ÂŠÂ”Â‹Â•Â–Â‘Â’ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ?Â”Â‡Â’Â‘Â”Â–Â•Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÇŽÂ‹Â‡ÂˆÂ”Â‡Â—Â†ÂŽÂ‘Â•Â‡
ÂƒÂ•Â•Â‡ÇŻČŒÇĄÂ‡Â˜Â‡Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÂ‹Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ•Â–Â‘Â„Â‡Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ†ÂƒÂ?Â†Â—Â•Â‡Â†Â˜Â‡Â”Â›Â…ÂƒÂ”Â‡ÂˆÂ—ÂŽÂŽÂ›ÇĄÂƒÂ?Â†ÂˆÂ—Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â?Â‘Â”Â‡Č‹ÍśČŒÂ‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â•Â‘Â—Â”Â…Â‡Â• that Â would Â guarantee Â a Â faithful Â text Â like Â translations Â of Â international Â releases. Â (Problems Â with Â the Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 21 Â
Â Koerber Â [21.01.2010] Â
Â Brownlow Â [16.10.2009] Â
Â Koerber Â [21.01.2010] Â
Â Interview Â Thomas Â Christensen Â [09.10.2009] Â
authenticity Â of Â translations Â in Â internationally Â released Â copies Â have Â been Â mentioned Â earlier Â in Â section Â 1.) Â The Â advantages Â are Â quite Â obvious: Â It Â ensures Â that Â the Â result Â offers Â -Ââ€? Â through Â the Â newly Â generated Â intertitles Â Č‚ Â continuity Â in Â the Â lettering Â style Â and Â furthermore Â an Â increased Â legibility Â as Â the Â frame Â line Â remains Â fixed Â and Â the Â color/grade Â (may Â it Â be Â b/w Â or Â colored Â in Â some Â way Â as Â tinted/toned Â etc.) Â is, Â of Â course, Â stable. Â This Â practice Â appears Â to Â be Â the Â modus Â operandi Â for Â a Â lot Â of Â professionals Â and Â institutions: Â bryony Â Dixon25 Â (British Â Film Â Institute), Â told Â me Â about Â the Â necessary Â software, Â capable Â of Â generating Â new Â intertitles Â with Â the Â original Â lettering26. Â Barbara Â SchĂźtz Â (Bundesarchiv-ÂFilmarchiv) Â and Â Giovanna Â Fossati Â (eye Â Film Â Institute) Â use Â a Â similar Â device, Â just Â as Â a Â lot Â of Â other Â professionals. Â Paolo Â Cherchi Â Usai27 Â considers Â it Â the Â best Â way Â of Â presenting Â a Â newly Â made Â restoration Â that Â struggled Â with Â severe Â losses Â of Â original Â material. Â Â The Â simulation Â makes Â it Â important Â to Â have Â a Â reliable Â source Â like Â (1) Â flashtitles, Â which Â were Â added Â to Â the Â film Â with Â just Â three Â frames Â in Â order Â to Â save Â film Â material, Â mainly Â when Â distributed Â internationally Â to Â pay Â less Â portage, Â or Â (2) Â artifacts Â of Â intertitles. Â According Â to Â Mark-Ââ€?Paul Â Meyer, Â there Â is Â a Â flaw Â in Â the Â aesthetic Â of Â reception Â with Â the Â simulation Â (i.e. Â Â?Â‡Â™ÂŽÂ› Â‰Â‡Â?Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â† Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â• Â‹Â? Â‰Â‡Â?Â‡Â”ÂƒÂŽČŒÇŁ ÂŠÂ‡ Â”Â‘Â„ÂŽÂ‡Â? Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÇŽÂˆÂŽÂƒÂ™ÂŽÂ‡Â•Â•ÇŻ Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Ç¤ ÇŽÂŠÂ‡ Â‡ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â…Â– Â‘Âˆ Âƒ ÂˆÂ”Â‘ÂœÂ‡Â? Â•ÂŽÂ‹Â†Â‡ Â‹Â• Â“Â—Â‹Â–Â‡ Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‹Â…Â—ÂŽÂ– Â–Â‘ ÂƒÂ˜Â‘Â‹Â†ÇŻ28. Â (We Â will Â encounter Â this Â problem Â again Â with Â the Â substitution, Â even Â Â?Â‘Â”Â‡ Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â?Â•Â‡ÇĄ Â„Â‡Â…ÂƒÂ—Â•Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â› Â†Â‘ Â?Â‘Â– Â‡Â˜Â‡Â? ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• ÇŽÂ‰ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â’Â•Â‡ÇŻ Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽ through Â scanning Â the Â graphics.) Â Â—Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â?Â‘Â”Â‡ÇĄÂ?Â?Â‹Â?Â‡Â”Â‘Â•Â•Â”ÂƒÂ‹Â•Â‡Â•Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ“Â—Â‡Â•Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÇŁÇś Â†Â‘Â?ÇŻÂ–Â”Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ›Â…Â‘Â?Â•Â‹Â†Â‡Â”Â•Â…ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â–Â›Â’Â‡ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â‡ Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂƒÂŽ Â…Â‘Â”Â”Â‡Â…Â–Ç¤ Â…Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â‡ Â•Â‘Â?Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‰ Â?Â‡Â™ÇĄ Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠ Â™ÂƒÂ•Â?ÇŻÂ– Â’ÂƒÂ”Â– Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽÇ¤ Â–ÇŻÂ• Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•ÂƒÂ?Â‡ Â‹Â? Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â” Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 25 Â
Â Interview Â Bryony Â Dixon Â [07.10.2009] Â
Â Ibid. Â
Â Interview Â Paolo Â Cherchi Â Usai Â [08.10.2010] Â
Â Meyer, Â Mark-Ââ€?Paul: Â Restoration Â of Â Motion Â Picture Â Film. Â Oxford: Â Butterworth-Ââ€?Heinemann, Â 2000. Â p.73 Â
restoration Â fields Â (paintings, Â ceramics, Â paper, Â photographÂ›ÇĽČŒÇ¤ Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â•Â‡ÂˆÂ‹Â‡ÂŽÂ†Â•Â‹Â–Â‹Â•Â…ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â†ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â—Â–Â”ÂƒÂŽ Â”Â‡Â–Â‘Â—Â…ÂŠÇ¤ÇŻČ‹Â”ÂƒÂ?Â•ÂŽÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â„Â›Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ—Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â”ČŒ Â A Â superb Â example Â Č‚ Â in Â the Â context Â of Â Pordenone Â Č‚ Â Â™ÂƒÂ• Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‘Âˆ ÇŽÂ‡ ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â– Â†Â‡ ÇŻÂ?Â‘Â—Â” Â”Â‹Â‘Â?Â’ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â–ÇŻÂ†Â‘Â?Â‡Â„Â›Â–ÂŠÂ‡Cinematheque Â Francaise. Â The Â redone, Â and Â therefore Â simulated Â intertitles, Â showed Â the Â genuine Â and Â effectfull Â design Â (a Â frame Â displaying Â the Â outlines Â of Â a Â castle) Â that Â appeared Â in Â the Â original. Â Ad Â c.) Â Substitution Â The Â main Â differences Â of Â a Â substitution Â in Â relation Â to Â a Â simulation Â is Â (1) Â the Â missing Â adaption Â (scanning) Â of Â the Â original Â intertitle Â and Â (2) Â the Â creation Â of Â new Â intertitles, Â with Â no Â relation Â to Â the Â original Â intertitle Â whatsoever. Â This Â practice Â might Â be Â the Â result Â of Â (1) Â a Â missing Â a Â flash Â title Â or Â fragment Â to Â compare/scan Â or Â (2) Â a Â conscious Â (and Â yet Â individual) Â aesthetic Â choice, Â because Â e.g. Â a Â number Â of Â different Â intertitle Â materials Â have Â been Â preserved Â and Â therefore Â the Â restorer Â attempts Â to Â avoid Â a Â restoration Â combining Â inconsistent Â graphic Â styles. Â As Â with Â the Â simulation, Â it Â is Â important Â to Â be Â in Â the Â position Â of Â having Â a Â reliable Â Č‚ Â but Â critically Â read Â Č‚ Â secondary Â source Â (censorship Â cards, Â files Â from Â the Â Production Â Company Â etc.). Â Similar Â to Â the Â simulation, Â the Â substitution Â offers Â the Â possibility Â of Â continuity Â and Â legibility, Â but Â the Â authenticity Â and Â relation Â to Â the Â original Â is Â thereby Â obfuscated Â and Â the Â aspired Â continuity Â between Â the Â two Â is Â disrupted. Â But Â Č‚ Â remembering Â what Â Kross Â said Â about Â the Â problem Â of Â simulating Â a Â certain Â lettering Â Č‚ Â Â‹Â–Â…ÂƒÂ?Â„Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‘ÂŽÂ—Â–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇĄÂ‹ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â‹Â?Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â†Â‹Â–Â•ÇŽÂ’Â”Â‡Â–Â‡Â?Â†Â‹Â?Â‰-Ââ€?to-Ââ€?Â„Â‡ÇŻ Â raises Â an Â ethical Â problem Â that Â is Â also Â related Â to Â the Â aesthetics Â of Â reception, Â for Â the Â restorer Â (as Â an Â individual). Â Two Â different Â modes Â of Â using Â substituted Â original Â intertitles Â can Â be Â discussed Â through Â two Â representative Â examples, Â taken Â from Â the Â context Â of Â Pordenone: Â (1) Â The Â DFI Â (Danish Â Film Â Institute) Â follows Â the Â practice Â of Â substituting Â original Â intertitles, Â which Â are Â preserved Â in Â a Â bad Â quality Â as Â well Â as Â quantity, Â as Â Thomas Â Christensen29 Â assured Â me, Â through Â substituting Â new Â intertitles Â with Â a Â neutral Â lettering/design Â that Â does Â not Â convey Â any Â relation Â to Â the Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 29 Â
Â Christensen Â [09.10.2009] Â
original intertitles. This restoration practice has regularly been performed by the DFI in recent ȋǮ ǯȌ strategy Ǥ Ǯ Kompagni [which] survived and are an invaluable source to the wording of the original Ǥǯ30 ǡ Ǯ ǯ Ȃ in a very genuine practice Ȃ in just one frame the English translation as well as the Danish intertitles; Casper Typjerg on the restoration case: 'We were not able to find any German censorship cards, but the archive of the Swedish film censorship board had a complete list of the titles for the Ǥ ǡ ǯ ǡ which contained some title indications, and promotional materials from the Danish premiere of the film, which contained a plot summary with numerous wordings very close to the Swedish censorship list. On the basis of these materials, with the Swedish list as primary source, we created a new title list in Danish and English. In nearly all cases, we were able to find brief jumps in the image where dialogue titles had been left out in the Russian version, giving us considerable confidence in the reliability of the Swedish list.'31 A major advantage with this bilingual presentation is Ȃ apart from the obvious legibility and continuity in lettering/graphics Ȃ the possibility of presenting a 35mm copy in foreign countries without any projected electronical subtitles. (Finish Curator Antti Alanen mentioned the ǣǮ ǡȏȐ subtitles in English and Italian to all the films at Teatro Verdi. They greatly help make (sic) sense ǯ 32.) Hence, English and Danish intertitles combined in just one frame provide the opportunity to present the restoration internationally without the mentioned electronic subtitling device, but Ȃ quoting Brownlow Ȃ Ǯ ȏȐ ǯǤ 30
Christensen, Thomas: Restoring a Danish silent film Ȃ Nedtbrudte Nerver. In: Preserve than show. Edited by Nissen/Larsen. Copenhagen: DFI, 2002. p. 142 31
Caspar Tybjerg, mail to the author [15.06.2010]
that is hard to accomplish but bilingual intertitles can do something in favor of an international presentation. ȋʹȌǮǯǡ Photoplay, represents the second choice in substituting intertitles: Instead of creating a new a-‐historical lettering/graphic, Photoplays responsibles decided on substituting the originals by historically adequate intertitles or like Brownlow describes the process ǡ ǣǮ titles, but in a very 1930s typeface. We decided to reproduce the typeface used for UA [United ȐǤǯ33 So here the intertitles do not serve as a direct reference to the film as an original (as with the simulation that conveys through scanning its explicit connection to the original, preserved as an artifact/flashtitle) but to its historical and (contemporary) aesthetical context. Either way, i.e. substituted intertitles with neutral lettering or historically adequate lettering/graphic, it is (ethically) important to inform the spectator about the interventions by providing the relevant information, e.g. in the leader or at the end of the film. (Although a lot of restorers ǯ ǤȌ Ad d.) e.) Eclectic Combination The eclectic combination is either (1) a selective combination or (2) a combination of all the possibilities discussed above. This choice is mainly, apart from pragmatic reasons that would rather lead to a substitution or a simulationǡ ȋȌ Ǯ ǯǤ ̵ ̵ 34, as Thomas Chris Ǯ ǯ ǯǡ ǯ variability from a contemporary standpoint. (At this point it is important to mention that every restoration should be considered as a contemporary product, as it is common within the archive community!)
It Â is Â a Â practice Â that Â can Â obviously Â be Â usedČ‚ Â as Â one Â of Â the Â choices Â besides Â substitution Â and Â simulation Â Č‚ Â when Â a Â (huge) Â diversity Â of Â intertitles Â was Â preserved Â without Â one Â continuous Â (and Â original) Â style. Â In Â relation Â to Â the Â simulation Â and Â substitution Â it Â offers Â the Â possibility Â -Ââ€? Â in Â such Â a Â difficult Â material Â situation Â Č‚ Â to Â be Â as Â close Â to Â the Â (multiple) Â originals Â as Â possible, Â as Â Annike Â Kross, Â Â”Â‡Â•Â’Â‘Â?Â•Â‹Â„ÂŽÂ‡Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‡Â”Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂŽÂƒÂ–Â‡Â•Â–Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÇŽ ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡ÇŻÇĄÂ’Â‘Â‹Â?Â–Â•Â‘Â—Â–Ç¤ Â Annike Â KÂ”Â‘Â•Â•Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â…ÂƒÂ•Â‡Â‘ÂˆÇŽ ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡ÇŻÇŁ Â ÇŽÂŠÂ‡ Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â– Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡ Â•Â–Â›ÂŽÂ‡Â• Â”Â‡Â•Â—ÂŽÂ–Â‡Â† ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Č‹ÂƒÂŽÂ”Â‡ÂƒÂ†Â›ČŒ Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â– Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡ styles Â in Â the Â source Â materials. Â Inside Â as Â well Â as Â between Â the Â copies Â have Â been Â different Â styles! Â I Â tried Â to Â use Â Č‚ Â whenever Â possible Â Č‚ Â the Â predominant Â style Â that Â derived Â from Â the Â three Â different Â nitrate Â copies Â (but Â not Â exclusively Â as Â well). Â Because Â no Â source Â material Â was Â preserved Â in Â its Â entirety, Â a Â mix Â of Â styles Â was Â obvious, Â which Â is Â a Â normal Â problem Â in Â reconstructing Â films. Â In Â Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘ÂŽÂ† ÇśÂ”Â‡Â…Â‘Â?Â•Â–Â”Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇŽ Â‘Âˆ ÍłÍťÍˇÍš Č?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡ Â„Â‡Â‡Â? Â–ÂŠÂ”Â‡Â‡ Â”Â‡Â…Â‘Â?Â•Â–Â”Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â• Â‘Âˆ ÇŽ ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡ÇŻ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â’Â”Â‡Â…Â‡Â†Â‡Â† Â”Â‘Â•Â•ÇŻ Â™Â‘Â”Â?Č? Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â– Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹ÂƒÂŽÂ• ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡ Â„Â‡Â‡Â? combined Â (but Â there Â are Â no Â written Â records Â dealing Â with Â the Â number Â and Â of Â Â•Â‘Â—Â”Â…Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ?ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â—Â•Â‡Â†Ç¤Č?ÇĽČ? Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â?ÇĄÂ‹Â?Â‰Â‡Â?Â‡Â”Âƒl, Â the Â restorer Â should Â use Â Č‚ Â if Â possible Â Č‚ Â just Â a Â single Â intertitle Â style, Â because Â it Â is Â historically Â more Â faithful. Â To Â combine Â different Â styles Â from Â different Â copies Â just Â because Â of Â Â’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â?Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂŽ Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‘Â?Â• Â‹Â• Â™Â”Â‘Â?Â‰ Â”Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â–Â‹Â…Â‹ÂœÂ‹Â?Â‰Ç¤ÇŻ35 Â (Translation Â by Â the Â author) Â Â
Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂƒÂ•Â‡Â‘ÂˆÇŽ ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡ÇŻÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ eclectic Â combination Â was Â chosen Â because Â of Â two Â reasons: Â (1) Â None Â of Â the Â multiple Â source Â materials Â preserved Â the Â intertitles Â in Â their Â entirety, Â so Â the Â decision, Â facing Â this Â quite Â common Â problem, Â was Â a Â pragmatic Â (and Â noÂ–ÇŽÂ”Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â–Â‹Â…Â‹ÂœÂ‡Â†ÇŻČŒÂ‘Â?Â‡ÇĄÂƒÂ‹Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â–Â‘Â”Â‡Â…Â‘Â?Â•Â–Â”Â—Â…Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡ filmic Â text Â in Â its Â qualitative Â and Â quantitative Â best Â possible Â shape Â Â and Â (2) Â the Â use Â of Â (multiple) Â original Â materials Â comes Â closest Â to Â the Â idea Â of Â the Â original, Â with Â the Â possibility Â of Â displaying Â its Â variability Â (and Â at Â least Â the Â variability Â and Â contingence Â of Â a Â filmic Â text Â in Â general!). Â Â Two Â points Â of Â critique Â have Â been Â verbalized Â that Â concern Â this Â practice: Â (1) Â Different Â restorers Â tend Â to Â avoid Â this Â solution Â because Â it Â is Â missing Â a Â certain Â continuity Â in Â graphics Â and Â lettering Â which Â Č‚ Â in Â the Â critics Â perspective Â Č‚ Â interrupts Â the Â visual Â pleasure, Â especially Â in Â view Â of Â an Â audience Â outside Â the Â circle Â of Â professionals Â in Â filmhistory Â etc. Â and Â (2) Â Â‹Â–Â‹Â•Â„Â‡ÂŽÂ‹Â‡Â˜Â‡Â†Â–Â‘Â„Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ’Â”Â‘Â„ÂŽÂ‡Â?ÇŁÇŽÂŠÂ‡ current Â trend Â recognizes Â the Â substantial Â impossibility Â of Â an Â interpenetration Â of Â the Â different Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 35 Â
Â Kross Â [25.01.2010] Â
ǡǮǯǡ putting together images, shots and intertitles that have never coexisted on the scǤǯ36 This ethical criticism might be appropriate, but displaying a reconstructed version with the goal of being the most complete so far, necessitates a consideration of ethical implications: Remembering ǯ ȋrestaurateur archeologue - restaurateur artistique), referring to ǯǡǮ ǯ ǯ ȋȌrestaurateur archeologue. Ad f.) Arbitrary Selection The last -‐ and ethically the least justifiable -‐ possibility is an arbitrary selection that is rarely performed, but if so, it is mainly the practice of commercial restoration projects, which do not consider the ethical implications of their intervention, justified with regard to the spectator. Aside from those possibilities there are other concerns that have to be considered during the restoration process, namely Signs and Length: Signs/Labels for newly generated intertitles Another problem comes into play, especially when original and new intertitles are combined: Should a sign indicate the newly generated intertitles as an intervention made by the restorer or institution? And how, if no sign is used, should the newly generated intertitles be distinguishable from the original ones? Basically there are two possibilities with signs: (1) An (institutional) sign on all the new intertitles: Paolo Cherchi Usai proposed this solution referring to the restorations of the George Eastman House. It ensures that the spectator, who has no access to the restorations metadata, is always informed of the interventions made by the restorer; on the other hand, critics consider it an interference in the visual pleasure. Barbara Schütz thinks that Ǯǯǡ original intertitles (or different sources in general) at all, because visual logic would imply the intervention anyways. But Ȃ still quoting Mrs. Schütz Ȃ if the restoration is combining different
Mazzanti, Nicola: Footnotes. In: Restauro, Conservazione e Distruzione dei Film. Milano: Ed. di Castoro Milano, 2001. p.29
sources, intertitles generated by the restorer should have a label or at least an introduction that provides the relevant information37. (2) No sign, but graphical indications instead: Martin Koerber, representing the main ǣǮ ǯ ǡ newly generated. You can provide this fact with an obligatory editorial note at the header. Then ǯ Ȁ Ǥǯ38 (Translation by author) This view is shared by a lot of other professionals: bryony Dixon (BFI) points out that her ǯ different color for the new intertitles39. To conclude: As newly generated intertitles are always split from the historical gap in terms of the graphics, they (mostly!) explicitly show their newly created intervention while the metadata records relevant intervention. Furthermore, important information at the head of the film should be provided anyways (Before metadata was common sense, intertitles from restored versions have been incomprehensible, concerning their status as originals or newly generated, e.g. the Ǯ ǯ ǯ done in 1957 did not imply the different sources that have been combined.) Length The number of frames per intertitle constitutes the screening speed of the (restored) copy. If the number of x frames is (in its length) optimized for a projection speed xΌ (e.g. 20 f/s) a screening ε Ό ȋ Ȍǡ δ Ό rhythm of a scene in a negative way (too slow). This shows the importance of handling and calculating the length of intertitles. In the silent era it was common to calculate a second per word (number of frames would have been more precise due to the different projection speeds) plus five seconds added to the whole
Interview Barbara Schütz [09.10.2009]
see Busche, Andreas: Ethics in Moving Image Restoration, MA Dissertation. p.71
projection Â time Â in Â respect Â of Â the Â slower Â readers40. Â Restorers Â nowadays Â have Â quite Â similar Â Â‰Â—Â‹Â†Â‡ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡Â•Ç¤Ç¤Â‰Ç¤Â”Â‘Â•Â•ÇŁÇŽÂ?Â‡Â”Â—ÂŽÂ‡Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ—Â?Â„Â‹Â•Â’Â‡Â”ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡Í´Č‹Â•Â‡Â…ČŒÂ–Â‹Â?Â‡Â•ÍłÍşÇ¤Â•ÍłÍşÂˆÂ”ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â•Č€Â•Â‡Â…Â‘Â?Â†Â‹Â•Â‘Â—Â” default Â screening Â speed Â for Â silent Â film. Â If Â the Â line Â is Â very Â short Â (little Â words/big Â font), Â I Â confirm Â the Â before Â mentioned Â calculation Â by Â reading Â the Â text Â in Â my Â head Â and Â timing Â the Â time Â I Â need Â to Â do Â so. Â Â‘Â?Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‰Â‹Â?Â„Â‡Â–Â™Â‡Â‡Â?Â‹Â•Â?Â‘Â•Â–ÂŽÂ›Â”Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â•Â‡Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â•Ç¤ÇŻ41 Â The Â decision Â on Â the Â length Â of Â intertitles, Â even Â if Â the Â original Â ones Â are Â preserved, Â is Â not Â always Â led Â from Â a Â historical, Â but Â rather Â from Â a Â modern Â standpoint, Â which Â focuses Â on Â the Â current Â spectator: Â As Â I Â have Â already Â said, Â the Â length Â is Â of Â great Â importance Â for Â the Â whole Â rhythm Â of Â a Â film. Â Considering Â that Â modern Â viewers Â of Â silent Â cinema Â do Â have Â a Â higher Â education Â than Â the Â average Â historical Â audiences Â (there Â is Â no Â empirical Â survey Â on Â this Â question Â but Â the Â thought Â is Â apparent) Â it Â becomes Â clear Â that Â in Â todays Â restorations Â the Â intertitles Â are Â supposed Â to Â be Â shorter Â (in Â the Â projection Â time). Â This Â poses Â to Â be Â an Â interesting Â exception Â in Â restoration, Â when Â considering Â that Â even Â restorers Â with Â high Â philological Â standards Â are Â supporting Â this Â solution, Â which Â is Â facing Â a Â conscious Â historical Â shift Â in Â audiences. Â Â 3.
Conclusion Â ÇŽÂ—Â‡Â”Â‡Â•Â–ÂƒÂ—Â”Â‡-Ââ€?t-Ââ€?on: Â une Â pellicule Â ou Â un Â spectacle, Â autrement Â dit, Â un Â objet Â ou Â Â—Â?Â‡Â”Â‡ÂŽÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ‹Â”Â‡ÇŤÇŻ Â 42 Â
The Â first Â part, Â my Â preliminary Â thoughts, Â tried Â to Â point Â out Â the Â possible Â variability Â of Â intertitles Â during Â the Â (historical) Â mode Â of Â production, Â such Â as Â the Â fact Â that Â intertitles Â did Â not Â exist Â as Â negatives Â or Â the Â problems Â deriving Â from Â arbitrary Â translations. Â In Â the Â second Â part Â questions Â about Â the Â possibilities Â of Â restoring, Â reconstructing Â and Â (re)creating Â intertitles, Â as Â well Â as Â their Â ethical Â implications Â were Â raised. Â In Â focusing Â on Â those Â two Â perspectives Â Č‚ Â the Â historical Â and Â the Â modern Â Č‚ Â I Â tried Â to Â reveal Â the Â difficulties Â and Â the Â consequences Â for Â the Â restoration Â of Â intertitles. Â The Â results Â of Â the Â different Â 40 Â
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
Â William Â K. Â Everson: Â American Â Silent Â Film. Â New Â York: Â Da Â Capo Â Press, Â 1998. Â p.126 Â
Â Kross Â [25.01.2010] Â
Â Patalas, Â Enno: Â On Â Wild Â Film Â Restoration. Â In: Â Journal Â of Â Film Â Preservation Â nr.56, Â 1998. Â p.26 Â Â
possibilities, as presented in the list, cannot be distinguished by just relating them to Ȃ as the paraphrase says Ȃ Ǯ ǯ ǮǯǤ favor, but it is always an in-‐between. The topic of reconstruction, restoration and (re)creation of intertitles is of huge complexity, especially when they are not preserved in their entirety; and even if so Ȃ their text or positioning can be incorrect Ȃ philological intentions should always underlie ǡ Ǯ ǡ ȋȌ Ǥǯ43 (Translation by the author).
Kant, after: Herrlinde Pauer-‐Studer: Einführung in die Ethik. Wien: UTB, 2003. p.12
What remains of glory? Looking for the stars on the silent screen of Pordenone Myriam Juan ǲǯǤ Ǩǳ Ȃ Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson), Sunset Boulevard, 1950
For most film festivals, the coming of stars represents a very important event which has great influence on the fame of the manifestation. But during the Giornate del cinema muto in Pordenone, you would wait in vain for the stars in the streets of the city or for their parade on the red carpet in front of the Verdi Theater. With the exception of the astonishing Jean Darling who was a child in the twenties, all the stars of the silent period have now disappeared for a long time. Many of them are also completely unknown but to silent cinema experts. And yet, even these people often meet those stars reading old fan magazines or seeing movies either on viewing tables or on DVD. Therefore, by showing a full week of silent films, often recently restored, on a big screen and accompanied live by musicians, the Giornate offer a unique opportunity to see the magnificence of the first movie stars again. But what remains of such glory? What does the festival tell us about silent stardom and what does a twenty first century audience feel seeing those former celebrities? The Giornate helped me to understand better stardom and to have a better knowledge of silent stars beyond the few names that have lived through the time. They also showed the very powerful impact silent stars had and still have on their films, but at the same time, they revealed to me that seeing them today is quite a different experience that it must have been eighty or ninety years before. Who were the silent stars and are we still able to identify them? There is a remarkable paradox about stardom: it is both a highlight fact (every star should be recognized as one almost by definition) and yet is anything but easy to define. However, the festival reminded us that basically, beyond scientific essays and esthetical judgments, a star is an artist whose presence is supposed to attract the audience. The material used for promotion proves it: posters, pictures and fan magazines are using stars since the 1910s to get people go to the movie theatres. No wonder that, after Mary Pickford last year, the Giornate chose a star again for its 28th edition poster [ill. 1]. With her sophisticated dress and jewels, her eyelids half-‐lowered, her mouth half-‐opened and held
out Â to Â the Â spectator, Â Mae Â Murray, Â surrounded Â by Â feathers Â like Â a Â peacock, Â still Â retains Â our Â attention. Â Of Â course Â it Â is Â an Â exception, Â for Â the Â actress Â is Â unknown Â by Â most Â of Â people Â nowadays Â and Â her Â name Â is Â not Â mentioned Â on Â the Â poster. Â In Â fact, Â she Â appears Â almost Â like Â a Â symbol Â of Â stardom Â in Â the Â roaring Â twenties. Â Yet, Â her Â power Â of Â fascination Â on Â the Â audience Â seems Â intact. Â Moreover, Â there Â were Â a Â lot Â of Â original Â film Â posters Â at Â the Â book Â market Â during Â the Â Giornate Â del Â cinema Â muto, Â and Â old Â pictures Â and Â magazines Â too. Â They Â did Â not Â only Â show Â how Â stars Â were Â used Â for Â promotion Â but Â also Â how Â they Â became Â a Â kind Â of Â product Â themselves. Â For Â instance, Â one Â stand Â at Â the Â convent Â San Â Francesco Â sold Â sets Â of Â post Â cards Â related Â to Â various Â films Â of Â Francesca Â Bertini: Â on Â the Â main Â side Â was Â a Â
Ill. Â Â 1: Â The Â poster Â of Â the Â 28th Â edition Â of Â the Â festival Â
Â coloured Â picture Â of Â the Â movie, Â always Â showing Â Bertini; Â on Â the Â other Â side Â was Â a Â presentation Â of Â the Â film Â giving Â its Â title, Â its Â credits Â and Â the Â name Â of Â the Â brand Â of Â chocolate Â giving Â to Â its Â clients Â the Â precious Â cards Â to Â collect Â Č‚ Â by Â buying Â chocolate Â of Â course. Â Â Anyway, Â stars Â are Â used Â for Â promoting Â pictures Â first. Â This Â was Â exemplified Â in Â the Â festival Â selection Â by Â a Â peculiar Â document Â entitled Â The Â Letter Â from Â Hollywood Â (c. Â 1926). Â It Â was Â made Â of Â trailers Â strung Â together, Â giving Â the Â impression Â of Â visiting Â Hollywood Â studios. Â Many Â names Â of Â famous Â actors Â are Â mentioned Â during Â this Â advertisement Â (Jackie Â Coogan, Â Betty Â Bronson, Â Bessie Â Love, Â Â‹Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”Â†Â‹ÂšÇĽČŒÂƒÂ?Â†ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‘Â”Â•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â•Â‡ÂŽÂ˜Â‡Â•ÂƒÂ”Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂ?Â‘Â•Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›Â‘nes Â present Â on Â the Â screen. Â Asking Â for Â the Â artists Â they Â like, Â it Â is Â the Â audience Â who Â makes Â stars. Â In Â return, Â stars Â often Â become Â addicted Â to Â their Â audience. Â Leatrice Â Gilbert Â Fountain Â reminded Â me Â so Â when Â she Â called Â up Â the Â happy Â old Â days Â of Â her Â mother. Â Early Â rÂ‡Â–Â‹Â”Â‡Â†ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡Â•ÇĄÂ†ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â”Â‹Â…Â‡ÂŽÂ‹Â˜Â‡Â†Â‹Â? Â”Â‡Â‡Â?Â™Â‹Â…ÂŠÇĄÂ‘Â?Â?Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â…Â—Â–ÇŁÇ˛Â•ÂŠÂ‡ was Â quite Â a Â celebrity, Â said Â her Â daughter. Â She Â would Â walk Â up Â and Â down Â the Â streets, Â go Â to Â her Â little Â shops Â to Â tell Â people Â funny Â stories. Â She Â had Â happy Â declining Â years Â because Â she Â had Â her Â audience. Â It Â Â™ÂƒÂ•Â™ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â•ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‡Â‡Â†Â‡Â†Â?Â‘Â”Â‡ÇĄÂ?Â‘Â”Â‡Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ?ÂˆÂƒÂ?Â‹ÂŽÂ›ÇŁÂŠÂ‡Â”ÂƒÂ—Â†Â‹Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Ç¤Çł1 Â Â
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
Â Leatrice Â Gilbert Â Fountain, Â interview Â given Â on Â Wednesday Â October Â the Â 7th. Â
Â‘Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â•ÂƒÂ”Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â†Â‘ÂˆÇ˛Â’Â—ÂŽÂŽÂ’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â–Â•ÇłÂ™ÂŠÂ‘Â•Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â•ÂƒÂ?Â†ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â‡Â•ÂƒÂ’Â’Â‡ÂƒÂŽÇ¤ Â—Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â?Â‘Â”Â‡Â‹ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â›Â™Â‡Â”Â‡Â?Â‘ ilm Â posters Â at Â the Â front Â of Â the Â Verdi Â Theatre Â neither Â at Â the Â entrance Â of Â the Â Ridotto, Â we Â could Â guess Â the Â way Â movies Â emphasized Â the Â stars Â from Â their Â credits. Â The Â credits Â confirm Â that Â the Â main Â actors Â almost Â always Â held Â a Â greater Â importance Â for Â the Â audience Â than Â any Â other Â personality. Â The Â fact Â that Â the Â credits Â started Â to Â become Â regular Â only Â in Â the Â 1910s Â also Â reminds Â us Â that Â stars Â did Â not Â exist Â at Â the Â beginning Â of Â the Â film Â industry. Â Indeed Â the Â first Â real Â movie Â stars Â appeared Â around Â fifteen Â years Â after Â the Â invention Â of Â the Â cinema2 Â and Â the Â star Â system Â itself Â was Â not Â organized Â and Â powerful Â until Â Č‚ Â at Â least Â Č‚ Â the Â end Â of Â the Â 1910s. Â All Â these Â external Â signs Â of Â stardom, Â especially Â the Â credits, Â tell Â us Â Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â› Â™Â‡Â”Â‡ Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â– Â†Â‡Â‰Â”Â‡Â‡Â• Â‹Â? Â•Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â– Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â†Â‘Â? ÂƒÂ?Â† Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â– Â–Â›Â’Â‡Â• Â‘Âˆ Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â•Ç¤ Â‡Â–ÇŻÂ• Â–ÂƒÂ?Â‡ ÂˆÂ‘Â” example Â the Â opening Â credits Â of Â The Â Eagle Â (1925) Â [ill. Â 2]. Â Â Ç˛Â—Â†Â‘ÂŽÂ’ÂŠÂƒÂŽÂ‡Â?Â–Â‹Â?Â‘ÇłÂ‹Â•Â„Â›ÂˆÂƒÂ”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â„Â‹Â‰Â‰Â‡Â•Â–Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â…Â”Â‡Â‡Â?Ç˘
Ill. Â 2: Â The Â opening Â credits Â of Â The Â Eagle Â Â (1925) Â by Â Clarence Â Brown Â
it Â is Â placed Â just Â after Â the Â name Â of Â the Â producer Â (Emil Â C. Â Jensen) Â and Â just Â before Â the Â title. Â Under Â the Â latter, Â the Â audience Â can Â Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ† ÂƒÂŽÂ‡Â?Â–Â‹Â?Â‘ Â‹Â• Ç˛Â•Â—Â’Â’Â‘Â”Â–Â‡Â† Â„Â› Â‹ÂŽÂ?Âƒ ÂƒÂ?Â?Â› ĆŹ Â‘Â—Â‹Â•Â‡ Â”Â‡Â•Â•Â‡Â”ÇłÇ¤ Even Â a Â novice Â who Â has Â never Â heard Â of Â Valentino Â could Â guess Â from Â such Â an Â introduction Â that Â he Â was Â a Â super-Ââ€?star Â at Â that Â time, Â whereas Â Vilma Â Banky Â and Â Louise Â Dresser Â were Â Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›ÂŠÂ‹Â•Ç˛ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ†Â‹Â?Â‰ÂŽÂƒÂ†Â‹Â‡Â•ÇłÇ¤The Â same Â thing Â happens Â in Â The Â Merry Â Â‹Â†Â‘Â™Č‹ÍłÍťÍ´ÍˇČŒÇŁÂ‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂƒÂ•Â–ÂŽÂ‹Â•Â–ÇĄÂƒÂ‡Â—Â”Â”ÂƒÂ›ÇŻÂ•Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â‹Â•Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹Â”Â•Â–ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡ÇĄÂ†Â‘Â—Â„ÂŽÂ‡Â•Â‹ÂœÂ‡Â†Â…Â‘Â?Â’ÂƒÂ”Â‡Â†Â–Â‘ ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‘ÂˆÂŠÂ‡Â”Â’ÂƒÂ”Â–Â?Â‡Â”Â•ÇŻÇ¤So Â the Â names Â order, Â their Â place Â on Â the Â sc reen Â (before Â or Â after Â the Â title, Â on Â the Â same Â frame Â or Â not), Â at Â last Â the Â Â size Â of Â the Â letters Â are Â clues Â to Â guess Â the Â rank Â of Â the Â stars Â at Â the Â time Â the Â movie Â came Â out. Â
Â? ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â–ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Ç˛Â•Â—Â’Â‡Â”-Ââ€?Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Çł Â‹Â• Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ› Â‘Â?Â‡ Â?Â‹Â?Â† Â‘Âˆ Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â•Ç¤ Some Â actors Â could Â be Â considered Â as Â stars Â in Â several Â movies Â and Â only Â as Â leading Â men Â or Â women Â in Â others, Â for Â they Â were Â then Â playing Â with Â stars Â bigger Â than Â them. Â Moreover Â they Â were Â artists Â regarded Â as Â stars Â only Â in Â one Â country. Â Some Â may Â say Â 2
Â 6RPHH[SHUWVVD\WKHILUVWPRYLHVWDULV)ORUHQFH/DXUHQFHWKHÂł%LRJUDSK*LUOÂ´ ZKRVHGLVDSSHDUDQFHLQ$SULOFDXVHGD huge Â emotion Â in Â the Â United Â States Â and Â led Â to Â the Â revelation Â or Â her Â name;Íž Â others Â consider Â that Â Asta Â Nilsen Â in Â Afgrunden Â (The Â Woman Â Always Â Pays) Â is Â the Â first Â one, Â also Â in Â 1910. Â This Â paper Â is Â not Â the Â place Â to Â settle Â this Â delicate Â question. Â Anyway, Â the Â period Â is Â the Â same. Â
they Â were Â not Â stars Â for Â stars Â should Â always Â be Â international. Â It Â can Â be Â discussed Â and Â anyway, Â we Â cannot Â ignore Â the Â fact Â that Â French Â magazines Â of Â the Â twenties, Â for Â example, Â reflecting Â the Â French Â audience Â opinion Â of Â the Â time, Â considered Â that Â Nathalie Â Kovanko Â and Â Jean Â Angelo, Â two Â main Â actors Â Â‘Âˆ ÂŽÂ‡ ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â– Â†Â‡ ÂŽÇŻÂƒÂ?Â‘Â—Â” Â–Â”Â‹Â‘Â?Â’ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â– Č‹ÍłÍťÍ´ÍľČŒÇĄ Â™Â‡Â”Â‡ Â”Â‡ÂƒÂŽ Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â•Ç¤ Â—Â…ÂŠ Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â• Â™Â‡Â”Â‡ Â?Â‘Â– Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ› commercial Â asset Â of Â a Â movie Â however, Â only Â one Â between Â others. Â It Â was Â also Â the Â case Â of Â Nicolas Â Rimsky Â who Â appeared Â in Â four Â films Â in Â Pordenone Â this Â year. Â In Â la Â Dame Â masquĂŠe, Â he Â had Â only Â a Â secondary Â role Â (those Â of Â the Â Chinese Â villain), Â whereas Â the Â same Â year Â in Â 1924, Â in Â Ce Â cochon Â de Â Â‘Â”Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ?Â†ÂŽÇŻÂ‡Â—Â”Â‡Â—Â•Â‡Â?Â‘Â”Â–ÇĄÂƒÂ?Â†Â–ÂŠÂ”Â‡Â‡Â›Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â•ÂŽÂƒÂ–Â–Â‡Â”Â‹Â?ÂŽÂ‡ÂŠÂƒÂ•Â•Â‡Â—Â”Â†Â‡Â…ÂŠÂ‡ÂœÂƒÂšÂ‹Â?ÇŻÂ•ÇĄÂŠÂ‡Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ›Â‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡ leading Â role. Â Besides Â he Â was Â the Â scriptwriter Â of Â the Â two Â latter Â films Â from Â 1924 Â and Â he Â finally Â Â†Â‹Â”Â‡Â…Â–Â‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÍłÍťÍ´ÍšÂ?Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â‰Â‡Â”Â‹Â‘Â?Ç¤ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡ÇĄÂ‹Â?ÂŽÂ‡ÂŠÂƒÂ•Â•Â‡Â—Â”Â†Â‡Â…ÂŠÂ‡ÂœÂƒÂšÂ‹Â?ÇŻÂ•ÇĄÂŠÂ‹Â•Â’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â?Â…Â‡ on Â both Â sides Â of Â the Â camera Â was Â definitely Â supposed Â to Â attract Â the Â French Â audience. Â So Â we Â had Â the Â opportunity Â to Â see Â the Â rise Â of Â this Â completely Â forgotten Â star Â of Â the Â twenties, Â who Â also Â casts Â doubt Â on Â the Â common Â idea Â that Â a Â star Â should Â be Â sexy Â and Â glamorous: Â many Â comics Â became Â great Â stars Â during Â the Â silent Â area Â and Â none Â of Â them Â pretended Â to Â be Â handsome Â Č‚ Â apart Â from Â Max Â Linder, Â the Â French Â dandy. Â Â Moreover, Â thanks Â to Â the Â Diva Â program, Â the Â festival Â reminded Â us Â that, Â at Â the Â very Â beginning Â of Â the Â movie Â star Â system, Â super-Ââ€?stars Â succeeded Â in Â emerging Â far Â from Â Hollywood Â in Â Europe. Â But Â the Â career Â of Â the Â youngest Â diva, Â Pola Â Negri, Â who Â came Â to Â the Â United Â States Â in Â 1923 Â after Â having Â become Â a Â star Â in Â Germany, Â also Â confirmed Â that Â in Â the Â twenties Â Hollywood Â became Â the Â world Â centre Â of Â the Â star Â system, Â appealing Â to Â America Â every Â ambitious Â foreign Â actor Â and Â actress. Â Most Â of Â the Â stars Â we Â still Â know Â nowadays Â came Â to Â Hollywood Â one Â day Â or Â another, Â sometimes Â to Â shoot Â only Â one Â film, Â like Â Ivan Â Mosjoukine Â did Â in Â 1927. Â From Â that Â point Â of Â view, Â we Â can Â say Â that Â a Â journey Â in Â California Â in Â the Â 1920s Â helped Â (without Â being Â an Â absolute Â cÂ‘Â?Â†Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â?ČŒÂ–Â‘Â‡Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Ç˛ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?ÇłČ‚ Â that Â is Â to Â say Â the Â few Â names Â that Â have Â passed Â through Â the Â time. Â Â ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?Â’ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‹Â•Ç˛ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?ÇłÂ–Â‘Â†ÂƒÂ›Â™ÂƒÂ•Â‡Â˜Â‹Â†Â‡Â?Â–Â†Â—Â”Â‹Â?Â‰Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‡Â•Â–Â‹Â˜ÂƒÂŽÇ¤ Â‘Â”Â‹Â?Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇĄÂ?Â‘Â•Â–Â’Â‡Â‘Â’ÂŽÂ‡Â…ÂƒÂ?Â‡ Â–Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‹Â˜ÂƒÇŻÂ• Â•Â…Â”Â‡Â‡Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â•Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›Â–Â‘Â•Â‡Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂƒÂ…Â–Â”Â‡Â•Â•Â‡Â•ÇŁÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â›Â†Â‹Â†Â?ÇŻÂ– Â…ÂƒÂ”Â‡ Â‹ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•Â™Â‡Â”Â‡Â‰Â‘Â‘Â†Â‘Â”Â?Â‘Â–ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â› Â†Â‹Â†Â?ÇŻÂ– Â‡Â˜Â‡Â? Â…ÂƒÂ”Â‡ Â–Â‘ Â™ÂƒÂ–Â…ÂŠ Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â? ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â? Â„Â‡Â‰Â‹Â?Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–Â‘ Â‡Â?Â† Âƒs Â long Â as Â Bertini, Â Nielsen Â or Â Negri Â were Â here. Â ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â™ÂƒÂ•Â’ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‹Â…Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ”ÂŽÂ›Â•Â–Â”Â‹Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â•Â–ÂƒÂ‹Â‡ÂŽÂ•Â‡Â?ÇŻÂ•Â•Â‡Â•Â•Â‹Â‘Â?Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â…ÂŽÂ—Â†Â‡Â†ÂƒÂ•ÂŠÂ‘Â”Â–Â…ÂŽÂ‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â• parade, Â a Â very Â brief Â fragment Â of Â a Â 1920 Â movie Â (only Â two Â minutes) Â and Â longer Â pieces Â of Â a Â 1921 Â Â
Ǥ ǲǳ en affects a film restoration process. In the second Collegium dialogue, giving a commentary on the work accomplished on Beyond the Rocks (1922) Giovanna Fossati explained to us that the film had been chosen among many others because of the presence of two ǡ Ǥ ǡ ǯ very good and the money could have been worthily spent on another title, but it is easier to gather money for restoration when they are stars in the credits. Howeverǡǲǳ part of silent stars galaxy. Moreover its selection has been made for years: it should be discussed and change. In my opinion, it is one of the main Giornate interests to replace these long lasting famous names among their coevals. It sometimes brings us to rediscoveries as it happened this ǣ ǯ-‐known today but I noticed she made a very ǡ ǯ ȋͳͻʹȌ n Nocturne, a short by Marcel Silver made the same year. One of the direction choices which make Nocturne so remarkable is the use of many close-‐ups on ǯ Ǥ ǲǳ on the way silent stars influenced the conception of their movies and to question their impact on the screen.
ǡ ǯ ǡ should be able to recognize them during the screening. First of all, the stars always play the leading role of their movies. It is almost a condition of stardom in silent area: being the most Ǥ ǯ ǡ is clear that the ǯ ȋ ǡ Ȍ Ǥ ǯ ǡ which would not easily has been played by a star in Hollywood during the twenties. In these ǡǯ ȏǤ͵ȐǤǡ did not need to be good actors or actresses: some were (like the great Asta Nielsen) and some were not (as Mae Murray according to many people I spoke with during the festival). But all of them had fascination and attraction faculties back in their times.
ÂŽÂŽÇ¤ÍľÇŁÂ?Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ”Â‹Â…ÂŠÂ˜Â‘Â?Â–Â”Â‘ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?ÇŻÂ•Merry Â Widow posters
So Â stars Â almost Â always Â play Â heroes. Â Their Â films Â are Â based Â upon Â the Â characters Â they Â play: Â they Â are Â the Â ones Â who Â act Â and Â who Â further Â the Â story. Â It Â is Â obvious Â for Â super-Ââ€?stars Â such Â as Â Valentino Â in Â The Â Eagle Â or Â Coogan Â in Â Daddy Â (1923), Â but Â it Â is Â also Â true Â sometimes Â for Â less Â important Â stars Â like Â Nicolas Â Rimsky Â in Â Â‡Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ•Â•Â‡Â—Â” Â†Â‡Â…ÂŠÂ‡ÂœÂƒÂšÂ‹Â?ÇŻÂ•. Â As Â a Â result, Â from Â The Â Perils Â of Â Pauline Â (1914) Â to Â CarmenÇĄÂ•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â•ÇŻÂ…ÂŠÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‡Â”Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ–Â‡Â?Â‰Â‹Â˜Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â”Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â•Ç¤ÂŠÂ‡Â’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂ•Â—Â’Â‡Â”-Ââ€?star Â even Â often Â determinates Â the Â whole Â conception Â of Â a Â movie, Â from Â the Â writing Â of Â the Â script Â to Â the Â film Â direction. Â ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â‹Â•Â™ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â™Â‡Â—Â•Â—ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ›Â…ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂƒÇ˛Â˜Â‡ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŽÂ‡ÇłÇŁÂƒÂ?Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ†Â‡Â‡ÂšÂ’Â”Â‡Â•Â•ÂŽÂ›ÂˆÂ‘Â”ÂƒÂ•Â’Â‡Â…Â‹ÂˆÂ‹Â…Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‘Â‰Â‡Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â„Â‡Â•Â– out Â of Â him Â or Â her, Â and Â to Â please Â the Â audience. Â One Â of Â the Â most Â striking Â examples Â of Â vehicle Â we Â saw Â in Â Pordenone Â this Â year Â was Â definitely Â DaddyÇ¤ Â?Â†Â‡Â‡Â†ÇĄÂ‘Â‘Â‰ÂƒÂ?ÇŻÂ•Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‡Â”Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â•ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‹Â•ÂƒÂŽÂ?Â‘Â•Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡ same Â he Â played Â in Â The Â Kid Â (1921) Â which Â made Â him Â a Â child Â star Â loved Â all Â over Â the Â world: Â he Â is Â a Â poor Â but Â brave Â little Â boy, Â helped Â by Â a Â man Â in Â the Â fringe Â of Â society; Â at Â the Â end, Â he Â finally Â finds Â happiness Â and Â meets Â his Â real Â parents Â again. Â Even Â his Â clothes Â are Â the Â same Â and Â some Â scenes Â seem Â Â–Â‘ Â„Â‡ Â–ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â? Â†Â‹Â”Â‡Â…Â–ÂŽÂ› ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â? ÂŠÂƒÂ’ÂŽÂ‹Â?ÇŻÂ• Â?ÂƒÂ•Â–Â‡Â” Â’Â‹Â‡Â…Â‡ Č‹Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â†Â‹Â?Â?Â‡Â” ÂˆÂ‘Â” Â‹Â?Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ČŒÇ¤ Â? ÍłÍťÍ´Íľ Â‹Â? ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â–ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ identification Â between Â the Â star Â and Â his Â character Â is Â complete: Â DaddyÇŻÂ• ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â–ÂŽÂ‡ ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‘ Â‹Â• Â‡Â˜Â‡Â? Â…ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â† Ç˛ ÂƒÂ…Â?Â‹Â‡ÇłÂƒÂ•Â‹ÂˆÂŠÂ‡Â™ÂƒÂ•Â‘Â‘Â‰ÂƒÂ?ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â•Â‡ÂŽÂˆÇ¤ÂƒÂ•Â–Â„Â—Â–Â?Â‘Â–ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ•Â–Â…Â‘Â?Â…Â‡Â”Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?ÂˆÂŽÂ—Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â•Â—Â’Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ conception Â of Â their Â films, Â it Â occurs Â Č‚ Â rarely Â Č‚ Â that Â a Â very Â big Â star Â becomes Â a Â character Â of Â the Â story. Â It Â is Â the Â case Â in Â Mariute Â Č‹ÍłÍťÍłÍşČŒ Â™ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ Â”ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â•Â…Âƒ Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â?Â‹ Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ›Â• Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠ Âƒ ÂŽÂ‘Â– Â‘Âˆ ÂŠÂ—Â?Â‘Â—Â” Ç˛ÂŽÂƒ Â‹Â˜Âƒ Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â?Â‹ÇłÇ¤ Â‘ Â†Â‘Â—Â„Â– Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â–Â”ÂƒÂ?Â•ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂƒÂ…Â–Â”Â‡Â•Â• Â‹Â?Â–Â‘ Âƒ ÂˆÂ‹Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â? ÂˆÂ‹Â‰Â—Â”Â‡ Â‹Â• Âƒ Â•Â‹Â‰Â? Â‘Âˆ Â•Â—Â’Â”Â‡Â?Â‡ stardom. Â
Furthermore, the importance of stars in the script results in specific shooting and direction. First of all, the star is more present than any other actor on the screen. Every film which has been named before could illustrate that fact, but the beginning of The Playhouse (1921) by Keaton uses it with wittiness. Indeed, Keaton plays every part: the conductor, the orchestra, the dancers, the stagehand and of course the audience. He even plays a black man and a woman! He is literally invading the screen. A spectator (played by Keaton like all the rest) gives a look to the program and notices: « This fellow Keaton seems to be the whole show. ». A sentence that sounds like a ǲ Áǳ Ȃ unless a super-‐star Ȃ is: a smashing and pervasive ǡǲǳǤ Beyond their time of appearance on the screen, stars are not shot like other actors. The use of close-‐up has been mentioned before and it is certainly the most emblematic practice linked to stardom. Close-‐ups are not exclusively used for stars but they remain mostly a star privilege. Some of them have even become famous in cinema history, like the final shot of Queen Christina (1934) on Greta Garbo. In my eyes, the last close-‐ǯ-‐lighted face at the end of Die Geliebte Roswolskys (1921) was almost as memorable. Close-‐ups had a tremendous impact on the first movie-‐goers. It is hard to figure it nowadays because we have become quite used to them (even if they are still moving and powerful). These shots created a close relation between the actors and the audience, as if the formers were baring their feelings to the latter. Thus, actors were both dominating (by their size on the screen) and vulnerable (by the fact they exposed something very intimate). Of course close-‐ ǯ disappeared with talking pictures, but they became rarely as intense as they were during the silent area. Looking at one of her old films Norma Desmond, the creepy character of Sunset Boulevard (1950), declares proudly in front of her proper young face in close-‐ǣǲǯǤ Ǩǳ ǡ the fascination power of movie stars. But today, the bad condition of the copies and the poor size of the screens we are often compelled to watch them are not fare to their beauty and talent. On that account, the Giornate are an extraordinary occasion to restore them.
ǯ -‐up which so much impressed me was at the end of the movie, the moments when stars appear are often even more revealing of their stardom. The festival gave us great examples of these key-‐moments. It showed different ways to make the appearance of a star memorable. First, the choice of the scene in the film where the star appears: some stars show up
since Â the Â very Â beginning. Â For Â example, Â Valentino Â in Â The Â Eagle Â is Â straightaway Â in Â the Â action Â (rescuing Â a Â beautiful Â young Â lady Â under Â the Â concupiscent Â eyes Â of Â the Â Russian Â queen). Â Others Â feed Â the Â audience Â expectation, Â like Â Coogan Â in Â Daddy Â where Â a Â prologue Â defers Â the Â arrival Â of Â the Â little Â boy. Â Mariute Â plays Â with Â this Â image Â of Â the Â star Â as Â someone Â who Â knows Â how Â to Â make Â oneself Â desired, Â in Â a Â film Â but Â also Â in Â a Â studio. Â It Â shows Â Francesca Â Bertini Â called Â all Â the Â day Â long Â by Â her Â collaborators Â who Â cannot Â begin Â the Â shooting Â without Â her. Â At Â last, Â whereas Â everÂ›Â„Â‘Â†Â›ÇŻÂ• ÂŠÂ‘Â’Â‡ Â•Â‡Â‡Â?Â•Â–Â‘Â„Â‡Â‰Â‘Â?Â‡ÇĄÂ™Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â–Â‡Â?Â†Ç˛ÇŻÂƒÂ”Â”Â‹Â˜Â‘Â†Â‡ÂŽÂŽÂƒÂ‹Â˜ÂƒÇłÇŁÂ‡Â”Â–Â‹Â?Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â•ÂƒÂ•Â’Â‡Â…Â–ÂƒÂ…Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ”Â‡Â?Â–Â”ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â‡Â–ÇĄ as Â if Â she Â was Â on Â a Â stage. Â At Â last, Â some Â films Â multiply Â the Â appearance Â moments, Â usually Â for Â big Â stars. Â Â‘Â”Â‹Â?Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇĄÂƒÂ‡Â—Â”Â”ÂƒÂ›ÇŻÂ•Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‡Â”Â‹Â?The Â Merry Â Widow Â makes Â three Â outstanding Â entrances: Â as Â an Â Irish Â dancer Â in Â the Â middle Â of Â her Â band; Â as Â a Â seducing Â widow, Â all Â black-Ââ€?dressed; Â as Â a Â sensual Â ÂŽÂ‘Â˜Â‡Â”ÇĄÂ‹Â?ÂƒÂ™ÂŠÂ‹Â–Â‡Â‡Â˜Â‡Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â†Â”Â‡Â•Â•ÂƒÂ–ÂƒÂšÂ‹Â?ÇŻÂ•Ç¤ Â Â ÂƒÂ‡ Â—Â”Â”ÂƒÂ›ÇŻÂ• Â‡Â?Â–Â”ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â• ÂƒÂ”Â‡ Â?Â‡Â?Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‡ ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â˜Â‡ ÂƒÂŽÂŽ Â„Â‡Â…ÂƒÂ—Â•Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ way Â Stroheim Â plays Â with Â the Â frame, Â the Â editing, Â the Â costumes, Â the Â set, Â and Â the Â presence Â of Â the Â other Â actors Â and Â the Â extras. Â ÂƒÂ“Â—Â‡ÂŽ Â‡ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â”ÇŻÂ• ÂˆÂ‹Â”Â•Â– ÂƒÂ’Â’Â‡ÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ Â‹Â? Carmen Â Â‹Â• ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â‘ Â—Â?ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‰Â‡Â–Â–ÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‡ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â?Â• Â–Â‘ Â‡Â›Â†Â‡Â”ÇŻÂ• Â™Â‘Â?Â†Â‡Â”ÂˆÂ—ÂŽ directing. Â The Â camera Â gets Â closer Â to Â the Â Spanish Â diva Â through Â several Â fades Â in Â and Â fades Â out, Â whereas Â the Â actress Â is Â looking Â straight Â in Â its Â direction Â that Â is Â to Â say Â straight Â in Â the Â audience Â direction. Â Later Â in Â the Â movie, Â Raquel Â Meller Â makes Â two Â other Â remarkable Â entrances: Â she Â is Â sitting Â under Â a Â ray Â of Â light Â in Â an Â inn; Â she Â emerges Â on Â the Â contrary Â from Â darkness Â to Â join Â and Â ruin Â Don Â JosĂŠ. Â In Â Pordenone, Â these Â visual Â ideas Â often Â sparked Â off Â sound Â effects. Â We Â could Â almost Â guess Â what Â happened Â on Â the Â screen Â without Â seeing Â it, Â for Â at Â the Â very Â moment Â the Â stars Â were Â appearing, Â the Â musicians Â changed Â the Â tune, Â the Â rhythm Â or Â the Â intensity Â of Â music. Â It Â reinforced Â the Â dramatic Â tension Â here Â (like Â in Â Carmen), Â a Â comic Â effect Â there Â (the Â entrance Â of Â the Â diva Â Bertini Â for Â instance). Â Every Â time Â live Â accompaniment Â made Â the Â images Â more Â powerful Â and Â the Â apparitions Â more Â striking. Â Â Therefore, Â the Â Giornate Â del Â cinema Â muto Â tend Â to Â restore Â the Â magnificence Â of Â silent Â stars Â again. Â Nevertheless, Â seeing Â them Â nowadays Â it Â is Â certainly Â not Â the Â same Â experience Â it Â was Â in Â their Â time. Â Indeed, Â knowing Â the Â following Â of Â their Â stories Â definitely Â change Â our Â look Â on Â silent Â stars. Â When Â we Â look Â at Â them, Â we Â know Â their Â whole Â career Â and Â our Â mind Â is Â often Â full Â of Â memories Â of Â their Â Â’Â‡Â”ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â•ÇĄ Â‡Â˜Â‡Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘Â?Â‡Â• Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â› ÂŠÂƒÂ†Â?ÇŻÂ– Â?ÂƒÂ†Â‡ ÂƒÂ– Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â–Â‹Â?Â‡Ç¤ Â—Â”Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â festival, Â I Â sometimes Â Â
waited for actors and actresses whose careers were only beginning as if they were already stars. In fact, they are three main moments in stardom: the rise, the peak and Ȃ in most cases Ȃ the decline. Jean Darling, who was a child star in the twenties and who gave up cinema in the early ǡ ǣǲ ǡ ǳǤ m Ǥ ͳͻʹͷǡ ǡ ǯ ǣ The Merry Widow and The Big Parade, a few months latter, made him one of Hollywood male super-‐stars. However his glorious days quickly passed away and in 1936, Gilbert died after his career had Ǥǯǡʹͺ ǡ the more moving. Although he never knew decline, the sight of Valentino in The Eagle also brings to melancholy for it was one of the very last films the star made before he died, at the age of only 31. On that score, the festival makes us feel acutely the vanity of glory. As we said before, all the silent stars have now disappeared. Not only are they dead, but a lot of them, as famous as they may have been in their time, are completely forgotten by most of people. Who remembers Mae Murray, for example? When I came back from Pordenone with my bag reproducing the festival poster, everyone of my relatives asked me who this woman was. Even experts are sometimes defeated by a face they cannot identify, like this actress shot in colour in the Kodachrome tests shown at the Verdi Theatre. Unlike the other women in the tests (Mae Murray, Hope Hampton and Mary Eaton from the Ziegfeld Follies Ȃ all of them unknown but to experts nowadays), maybe this woman ǯ ǫ ǡ ǡ Ǥ ǡ colour made all these beautiful faces more present and fainting Ȃ almost unreal Ȃ at the same time. No doubt the fact that a lot of silent films disappeared has contributed to forgetfulness. In the case of Max Linder, it has certainly prevented the critics to give to the great French comic the place he deserved in the history of cinema. So it has been the main purpose of his daughter, Maud Linder, to find as many films of her father as possible, to restore them and to show them. Thanks to her work (for which she received the Jean Mitry award this year) Max Linder is no longer forgotten. Nevertheless, most of his films are still missing. Indeed, even great stars have sometimes left us ǡ ǯ Ǥ
stars Â even Â present Â in Â our Â mind Â through Â their Â cinematographic Â performances? Â As Â Louise Â Brooks Â noticed: Â Â
When Â you Â think Â of Â it, Â what Â people Â remember Â of Â those Â stars Â is Â not Â from Â films, Â but Â one Â essential Â photograph: Â Dietrich Â Č‚ Â heavy-Ââ€?lidded, Â sucked-Ââ€?in Â cheeks Â / Â Keaton Â Č‚ Â sad Â little Â boy Â / Â Crawford Â Č‚ Â staring Â self-Ââ€?admiration Â / Â Gable Â Č‚ Â smiling, Â darling.3 Â
Strangely, Â still Â frames Â and Â single Â shots Â frequently Â fill Â our Â memory Â more Â than Â moving Â pictures. Â It Â is Â particularly Â true Â for Â silent Â stars, Â whose Â movies Â are Â so Â rarely Â available, Â either Â because Â they Â have Â disappeared Â or Â because Â they Â are Â no Â longer Â shown. Â Indeed, Â I Â know Â better Â many Â silent Â stars Â through Â their Â pictures Â in Â magazines Â than Â through Â their Â films. Â Â Moreover, Â the Â very Â few Â survivors Â and Â direct Â heirs Â of Â silent Â area Â bring Â to Â consciousness Â the Â passing Â of Â time. Â It Â was Â a Â real Â choc Â for Â me Â to Â discover Â the Â old Â Jean Â Darling Â I Â only Â knew Â from Â her Â pictures Â as Â a Â child Â in Â the Â twenties. Â As Â an Â extract Â of Â one Â of Â her Â movies Â was Â shown, Â I Â tried Â in Â vain Â to Â recognize Â the Â little Â girl Â in Â the Â white-Ââ€?haired Â woman Â on Â the Â stage. Â The Â day Â after Â this Â audience, Â I Â had Â the Â Â‘Â’Â’Â‘Â”Â–Â—Â?Â‹Â–Â› Â–Â‘ Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â˜Â‹Â‡Â™ Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â”Â‹Â…Â‡ Â‹ÂŽÂ„Â‡Â”Â– Â‘Â—Â?Â–ÂƒÂ‹Â?Ç¤ Â?Â† Â™ÂŠÂ‹ÂŽÂ‡ Â•ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â’Â‘Â?Â‡ÇĄ Â…Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â?ÇŻÂ– ÂŠÂ‡ÂŽÂ’ Â?Â›Â•Â‡ÂŽÂˆ seeking Â for Â the Â features Â of Â her Â parents Â in Â those, Â still Â beautiful, Â of Â the Â old Â woman, Â just Â like Â the Â journalist Â Louella Â O. Â Parsons Â did Â in Â the Â Waterloo Â Daily Â Courier Â ÂŒÂ—Â†Â‰Â‹Â?Â‰Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÇŁÇ˛Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â”Â‹Â…Â‡ Â‘Â› Â‹ÂŽÂ„Â‡Â”Â– Č?ÇĽČ?ÂŠÂƒÂ•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â?Â•Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ?Â†ÂˆÂŽÂƒÂ•ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‰Â„ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â?Â‡Â›Â‡Â•Â‘ÂˆÂŠÂ‡Â”ÂˆÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â” ÂƒÂ…Â?Č‹ Â‘ÂŠn) Â Gilbert Â Č‚ Â plus Â Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ‡ÂƒÂ–Â”Â‹Â…Â‡Â”Ç¤Çł4. Â Except Â Louella Â O. Â Parsons Â wrote Â at Â the Â beginning Â of Â the Â forties, Â when Â Leatrice Â Gilbert Â was Â not Â already Â 18. Â She Â is Â now Â 85. Â This Â nostalgia Â caused Â by Â silent Â stars Â is Â all Â the Â deeper Â that Â on Â the Â screen, Â they Â seem Â to Â be Â wonderfully Â and Â eternally Â young. Â From Â that Â point Â of Â view, Â not Â only Â the Â Giornate Â contribute Â in Â a Â way Â to Â perpetuate Â the Â myth Â of Â movie Â stars Â immortality, Â they Â also Â pass Â on Â a Â living Â memory Â of Â silent Â films. Â Indeed, Â Pordenone Â conditions Â of Â screening Â are Â excellent, Â even Â better Â than Â many Â people Â had Â in Â the Â past Â (copies Â were Â sometimes Â worn, Â the Â pianists Â were Â bad, Â the Â theatres Â noisy). Â So Â the Â festival Â 3
Â Quoted Â by Â KOBAL Â (John), Â The Â Art Â of Â The Â Great Â Hollywood Â Portrait Â Photographers, Â New-ÂYork, Â Toronto, Â Alfred Â A. Â Knopf, Â Random Â House Â of Â Canada Â Limited, Â 1980, Â p. Â 122 Â (stressed Â in Â the Â book). Â 4
Â Waterloo Â Daily Â Courier, Â Waterloo, Â Iowa, Â U.S., Â Tuesday, Â March Â 24, Â 1942, Â p. Â 13. Â Thanks Â to Â Claudio Â Marchi Â who Â reported Â this Â quotation Â to Â me. Â
fully restores the stars magnificence, giving the impression that the individuals may die, the stars will always live on the screen. It is a weird feeling. For the relatives of the stars, the experience is especially deeply moving. When I asked Leatrice Gilbert Fountain whether on the screen she saw ǡ ǣǲǮ ǯǤǨǤǤǤ ǯ Ǥǳ ǣǲ Ǥ ȋȌ The Merry Widow at the Museum of Modern Art where I went in the 1970s. I was about 47 years old. And then, I can tell you how he was, his young and beautiful face and expressions I remember, Ǥ Ǥ Ǥǳ After that screening it occurred to her the idea of writing a book about her father5 for, according to ǡ ǲ ȏǥȐ ǣ ǳǤ ǡ times were mature for such a project and her essay, published in ͳͻͺͷǡǲ because at that time people like Kevin Brownlow, David Robinson and others had looked through the studios myths, and they were showing the old films and discovering actors and actresses who ǣǮǫǯ ǫ ǨǫǯǳǤ remarks underline how important is the work of the community of silent film lovers: researchers, archivists, curators, students and everyone in the audience who make an event like the Giornate del cinema muto possible. Besides, it is the essential purpose of the festival to work to the restoration and appreciation of silent films. It is also the only way to shake the official history up. For instance, as Leatrice Gilbert Fountain notices, thanks to the work accomplished in thirty years, the formerly completely forgotten John Gilbert is ǲǡ ǣ ǳǤǡ just as Valentino has always been. Therefore, screening the films and debating about them is the only way to keep them alive and the only way to enable their stars to dazzle us over and over again.
5 GILBERT FOUNTAIN (Leatrice), Dark Star. The Untold Story of the Meteoric Rise and Fall of Legendary Silent Screen Star John Gilbert,
New-‐York, Saint Martin Press, 1985, 287 p.
As a student working on stardom between the two World Wars, I spend my days reading about silent actors and actresses. I see their pictures in magazines, I study their interviews, I examine the enthusiasm of the audience for them from testimonies and letters. Still, never before did I have the opportunity to see them in so many films, in such good conditions, in such a short time. What remains of their glory, I asked myself before the festival started? Will I be able to appreciate them and to understand the fervour they aroused at their time? The quality of the copies, the live accompaniment and the size of the screen: these three essential conditions were gathered in Pordenone to bring back to life the greatness of silent stars, the well-‐ known as well as the forgotten ones. The Giornate del cinema muto convinced me that their power was intact, but at the same time they showed me the gap between then and nowadays. It seems to me that a mystery remains above all, a fascination specific to silent stardom and silent era. The looks and expressions are more vivid, the way the stars are put in the spotlight is slightly different, due to the absence of dialogues and the quest of a complete visual language. Of course, sounds and ǯǡ Ǥ Ȃ ǯan they started to look like us. Furthermore, if filming silent stars was somehow different, to watch them now is not the same experience it was back then either, as film codes have deeply changed and actors are long gone. There is something strange and nostalgic at the same time, when one watches silent stars nowadays, although fortunately for us, to watch a silent film is far from being just a nostalgic experience. To conclude, I would say that looking for the stars on the silent screen of Pordenone, I definitely met them Ȃ among many other exciting and moving discoveries. * I wish to thank all the people who make the Giornate del cinema muto possible, in particular those in charge of the Collegium, which is a wonderful idea and structure. Special thanks to Peter Walsh who carefully read and commented on my first notes, to Karolina Kendall-‐Bush who interviewed Leatrice Gilbert Fountain with me, and to Claudio Marchi who not only made the recording of the interview possible, but also reread my final paper with great attention.
Looking Â for Â London: Â Locating Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â and Â Beyond Â Karolina Â Kendall-Ââ€?Bush Â ÇŽÂ‘Â‘ Â—Â…ÂŠ Â‘Â?Â†Â‘Â?Ç¤ÇŻ Â‘ Â…Â‘Â?Â…ÂŽÂ—Â†Â‡Â† Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ’ÂŠ Â‡Â‡Â?ÂŽÂ›ÇŻÂ• May Â 1923 Â article Â on Â the Â Stoll Â production Â of Â the Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â story, Â The Â Sign Â of Â Four.1 Â As Â I Â watched Â the Â films Â of Â the Â Sherlock Â and Â Beyond: Â The Â British Â Detective Â in Â Silent Â Cinema Â Â’Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‡ ÂƒÂ– Í´Í˛Í˛ÍťÇŻÂ• Le Â Giornate Â del Â Cinema Â Muto, Â however, Â I Â could Â have Â concluded Â that Â there Â was Â not Â enough Â London. Â Â I Â expected Â to Â find Â films Â bursting Â with Â London Â locations Â or Â at Â least Â its Â studio Â incarnations; Â but Â to Â my Â surprise, Â while Â the Â ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• Â‹Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â’Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‡ ÂˆÂ‡ÂƒÂ–Â—Â”Â‡Â† ÇŽÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â•ÂŠ Â‡Â–Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ÇĄÇŻ Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â› Â™Â‡Â”Â‡ Â?Â‘Â– Â?Â‡Â…Â‡Â•Â•ÂƒÂ”Â‹ÂŽÂ› Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â•ÂŠ productions. Â Films Â that Â exploited Â London Â locations Â by Â the Â British Â company Â Stoll Â Picture Â Productions, Â such Â as Â The Â Sign Â of Â Four Â (1923), Â The Â Mystery Â Of Â Fu-ÂManchu: Â The Â Clue Â of Â the Â Pigtail Â (1923), Â and Â The Â Last Â Adventures Â of Â Sherlock Â Holmes: Â The Â Final Â Problem(1923), Â were Â programmed Â alongside Â Czech, Â German, Â Danish, Â Dutch Â and Â Italian Â productions. Â The Â juxtaposition Â of Â British Â and Â non-Ââ€?British Â productions, Â and Â British Â and Â non-Ââ€?British Â locations, Â provokes Â a Â number Â of Â questions. Â First, Â considering Â the Â films Â included Â in Â the Â Sherlock Â and Â Beyond Â programme, Â how Â essential Â are Â British Â locations Â to Â British Â detective Â films? Â Second, Â when Â watching Â these Â films, Â to Â what Â extent Â am Â I, Â and Â by Â extension Â other Â viewers, Â not Â so Â much Â looking Â for Â the Â plots Â and Â characterisations Â of Â Conan Â Â‘Â›ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÂ• Â stories, Â but Â looking Â for Â London? Â Identifiable Â by Â his Â silhouette Â alone, Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â is Â an Â iconic Â character,.2 Â His Â deerstalker, Â pipe, Â and Â magnifying Â glass,3 Â as Â well Â as Â his Â cool Â temperament Â and Â powers Â of Â deductive Â reasoning Â have Â been Â adopted Â as Â what Â Sherlock Â and Â Beyond Â Â’Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‡Â” ÂƒÂ› Â‡Â‹Â•Â•Â„Â‡Â”Â‰ Â…ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ• ÂƒÂ? ÇŽÂ‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂŽ Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
1 Â Kinematograph Â Weekly, Â 3 Â May Â 1923. Â
2 Â In Â his Â study Â of Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â on Â Screen, Â Alan Â Barnes Â describes Â Holmes Â ÂƒÂ•ÇŽÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹Â”Â•Â–Â’Â‘Â’Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ”Â‹Â…Â‘Â? Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‘Â†Â‡Â”Â?
ÂƒÂ‰Â‡Ç¤ Â?Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â–ÂŽÂ›Â‹Â†Â‡Â?Â–Â‹ÂˆÂ‹ÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‡Â„Â›ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â•Â‹ÂŽÂŠÂ‘Â—Â‡Â–Â–Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂ‘Â?Â‡ÇĄÂ‡Â˜Â‡Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•ÂŽÂ‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â‡Â•Â–Â‘ÂˆÂ˜Â‹Â•Â—ÂƒÂŽÂ’Â”Â‘Â?Â’Â–Â•ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ†Â–Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â–Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ÇŻÇ¤ÂŽÂƒÂ? Barnes, Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â On Â Screen: Â The Â Complete Â Film Â and Â TV Â History Â (London: Â Reynolds Â and Â Hearn Â Ltd., Â 2002), Â 7. Â 3 Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â—Â”Â‡Â•Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â†Â‘Â?Â‘Â–Â…Â‘Â?Â‡Â•Â‘Â?Â—Â…ÂŠÂˆÂ”Â‘Â?Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â›ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÂ•Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â•Â„Â—Â–ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â?Â‹Â†Â?Â‡Â›ÂƒÂ‰Â‡Â–ÇŻÂ•Â‹ÂŽÂŽÂ—Â•Â–Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÂˆÂ‘Â” The Â Strand Â
magazine. Â Â
77 Â Â
ǯ4 Ǥǡǡ Ǯǯ Ǯ ǡǤǤǤ aristocracy and the stereotypical English trait of gentlemanly behaviour coupled with wry Ǥǯ5 No surprise, therefore, that the international productions included in the Sherlock and Beyond programme featured an array of detectives whose British identity was contingent on their either beingȄor resemblingȄSherlock Holmes. International producers ǯǡ ǡ ǮǯǤ Between 1910 and 1920, fifty Sherlock Holmes films appeared in Europe and beyond. The ǡǡǯ Holmes in various incongruous situations. 6 The German production Der Hund Von Baskerville (1914) is, for example, not a film adaptation of Hound of the Baskervilles, but an adaptation of a ǯ ǡ -‐plot about the buried treasure of Bonnie Prince Billy.7 ǯ oves the action to Scotland, Der Hund Von Baskervilles confuses a Scottish and Devon setting. Intertitles announce the Baskerville estate to be in Devon, while the local populace dress in kilts. Consequently the film divorces the story from either an Engli ǡ ǯ ǮǯǤ l±â (1923), the Ǯ
ǯǡ -‐sized deerstalker, pipe, magnifying glass, and a garish tweed suit. These German and Czech productions thus reduce Ǯǯ Ǥ
4 ǡǮ ǣ ǡǯLe giornate del cinema muto: catalogo
2009, 30 5
ǡ Ǯ ǣ ǡǯ Le giornate del cinema muto: catalogo 2009, 30. 6 ǡ Ǯ ǣ The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and the Stoll Company 1921-‐ʹ͵ǡǯ
Journal of British Cinema and Television, 4,1 (2007), 19 7Alan Barnes, Sherlock Holmes On Screen: The Complete Film and TV History (London: Reynolds and Hearn Ltd., 2002),
Â According Â to Â the Â Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ’ÂŠÂ‡Â‡Â?ÂŽÂ›ÇŻÂ•ÍłÍťÍ´ÍłÂƒÂ”Â–Â‹Â…ÂŽÂ‡Â‡Â?Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â†ÇŽÂŠÂ‡Ç˛Â‘Â‘Â?Çł Â‹ÂŽÂ?ÇŻÇĄexhibitors Â were Â ÇŽÂ—Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‘Â—Â•ÂŽÂ›ÇŻ ÂƒÂ‰ÂƒÂ‹Â?Â•Â– ÂƒÂ†ÂƒÂ’Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â• Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â™Â‡Â”Â‡ Âƒ Â ÇŽÂƒ Â–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡ ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â–ÂŽÂ‡ Â‡ÂŽÂ•Â‡Ç¤ÇŻ8 Â Der Â Hund Â Von Â Baskervilles Â and Â the Â Danish Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â I Â BondefangerklĂ¸r Â (1910) Â took Â the Â titles Â and/or Â the Â characters Â of Â Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â• Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â• Â–Â‘ Â†Â‡Â?Â‘Â–Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÇŽÂ”Â‹Â–Â‹Â•ÂŠÂ?Â‡Â•Â•ÇŻ Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â” Â†Â‡Â–Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•ÇĄ Â„Â—Â– Â‡Â˜Â‘Â?Â‡Â† ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â–ÂŽÂ‡ Â‡ÂŽÂ•Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â™ÂƒÂ• Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â•ÂŠÇ¤ Â• Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‡ÂšÂŠÂ‹Â„Â‹Â–Â‘Â”ÇŻÂ• Â—Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‘Â—Â• ÂƒÂ‰Â”Â‡Â‡Â?Â‡Â?Â– Â†Â‡Â?Â‘Â?Â•Â–Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â•ÇĄ ÂŠÂ‘Â™Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”ÇĄ ÂƒÂ†ÂƒÂ’Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â• Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– took Â titles Â and Â characters Â alone Â could Â not Â satisfy Â an Â audience Â in Â search Â of Â their Â literary Â heroes. Â A Â populÂ‹Â•Â– Â—Â?Â†Â‡Â”Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â†Â‹Â?Â‰ Â‘Âˆ Â‘Â›ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÂ• ÂŠÂ‡Â”ÂŽÂ‘Â…Â? Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â• Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â• ÂƒÂ•Â•Â‘Â…Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â• Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â? Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â?Â‘Â”Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â’Â‡Â…Â—ÂŽÂ‹ÂƒÂ”Â‹Â–Â‹Â‡Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â•ÇŻÂ•Â…ÂŽÂ‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•ÂƒÂ?Â†Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‡Â”Ç¤Â‡Â‹Â•Â’Â‘Â’Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ”ÂŽÂ›ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â?Â‡Â†Â–Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â‡Â•ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?ÂŠÂƒÂ„Â‹Â–Â•ÂƒÂ?Â† moves Â through: Â the Â streets Â of Â Victorian Â and Â Edwardian Â London Â and Â especially Â 221b Â Baker Â Street. Â The Â character Â Holmes Â is Â as Â English Â as Â his Â surroundings. Â Englishness, Â cultural Â historian Â Ian Â ÂƒÂ—Â…Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ”Â‰Â—Â‡Â•ÇĄÂŠÂƒÂ•Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â’ÂƒÂ•Â–ÂŠÂ—Â?Â†Â”Â‡Â†ÂƒÂ?Â†ÂˆÂ‹ÂˆÂ–Â›Â›Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â•Â„Â‡Â‡Â?Â…Â‘Â?Â•Â‹Â•Â–Â‡Â?Â–ÂŽÂ›ÇŽÂ†Â‡ÂˆÂ‹Â?Â‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂ”Â‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÂƒÂ’Â’Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂ• to Â the Â identity-Ââ€?enduring Â properties Â oÂˆ Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â‡Ç¤ÇŻ9 Â ÂŠÂ‡ Â’Â‘Â–Â‡Â?Â…Â› Â‘Âˆ Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â• ÂƒÂ• ÂƒÂ? ÂƒÂŽÂ?Â‘Â•Â– ÇŽÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â… ÂˆÂ‹Â‰Â—Â”Â‡ÇŻ10 Â Â who Â encapsulates Â a Â certain Â kind Â of Â Englishness Â is Â thus Â tied Â to Â places. Â Â Stoll Â moved Â into Â production Â in Â 1920. Â In Â an Â article Â published Â in Â the Â Kinematograph Â Weekly Â announced Â its Â goal Â of Â making Â ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â™Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â™Â’Â‡Â‘Â’ÂŽÂ‡ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ”Â‘Â—Â?Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â™Â‘Â”ÂŽÂ†ÇŽÂ™ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ”Â– Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‰Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ– Â?Â‰ÂŽÂ‹Â•ÂŠ Â’Â‡Â‘Â’ÂŽÂ‡ Â”Â‡Â•Â’Â‘Â?Â†Â• Â–Â‘ÇŻÇŁ ÇŽÂˆÂ‹Â?Â‡ÇĄ Â™ÂŠÂ‘ÂŽÂ‡Â•Â‘Â?Â‡ Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â•ÇĄ Â•Â‡Â– Â‹Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â’Â‡Â”ÂˆÂ‡Â…Â– Â„Â‡ÂƒÂ—Â–Â‹Â‡Â• Â‘Âˆ English Â scenery, Â or Â in Â the Â appropriate Â settings Â to Â which Â they Â belong Â in Â every Â part Â of Â EuroÂ’Â‡Ç¤ÇŻ11 Â Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ–ÂŠÂ—Â•Â?Â‘Â–Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›ÂƒÂ•Â•Â‡Â”Â–Â‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?Â’Â‘Â”Â–ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â‘ÂˆÇŽÂƒÂ’Â’Â”Â‘Â’Â”Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â•Â‡Â–Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â•ÇŻÇĄÂ„Â—Â–Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?Â’Â‘Â”Â–ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ ÇŽÂ?Â‰ÂŽÂ‹Â•ÂŠ Â•Â…Â‡Â?Â‡Â”Â›ÇŻ Â–Â‘ Â–Â‡ÂŽÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‰ ÇŽÂ?Â‰ÂŽÂ‹Â•ÂŠÇŻ Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â•Ç¤ Â‘Â›ÂŽÂ‡ Â•Â‘ÂŽÂ† Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â”Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â• Â–Â‘ ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â• Â–Â‘ Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽ Â‹Â? ÍłÍťÍ´Í˛ÇĄ having Â bought Â them Â back Â at Â great Â expense Â from Â the Â French Â production Â company Â Ă‰clair. Â
ÂŽÂ–ÂŠÂ‘Â—Â‰ÂŠ 2Â…ÂŽÂƒÂ‹Â”ÇŻÂ• ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â–Â‡Â‡Â?Â• Â™Â‡Â”Â‡ ÂŽÂƒÂ”Â‰Â‡ÂŽÂ› Â?ÂƒÂ†Â‡ ÂƒÂ– Â‡ÂšÂŠÂ‹ÂŽÂŽ-Ââ€?on-Ââ€?Â‡Âƒ Â‘Â? Â?Â‰ÂŽÂƒÂ?Â†ÇŻÂ• Â•Â‘Â—Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ•Â– Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 8Kinematograph Â Weekly Â (6 Â January Â 1921), Â 91. Â 9 Â Ian Â Baucom, Â Out Â of Â Place: Â Englishness, Â Empire, Â and Â the Â Locations Â of Â Identity Â (Princeton: Â Princeton Â University Â Press, Â 1999), Â 4. Â 10 Â The Â 1921 Â Â Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ’ÂŠ Â‡Â‡Â?ÂŽÂ›ÇŻÂ•
Â Â”Â‡Â˜Â‹Â‡Â™ Â‘Âˆ Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ• Â•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â• Â‘Âˆ Adventures Â of Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â tells Â us Â Sherlock Â Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â• Â‹Â• ÇŽÂƒÂŽÂ?Â‘st Â a Â historic Â figure, Â and Â it Â is Â pleasant Â to Â see Â him Â moving Â through Â his Â well-Ââ€?known Â ÂƒÂ†Â˜Â‡Â?Â–Â—Â”Â‡Â•Ç¤ÇŻKinematograph Â Weekly Â (12 Â May Â 1921), Â 60. Â Â 11 Â Kinematograph Â Weekly Â (1 Â January Â 1920), Â 45. Â 12 Â Conan Â Doyle Â sold Â the Â rights Â to Â his Â stories Â to Â Ă‰clair Â in Â 1911. Â Ă‰clair Â made Â 8 Â Franco-Ââ€?British Â productions Â based Â on Â his Â
stories, Â while Â the Â Â Samuelson Â company Â produced Â two Â British Â films Â A Â Study Â in Â Scarlet Â (1914), Â and Â The Â Valley Â of Â Fear Â (1916). Â Stoll Â were Â the Â first, Â however, Â to Â embark Â on Â a Â dedicated Â and Â extended Â programme Â of Â adaptations Â with Â regular Â Â”Â‡ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ•Â‡Â’ÂƒÂ–Â–Â‡Â”Â?Â•ÂƒÂ?Â†Â’Â‡Â”ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â?Â‡Â”Â•Ç¤Â‘Â”Â”Â‹Â•ÇĄÇŽÂ?Â?Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â•ÂŠÂ•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â•ÇĄÇŻÍłÍťÇ¤ Â 79 Â Â
Â coast, Â Stoll Â was Â the Â first Â company Â to Â place Â Holmes Â and Â the Â detective Â firmly Â in Â British, Â and Â more Â often Â than Â not, Â London Â settings. Â Â Stoll Â produced Â its Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â films Â as Â a Â series Â with Â regular Â releases Â patterns Â and Â performers. Â ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â• Â™ÂƒÂ• Â’ÂƒÂ”Â– Â‘Âˆ ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â” Â…ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â† ÇŽÂ?Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Â– Â—Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â”Â•ÇŻ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â•Â›Â•Â–Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ› Â„Â”Â‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÂ– Â’Â‘Â’Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ” literary Â works Â to Â the Â screen.13 Â These Â literary Â adaptatÂ‹Â‘Â?Â•Â…Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â„Â‡Â†Â‡Â•Â…Â”Â‹Â„Â‡Â†ÂƒÂ•ÇŽÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‹Â–ÂƒÂ‰Â‡Â…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÇŻ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÂƒÂ…Â…Â‘Â”Â†Â‹Â?Â‰Â–Â‘ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹ÂƒÂ?Â•ÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ‹Â?Â‡Â‘Â”Â–Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ?Â†Â”Â›Â‘Â?Â›Â‹ÂšÂ‘Â?ÂˆÂ‘Â…Â—Â•Â‡Â†Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÇŽÂ”Â‡Â’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘Âˆ ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ”Â› Â–Â‡ÂšÂ–Â•ÇĄ ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‡ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â–Â• ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂŽÂƒÂ?Â†Â•Â…ÂƒÂ’Â‡Â•Ç¤ÇŻ Â
Â Â‡Â”Â‹Â–ÂƒÂ‰Â‡ Â…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â› ÂƒÂ”Â‰Â—Â‡ÇĄ ÂŠÂƒÂ• Â„Â‡Â‡Â? ÇŽÂ†Â‡Â‡Â’ÂŽÂ›
implicated Â in Â the Â ideÂ‘ÂŽÂ‘Â‰Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ…Â‘Â?Â•Â–Â”Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂŽÂ’ÂƒÂ•Â–ÇŻÇ¤15 Â Stoll Â prided Â itself Â on Â bringing Â English Â stories Â and Â landscapes Â to Â cinema Â patrons. Â The Â Kinematograph Â Weekly Â Â”Â‡Â’Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â†ÂŽÂ›Â’Â”ÂƒÂ‹Â•Â‡Â†Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ•ÂŠÂ‡Â”ÂŽÂ‘Â…Â?Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â•ÂƒÂ†ÂƒÂ’Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÇŽÂ’Â‹Â…Â–Â—Â”Â‡Â•Â“Â—Â‡Â?Â‡Â•Â•ÇŻÂ‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹r Â settings, Â 16Â™ÂŠÂ‹ÂŽÂ‡ Â•Â‹Â?Â—ÂŽÂ–ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â‘Â—Â•ÂŽÂ› Â…Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â…Â‹Â•Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• ÂˆÂ‘Â” Â…Â‘Â?Â…Â‡Â?Â–Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â?Â‰ ÇŽÂ‘Â‘ Â?Â—Â…ÂŠÇŻ Â‘Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Ç¤ 17 Â The Â trade Â
Â’ÂƒÂ’Â‡Â” Â–ÂŠÂ—Â• Â”Â‡Â…Â‘Â‰Â?Â‹Â•Â‡Â† Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ• Â’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â• Â’Â”Â‹Â˜Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â‰Â‡Â† Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â…Â‡Â?Â‹Â… Â’Â‘Â–Â‡Â?Â–Â‹ÂƒÂŽ Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â†Â‡Â–Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â• Â‘Â˜Â‡Â” Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â…Â‘Â?Â’ÂŽÂ‡ÂšÂ‹Â–Â‹Â‡Â• Â‘Âˆ Â’ÂŽÂ‘Â–Ç¤ Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ• ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ”Â› Â adaptations Â were Â constructing Â an Â idea Â of Â Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‹Â‡Â†Â’Â‘Â’Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ”ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ–Â—Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â†Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡Â’Â”Â‘Â?Â‘Â–Â‡Â†ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â†Â‡ÂƒÂ‘ÂˆÇŽÂ?Â‰ÂŽÂ‹Â•ÂŠÂ?Â‡Â•Â•ÇŻÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ– looked Â beyond Â a Â cool Â demeanour Â and Â a Â tweed Â suit. Â Â Â The Â Stoll Â version Â of Â the Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â story Â The Â Final Â Problem Â (1923), Â changes Â the Â location Â of Â Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â•ÇŻÂ• ÂˆÂ‹Â?ÂƒÂŽ Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â™Â†Â‘Â™Â? Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â‘Â”Â‹ÂƒÂ”Â–Â› ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â? Â‡Â‹Â…ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â„ÂƒÂ…ÂŠ ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ• Â‹Â? Â™Â‹Â–ÂœÂ‡Â”ÂŽÂƒÂ?Â†ÇĄ Â–Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂƒÂ” ÂŽÂ‡Â•Â• glamorous Â Cheddar Â Gorge Â in Â the Â South-Ââ€?West Â of Â England. Â Many Â considerations, Â including Â budget, Â may Â have Â affected Â this Â decision. Â However, Â instead Â of Â hiding Â the Â fact Â that Â this Â is Â Cheddar, Â and Â not Â Switzerland, Â the Â film Â seemingly Â celebrates Â this Â change Â in Â location. Â In Â a Â shot Â of Â Moriarty Â standing Â Â‘Â—Â–Â•Â‹Â†Â‡ Âƒ Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â’ ÂˆÂ—ÂŽÂŽ Â‘Âˆ Â–Â‘Â—Â”Â‹Â•Â– Â’ÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ’ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â?ÂƒÂŽÂ‹ÂƒÇĄ ÂˆÂ‘Â” Â‹Â?Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇĄ Â’Â‘Â•Â–Â‡Â”Â• ÂˆÂ‘Â” ÂŠÂ‡Â†Â†ÂƒÂ”ÇŻÂ• Â…ÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â• and Â local Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
13 Â Â‘Â”Â”Â‹Â•ÇĄÇŽÂ?Â?Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â•ÂŠÂ•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â•ÇĄÇŻÍłÍťÇ¤ Â
14 Â ÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ‹Â?Â‡ Â‘Â”Â–Â‡Â” ÂƒÂ?Â† Â”Â›Â‘Â?Â› Â‹ÂšÂ‘Â?ÇĄ ÇŽ Â?Â–Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇŻÇĄ Â‹Â? Picture Â Perfect: Â Landscape, Â Place Â and Â Travel Â in Â British Â Cinema Â
Before Â 1930, Â edited Â by Â Laraine Â Porter Â and Â Bryony Â Dixon Â (Exeter: Â The Â Exeter Â Press, Â 2007), Â 1. Â Â 15 Â Â‘Â”Â–Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ?Â†Â‹ÂšÂ‘Â?ÇĄÇŽ Â?Â–Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇŻÇĄÍłÇ¤ Â 16Kinematograph Â Weekly Â (10 Â March Â 1921), Â 81. Â Â 17 Â Kinematograph Â Weekly Â criticises Â The Â Sign Â of Â Four Â ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‹Â?Â…ÂŽÂ—Â†Â‹Â?Â‰ÇŽÂ‘Â‘Â?Â—Â…ÂŠÂ‘Â?Â†Â‘Â?ÇŻÇ¤Kinematograph Â Weekly Â (3 Â May Â
80 Â Â
Â attractions Â are Â clearly Â visible Â behind Â him. Â Â Swapping Â Switzerland Â for Â Cheddar, Â and Â making Â it Â plain Â to Â see, Â seems Â to Â assert Â that Â Holmes Â is Â an Â exclusively Â English, Â or Â British, Â figure Â not Â to Â be Â found Â on Â foreign Â shores. Â His Â Englishness Â is Â asserted Â by Â his Â moving Â through Â and Â inhabiting Â English Â places. Â He Â is Â Holmes Â of Â Baker Â Street, Â LondonČ„Â‹Â?Â‘Â”Â†Â‡Â”Â–Â‘Â’Â‘Â”Â–Â”ÂƒÂ›ÂŠÂ‹Â?ÇĄÂ–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ•ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•Â–ÂŠÂ—Â•Â’Â‘Â”Â–Â”ÂƒÂ›Â™ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ÂŠÂ‡ comes Â from. Â ÂŠÂ‡Â?ÂƒÂŒÂ‘Â”Â‹Â–Â›Â‘ÂˆÂ‘Â›ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÂ•Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â•Â”Â‡Â˜Â‘ÂŽÂ˜Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â‘Â—Â?Â†Â‘Â?Â†Â‘Â?ÇŻÂ•Â‡Â•Â–Â?Â†ÂƒÂ?Â†Â”Â—Â”ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â‡Â–Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â•Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â?Â‡ Â Counties. Â Despite Â this, Â when Â literary Â critic Â Franco Â Moretti Â conducted Â a Â poll Â among Â friends Â and Â Â…Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ‰Â—Â‡Â•ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â–Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â•ÇŻÂ•Â…Â‹Â–Â›Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ?Â•Â™Â‡Â”Â•ÇŽÂ™Â‡Â”Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ˜Â‡Â”Â›ÂˆÂ‹Â”Â?ÇŁÂˆÂ‘Â‰ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ•Â–Â?Â†ÇĄÂ„ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â†ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â›Â•ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘Â…Â?Â•ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â‡Â•ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â™Â‡Â”Ç¤ÇŻ Â 18 Â Â?ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â•Â–Â—Â†Â›Â‘ÂˆÂ‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â•ÇŻÂ•ondon, Â Andrew Â Smith Â describes Â how, Â Â†Â‡Â•Â’Â‹Â–Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â•ÇŻ Â‘ÂˆÂ–Â‡Â? Â”Â—Â”ÂƒÂŽ Â•Â‡Â–Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â•ÇĄ Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â• Â…Â‘Â?Â‡Â• Â–Â‘ Â’Â‡Â”Â•Â‘Â?Â‹ÂˆÂ› Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â…Â‹Â–Â›Ç¤ Â 19 Â He Â points Â to Â ÂƒÂ–Â•Â‘Â?ÇŻÂ• ÂƒÂ•Â•Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‹Â? ÇŽÂŠÂ‡ Â‡Â•Â‹Â†Â‡Â?Â– ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‡Â?Â–ÇŻ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â• ÇŽÂŽÂ‘Â˜Â‡Â† Â–Â‘ ÂŽÂ‹Â‡ Â‹Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â˜Â‡Â”Â› Â…Â‡Â?Â–Â”Â‡ Â‘Âˆ ÂˆÂ‹Â˜Â‡ millions Â of Â people, Â with Â his Â filaments Â stretching Â out Â and Â running Â through Â them, Â responsive Â to Â Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”Â›Â”Â—Â?Â‘Â—Â”Â‘Â”Â•Â—Â•Â’Â‹Â…Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ—Â?Â•Â‘ÂŽÂ˜Â‡Â†Â…Â”Â‹Â?Â‡Ç¤ÇŻ20 Â Watson Â here Â imagines Â Holmes Â as Â being Â physically Â part Â of, Â and Â joined Â with, Â the Â city Â and Â its Â inhabitantsČ„his Â is Â a Â metropolitan Â imagination. Â Whether Â Â‘Â” Â?Â‘Â– Â‘Â›ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÂ• Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â• ÂƒÂ…Â–Â—ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ› Â?Â‘Â˜Â‡Â• Â–ÂŠÂ”Â‘Â—Â‰ÂŠ Â‘Â?Â†Â‘Â? Â‹Â• Â–ÂŠÂ—Â• Â‹Â”Â”Â‡ÂŽÂ‡Â˜ÂƒÂ?Â– Â–Â‘ Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ†Â‡Â”Â•Ç¤ Â‘Â?Â†Â‘Â? Â‹Â• essential Â to Â the Â Holmes Â stories Â because Â the Â city Â grounds Â the Â characterisation Â of Â Holmes. Â No Â surprise, Â therefore, Â that Â putting Â Holmes Â on Â the Â screen, Â Stoll Â put Â London Â there Â too. Â Â Â Â
Â?ÂƒÂ†Â†Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â–Â‘Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ•ÂŠÂ‡Â”ÂŽÂ‘Â…Â?Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â•ÂƒÂ†Â˜Â‡Â?Â–Â—Â”Â‡Â•ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ Sherlock Â and Â Beyond Â programme Â included Â SÂ–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ• ÂƒÂ†ÂƒÂ’Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â• Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂƒÂš Â‘ÂŠÂ?Â‡Â”ÇŻÂ• Â•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â•ÇĄ The Â Mystery Â of Â Dr. Â Fu-ÂManchu. Â This Â series Â Â’Â”Â‡Â†Â‘Â?Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ?Â–ÂŽÂ› Â—Â•Â‡Â• Â‘Â?Â†Â‘Â? ÂŽÂ‘Â…ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•Ç¤ ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â•ÇŻ Â…Â‡Â?Â–Â”ÂƒÂŽ Â’Â”Â‘Â–ÂƒÂ‰Â‘Â?Â‹Â•Â–Â•ÇĄ Â‰Â‡Â?Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â?ÂƒÂ? Â†Â‡Â–Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ Nayland Â Smith Â and Â his Â assistant Â Dr. Â Petrie Â pursue Â their Â nemesis, Â Chinese Â crime Â overlord Â Dr. Â Fu-Ââ€? Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
18 Â Franco Â Moretti, Â The Â Atlas Â of Â the Â European Â Novel1800-Â1900 Â (London: Â Verso, Â 1998), Â 134 Â 19 Â Â?Â†Â”Â‡Â™ Â?Â‹Â–ÂŠÇĄ ÇŽÂ‹Â•Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â‹Â?Â‰ Â”Â„ÂƒÂ? ÂƒÂ?ÇŁ ÂŠÂ‡Â”ÂŽÂ‘Â…Â? Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â•ÇŻÂ• Â‘Â?Â†Â‘Â?ÇĄÇŻ Â‹Â? London Â Eyes: Â Reflections Â in Â Text Â and Â Image, Â
edited Â by Â Gail Â Cunningham Â and Â Stephen Â Barber Â (Oxford: Â Berghahn Â Books, Â 2007), Â 56. Â 20 Â Â?Â‹Â–ÂŠÇĄÇŽÂ‹Â•Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â‹Â?Â‰Â”Â„ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂ?ÇĄÇŻÍˇÍ¸Č€ ÇŽÂ‡ÂŽÂ‘Â˜Â‡Â†Â–Â‘ÂŽÂ‹Â‡Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â˜Â‡Â”Â›Â…Â‡Â?Â–Â”Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂˆÂ‹Â˜Â‡Â?Â‹ÂŽÂŽÂ‹Â‘Â?Â•Â‘Âˆ Â’Â‡Â‘Â’ÂŽÂ‡ÇĄ Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂŠÂ‹Â•ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂƒÂ?Â‡Â?Â–Â•
stretching Â out Â and Â running Â through Â them, Â responsive Â to Â every Â little Â rumour Â or Â suspicion Â of Â unsolved Â crime. Â Appreciation Â of Â Nature Â found Â no Â place Â among Â his Â many Â gifts, Â and Â his Â only Â change Â was Â when Â he Â turned Â his Â mind Â from Â the Â evil-Ââ€?Â†Â‘Â‡Â”Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â–Â‘Â™Â?Â–Â‘Â–Â”ÂƒÂ…Â?Â†Â‘Â™Â?ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â„Â”Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…Â‘Â—Â?Â–Â”Â›Ç¤ÇŻÂ”Â–ÂŠÂ—Â”Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â›ÂŽÂ‡ÇĄÇŽÂŠÂ‡Â‡Â•Â‹Â†Â‡Â?Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‡Â?Â–ÇŻÇĄÂ‹Â? Â The Â Memoirs Â of Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â (London: Â The Â Folio Â Society, Â 1993), Â 161. Â 81 Â Â
Â Manchu, Â through Â a Â number Â of Â foggy, Â dank Â locations Â predominantly Â situated Â in Â Limehouse, Â the Â East Â End, Â and Â along Â the Â Thames. Â The Â Mystery Â of Â Dr. Â Fu-ÂManchu Â series Â seemingly Â takes Â the Â most Â sensational Â and Â memorable Â settings Â later Â critics Â associate Â with Â the Â Holmes Â talesČ„ÇŽÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ•Â–Â?Â†ÇĄ Â„ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â†ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â›Â•ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â…Â?Â•ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â‡Â•ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â™Â‡Â”ÇŻČ„ÂƒÂ?Â†Â’Â—Â–Â•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â…Â‡Â?Â–Â”Â‡Â•Â–ÂƒÂ‰Â‡Ç¤Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ•Â’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•Â‘Âˆ ÂƒÂšÂ‘ÂŠÂ?Â‡Â”ÇŻÂ•Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â•Â–ÂŠÂ—Â•Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â”Â…Â‡Â?Â–Â”ÂƒÂŽÂ’Â”Â‘Â–ÂƒÂ‰Â‘Â?Â‹Â•Â–Â•Â‹Â†Â‡Â?Â–Â‹ÂˆÂ‹ÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ›ÇŽÂ”Â‹Â–Â‹Â•ÂŠÂ†Â‡Â–Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡Â•ÇŻÂ?Â‘Â–Â•Â‘ much Â by Â mimiÂ…Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â…ÂŽÂ‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â• ÂƒÂ?Â† Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‡Â” Â‘Âˆ Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â• ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂƒÂ–Â•Â‘Â? Č‹ÂƒÂŽÂ–ÂŠÂ‘Â—Â‰ÂŠ Â?Â‹Â–ÂŠÇŻÂ• Â…Â‘Â‘ÂŽ temperament Â and Â deductive Â abilities Â mirror Â those Â of Â Holmes), Â but Â by Â moving Â the Â through Â the Â most Â Â‹Â…Â‘Â?Â‹Â…Â•Â’ÂƒÂ…Â‡Â•ÂƒÂ•Â•Â‘Â…Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â†Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â›ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÂ•Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‡Â”Â•Ç¤ Â Sherlock Â and Â Beyond Â programmer Â Nathalie Â Morris Â describes Â how Â Conan-Ââ€?Â‘Â›ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÂ•Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â•Â’Â”Â‘Â˜Â‹Â†Â‡Â†Âƒ ÇŽÂ…Â”Â‘Â•Â•-Ââ€?class Â travelogue Â that Â [...] Â spanning Â locations Â as Â diverse Â as Â dockside Â opium Â dens, Â country Â manors, Â working-Ââ€?Â…ÂŽÂƒÂ•Â•Â’Â—Â„Â•ÇĄÂ‰Â‡Â?Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â?ÂƒÂ?ÇŻÂ•Â…ÂŽÂ—Â„Â•ÂƒÂ?Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…Â‘Â”Â”Â‹Â†Â‘Â”Â•Â‘ÂˆÂŠÂ‹Â–Â‡ÂŠÂƒÂŽÂŽÇĄÂ‡Â˜Â‹Â†Â‡Â?Â–ÂŽÂ›Â‡ÂšÂ‡Â”Â…ised Â a Â strong Â fascination Â for Â middle-Ââ€?class Â readers Â commuting Â to Â work Â from Â their Â comfortable Â suburban Â ÂŠÂ‘Â?Â‡Â•Ç¤ÇŻ21 Â British Â detective Â stories Â granted Â readers Â entry Â to Â illicit Â or Â inaccessible Â spaces. Â Literary Â Â…Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â…Â‹ÂŽÂŽÂ‹ÂƒÂ?Â–Â‘Â™Â‡Â†Â‡Â•Â…Â”Â‹Â„Â‡Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â™Â‹Â–Â‹Â•ÇŽÂ’Â‘Â•Â•Â‹Â„ÂŽÂ‡Â–Â‘travel Â alone, Â or Â even Â to Â travel Â incognito, Â but Â it Â Â‹Â•Â?Â‘Â–Â’Â‘Â•Â•Â‹Â„ÂŽÂ‡Â–Â‘Â?Â‘Â˜Â‡Â‘Â?Â‡ÇŻÂ•Â„Â‘Â†Â›Â–ÂŠÂ”Â‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÂ•Â’ÂƒÂ…Â‡Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ”Â‡Â‡Â†Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â†Â‹Â?Â’Â—Â?Â‹Â–Â›Â‘Â?Â‡Â‡Â?ÂŒÂ‘Â›Â•ÂƒÂ•Âƒ reader Â or Â a Â writer Â in Â the Â privacy Â of Â the Â boudoir Â or Â the Â study, Â confined Â only Â by Â the Â bounds Â of Â the Â individual Â imÂƒÂ‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Ç¤ÇŻ22 Â The Â pleasure Â of Â reading Â is Â therefore Â a Â touristic Â one Â in Â which Â the Â reader Â is Â able Â to Â travel, Â experiencing Â places Â imaginatively. Â The Â settings Â of Â British Â detective Â stories Â could Â thus Â attract Â readers Â as Â much Â as Â intricate Â plotting Â and Â characterisation. Â No Â surprise, Â therefore, Â that Â the Â foggy Â back Â alleys Â and Â opium Â dens Â of Â the Â Docklands Â and Â East Â should Â leave Â such Â a Â lasting Â impression Â on Â a Â middle-Ââ€?Â…ÂŽÂƒÂ•Â•Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ†Â‡Â”Â•ÂŠÂ‹Â’Ç¤Â‡ÂƒÂ†Â‡Â”Â•ÂŠÂƒÂ†Â„Â‡Â…Â‘Â?Â‡Â˜Â‹Â”Â–Â—ÂƒÂŽÂ–Â‘Â—Â”Â‹Â•Â–Â•Â‡ÂšÂ’ÂŽÂ‘Â”Â‹Â?Â‰Â‘Â?Â†Â‘Â?ÇŻÂ• streets. Â Watching Â films, Â spectators Â also Â become Â tourists. Â A Â 1920 Â Kinematograph Â Weekly Â Â ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‹Â…ÂŽÂ‡ÇĄÇŽÂ”Â‡ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ Â‘Â‘ ÂƒÂ?Â› Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â‹Â‘Â”Â•ÇŻ ÂƒÂ”Â‰Â—Â‡Â• Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â‹Â? Â?Â‡Â‰ÂŽÂ‡Â…Â–Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‡ÂšÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹Â‘Â” Â•Â…Â‡Â?Â‡ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â•ÂŠ Â’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â‡Â” Â‹Â‰Â?Â‘Â”Â‡Â•
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 21Â‘Â”Â”Â‹Â•ÇĄÇŽÂ?Â?Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â•ÂŠÂ•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â•ÇĄÇŻÍ´ÍşÇ¤ Â 22 Â
William Â Stowe, Â Going Â Abroad: Â European Â Travel Â in Â Nineteenth-ÂCentury Â American Â Culture Â (Princeton: Â Princeton Â
University Â Press, Â 1994), Â 16. Â 82 Â Â
Â Â…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÇŻÂ•Â‰Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ–ÂƒÂ†Â˜ÂƒÂ?Â–ÂƒÂ‰Â‡Â‘Â˜Â‡Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â–ÂƒÂ‰Â‡ÇŁÇŽÂ–Â‘Â„Â”Â‹Â?Â‰Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â™Â‘Â”ÂŽÂ†Â„Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡Â‹Â–Â•Â’ÂƒÂ–Â”Â‘Â?Â•ÇŻÇ¤23 Â Cinema Â is Â able Â to Â Â‘Â’Â‡Â? Â‘Â—Â– Â™ÂŠÂƒÂ– ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ? Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â”Â‹Â•Â– ÂƒÂ”Â› Â?Â? Â‘ÂƒÂ?Â‡ Â…ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ• ÇŽÂƒÂ?Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â” Â•Â’ÂƒÂ…Â‡Č„Âƒ Â?Â‡Â™ Â‘Â” Ç˛Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Çł Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â‡ÇŻ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â–ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â• Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â’Â‡Â…Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‘Â” Â•Â‘Â?Â‡Â™ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ ÂŠÂ‡Č€Â•ÂŠÂ‡ ÂŠÂƒÂ• Â?Â‡Â˜Â‡Â” Â„Â‡Â‡Â? Â„Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡ÇŻÇ¤ Â 24 Â Â—Â•Â– ÂƒÂ• Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ? Â‘Â›ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÂ• Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â• opened Â out Â inaccessible Â spaces Â to Â a Â middle-Ââ€?class Â readership, Â films Â present Â viewers Â with Â spaces Â they Â can Â travel Â in Â their Â minds. Â Â Presupposing Â that Â imaginative Â travel Â is Â an Â essential Â function Â of Â both Â cinema Â and Â literature, Â then Â surely Â one Â might Â conclude Â that Â films Â adapted Â from Â stories Â so Â closely Â associated Â with Â parÂ–Â‹Â…Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ”Â•Â‡Â–Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â•ÂƒÂ–Â–Â”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‡Â†Â˜Â‹Â‡Â™Â‡Â”Â•Â…Â‘Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â?Â‘Â–ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÇŽÂ•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â•ÇŻbut Â for Â the Â spaces Â of Â the Â stories, Â opened Â out Â to Â them Â via Â the Â screen. Â Â The Â climactic Â scenes Â of Â The Â Sign Â of Â Four Â Â–Â‘Â—Â”Â‘Â?Â†Â‘Â?Ç¤Â•Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ‰Â‡Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂƒÂ’Â‹Â–ÂƒÂŽÇŻÂ•ÂˆÂƒÂ?Â‘Â—Â•ÂŽÂƒÂ?Â†Â?ÂƒÂ”Â?Â• flash Â before Â the Â viewer, Â so Â do Â descriptive Â title Â cards, Â informing Â viewers Â that Â they Â are Â looking Â at Â Kew Â Bridge, Â or Â the Â Bank Â of Â England. Â The Â film Â ends Â with Â a Â chase Â along Â the Â Thames. Â Shots Â track Â alongside Â a Â speeding Â boat Â that Â passes Â under Â every Â major Â bridge Â over Â the Â Thames. Â The Â sequence Â is Â criticised Â by Â the Â Kinematograph Â Weekly Â ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‹Â–Â•ÇŽÂ‰Â—Â‹Â†Â‡-Ââ€?Â„Â‘Â‘Â?Â”Â‡ÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â•ÇŻÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â•ÂŽÂ‘Â™Â†Â‘Â™Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â’ÂŽÂ‘Â–Ç¤25 Â I Â Â™Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†ÂƒÂ”Â‰Â—Â‡ÇĄÂŠÂ‘Â™Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â„Â›Â‹Â‰Â?Â‘Â”Â‹Â?Â‰Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‡ÂšÂ‹Â‰Â‡Â?Â…Â‹Â‡Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ’ÂŽÂ‘Â–Â‹Â?ÂˆÂƒÂ˜Â‘Â—Â”Â‘ÂˆÇŽÂ‰Â—Â‹Â†Â‡Â„Â‘Â‘Â?Â”Â‡ÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â•ÇŻÇĄ this Â sequence Â makes Â explicit Â the Â implicit Â function Â of Â the Â filmČ„to Â take Â the Â viewer Â through Â the Â Â•Â’ÂƒÂ…Â‡Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â›Ç¤ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â”Â‰Â‡Â?Â”Â‡ÇĄÂ‘ÂƒÂ?Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â‰Â—Â‡Â•ÇĄÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•Â’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â‡ÂƒÂ’ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ•Â—Â”Â‡ÇŽÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â–Â‘Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â–Â”ÂƒÂ˜Â‡ÂŽÂ‘Â‰Â—Â‡Ç¤ÇŻ26ÂŠÂ‡ Â‹Â‰Â? Â‘Âˆ Â‘Â—Â”ÇŻÂ• last Â sequence Â is Â a Â travelogue.27 Â Cutting Â between Â a Â series Â of Â shots Â of Â picture-Ââ€?Â’Â‘Â•Â–Â…ÂƒÂ”Â† ÂŽÂ‘Â…ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‹Â?ÂƒÂŽ Â•Â‡Â“Â—Â‡Â?Â…Â‡ Â?Â‹Â”Â”Â‘Â”Â• Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â–Â”ÂƒÂ˜Â‡ÂŽÂ‘Â‰Â—Â‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÇŻÂ• Â†Â‹Â•ÂŒÂ—Â?Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ editing Â between Â landscapes, Â inter-Ââ€?titles, Â and Â people. Â It Â follows Â what Â film Â historian Â Jennifer Â Lyn Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 23On Â thÂ‡ Â—Â•Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â‡ÂšÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹Â‘Â”Â•ÇŁ ÇŽ ÂˆÂ‹Â”Â•Â–ÇĄ Â„Â‡Â…ÂƒÂ—Â•Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â’Â—Â„ÂŽÂ‹Â… Â†Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ?Â†Â• Â‹Â–Ç˘ Â•Â‡Â…Â‘Â?Â†ÇĄ Â„Â‡Â…ÂƒÂ—Â•Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â…Â‡Â?Â‹Â… Â”Â‡Â•Â‘Â—Â”Â…Â‡Â• Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â•
beautiful Â land Â are Â practically Â unexploited Â and Â are Â strongly Â coveted Â by Â the Â foreign Â producer; Â third, Â because Â the Â natural Â Â‡ÂšÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹Â‘Â” Â‹Â• Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â„Â‹Â‰Â‰Â‡Â•Â– Ç˛Â–ÂƒÂŽÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â’Â‘Â‹Â?Â–Çł Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Âƒ ÂŠÂƒÂ• ÂƒÂ‰ÂƒÂ‹Â?Â•Â– Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂŽÂ‡Â‰Â‹Â–Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡ Â•Â–ÂƒÂ‰Â‡ÇĄ ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂˆÂ‘Â” Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‘Â? ÂƒÂŽÂ‘Â?Â‡ should Â be Â cultivated...The Â claim Â of Â the Â kinema Â to Â bring Â the Â world Â before Â its Â patrons Â cannot Â be Â justified Â if Â we Â are Â content Â to Â specialise Â on Â the Â artificial Â resources Â oÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â–Â—Â†Â‹Â‘Ç¤ÇŻKinematograph Â Weekly Â (18 Â March Â 1920), Â 92. Â 24 Â ÂƒÂ”Â›Â?Â?Â‘ÂƒÂ?Â‡ÇĄÇŽÇ˛ÇĽÂ™ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â†Â‹Â”Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â…Â‡ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â„Â‘Â†Â›Â‹Â•Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â‰Â‡Â†Ç¤ÇłÇŁÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â˜Â‹Â?Â‰ Â?ÂƒÂ‰Â‡ÇŻÇĄWide Â Angle Â
7, Â 1 Â &2, Â 42. Â
25 Â Kinematograph Â Weekly Â (3 Â May Â 1923). Â 26 Â Â‘ÂƒÂ?Â‡ÇĄÇŽÇ˛ÇĽÂ™ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â†Â‹Â”Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â…Â‡ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â„Â‘Â†Â›Â‹Â•Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â‰Â‡Â†ÇĄÇłÇŻÍśÍ´Ç¤ Â 27 Â The Â term Â travelogue Â was Â purportedly Â coined Â by Â the Â well-Ââ€?known Â travel Â lecturer Â Burton Â Holmes Â in Â 1908 Â to Â describe Â
the Â short Â travel Â lecture Â with Â lantern Â slides Â presented Â between Â reels Â at Â motion Â picture Â shows. Â Richard Â M. Â Barsam, Â Nonfiction Â Film: Â A Â Critical Â History, Â Revised Â and Â Expanded Â (Bloomington Â and Â Indianapolis: Â Indiana Â University Â Press, Â 1973), Â 42. Â
83 Â Â
Â Â‡Â–Â‡Â”Â•Â‘Â?Â…ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ•ÂƒÇŽÂŽÂ‘Â‰Â‹Â…Â‘ÂˆÂ…Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇĄÇŻÂ‹Â?Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÇŽÂ’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â”Â˜Â‡Â•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?Â–egrity Â of Â each Â shot Â rather Â Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ? Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â…Â‘Â?Â?Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â• Â„Â‡Â–Â™Â‡Â‡Â? Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â–Â• Â—Â•Â‹Â?Â‰ Â…Â‘Â?Â–Â‹Â?Â—Â‘Â—Â• Â•Â’ÂƒÂ…Â‡ Â‘Â” Â?ÂƒÂ–Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‰ ÂƒÂ? ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Ç¤ÇŻ 28 Â In Â its Â Â?Â‘Â•Â–Â…ÂŽÂ‹Â?ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‹Â…Â•Â‡Â“Â—Â‡Â?Â…Â‡ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â–ÂŠÂ—Â•Â‡Â•Â…ÂŠÂ‡Â™Â•ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂ”Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â˜Â‡ÂŽÂ‘Â‰Â‹Â…Â‹Â?ÂˆÂƒÂ˜Â‘Â—Â”Â‘ÂˆÂƒÇŽÂŽÂ‘Â‰Â‹Â…Â‘ÂˆÂ…Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇĄÇŻ making Â explicit Â the Â all-Ââ€?important Â touristic Â function Â of Â the Â film Â Â Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ•ÂƒÂ†ÂƒÂ’Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÇĄÂ–Â‹Â?Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â†ÂƒÂ‰ÂƒÂ‹Â?ÇĄÂ’Â—Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â…Â‡Â?Â‹Â…Â’Â‘Â–Â‡Â?Â–Â‹ÂƒÂŽÂ‘ÂˆÂ•Â‡Â–Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â„Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â†Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ?Â†Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ’ÂŽÂ‘Â–Ç¤ In Â The Â Final Â Problem, Â languid Â panoramic Â shots Â across Â the Â gorge Â diffuse Â the Â tension Â of Â the Â climactic Â struggle Â between Â Holmes Â and Â Moriarty Â as Â they Â scale Â the Â cliffs Â of Â Cheddar. Â These Â shots Â do Â little Â to Â set Â up Â the Â dramatic Â fall Â that Â will Â follow, Â but Â do Â succeed Â in Â showing Â off Â the Â scenery Â of Â a Â popular Â Â™Â‡Â•Â–Â…Â‘Â—Â?Â–Â”Â›Â”Â‡Â•Â‘Â”Â–Ç¤ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÇŻÂ•Â?Â‘Â”Â‡ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â–Â‘Â—Â”Â‹Â•Â–Â‹Â…Â•Â—Â„Â–Â‡ÂšÂ–Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÂŠÂƒÂ•Â„Â‡Â‡Â?Â’Â”Â‡Â˜iously Â hinted Â at Â in Â Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â…Â…ÂƒÂ•Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂŽÂƒÂ’Â’Â‡ÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ’Â‘Â•Â–Â‡Â”Â•ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â˜ÂƒÂ”Â‹Â‘Â—Â•Â–Â‘Â—Â”Â‹Â•Â–Â•Â’Â‘Â–Â•Ç¤Â‹Â•Â‹Â„ÂŽÂ‡Â„Â‡ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â†Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â•ÇŻÂ•ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ†ÂƒÂ•ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â‹Â–Â• Â‹Â? ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â”ÂƒÂ‹ÂŽÂ™ÂƒÂ› Â…Â‘Â?Â’ÂƒÂ”Â–Â?Â‡Â?Â– Â„Â‘Â—Â?Â† ÂˆÂ‘Â” ÂŠÂ‡Â†Â†ÂƒÂ” Â‹Â• Âƒ Â’Â‘Â•Â–Â‡Â” ÂƒÂ†Â˜Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â•Â‹Â?Â‰ ÇŽÂŽÂƒÂ…Â‡Â• Â‘Âˆ Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â‡Â•Â– Â‹Â? Â‘Â?Â†Â‘Â?ÇŻ Â‹Â?Â…ÂŽÂ—Â†Â‹Â?Â‰ Â’Â‹Â…Â–Â—Â”Â‡Â• Â‘Âˆ ÂˆÂƒÂ?Â‘Â—Â• Â•Â‹ghts Â (some Â of Â which Â we Â see Â in Â the Â climax Â of Â The Â Sign Â of Â Four). Â Â The Â Stoll Â productions Â thus Â not Â only Â act Â like Â travelogues, Â showing Â viewers Â the Â sights, Â rather Â than Â the Â actionČ„but Â Â articulate Â their Â own Â relationship Â with Â the Â tourist Â industry. Â Â From Â the Â romantic Â period Â on, Â readers Â had Â increasingly Â visited Â places Â associated Â with Â particular Â books. Â This Â developed Â into Â a Â commercially Â significant Â practice Â in Â the Â late Â nineteenth Â century Â and Â gave Â birth Â to Â a Â whole Â genreČ„literary Â geographyČ„that Â crossed Â the Â boundaries Â between Â biography, Â travel Â writing, Â guidebook Â and Â history Â to Â map Â literary Â associations. Â 29 Â Works Â of Â literary Â Â‰Â‡Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ’ÂŠÂ›ÂˆÂ—Â?Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‡Â†ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡Â–Â”ÂƒÂ˜Â‡ÂŽÂ‘Â‰Â—Â‡Â•ÇĄÂ‡Â†Â‹Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â–Â‘Â‰Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â•Â…Â‡Â?Â‹Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â‰ÂŠÂŽÂ‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â•ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â–ÂƒÂ‹Â?Â?Â‡Â?Â–Ç¤Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ• adaptations Â of Â British Â detective Â stories Â do Â the Â same Â thing: Â they Â edit Â together Â the Â picturesque Â Â•Â‡Â–Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â• Â‘Âˆ Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ? Â‘Â›ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÂ• Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â• ÂˆÂ‘Â” Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‡Â?ÂŒÂ‘Â›Â?Â‡Â?Â– Â‘Âˆ Â•Â’Â‡Â…Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‘Â”-Ââ€?tourists Â in Â the Â cinema. Â By Â Â’Â”Â‹Â˜Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â‰Â‹Â?Â‰ Â•Â…Â‡Â?Â‡Â”Â› Â‘Â˜Â‡Â” Â’ÂŽÂ‘Â–ÇĄ Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ• Â’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â• Â•Â‡Â‡Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ÂŽÂ› ÂƒÂ…Â?Â?Â‘Â™ÂŽÂ‡Â†Â‰Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â†Â”ÂƒÂ™ Â‘Âˆ ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ”Â› places Â as Â well Â as Â literary Â Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‡Â”Â• ÂƒÂ?Â† Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â‡Â•Ç¤ Â–Â‘ÂŽÂŽÇŻÂ• ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• Â–ÂŠÂ—Â• Â™Â‘Â”Â? ÂƒÂ• Â’Â‹Â‡Â…Â‡Â• Â‘Âˆ ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ”Â› geography Â that Â allow Â viewers Â to Â visit Â literary Â sights Â made Â famous Â by Â their Â favourite Â books. Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â
28 Â Â‡Â?Â?Â‹ÂˆÂ‡Â” Â›Â? Â‡Â–Â‡Â”Â•Â‘Â?ÇĄ ÇŽÂ”ÂƒÂ˜Â‡ÂŽÂ‘Â‰Â—Â‡Â• ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂƒÂ”ÂŽÂ› Â‘Â?-Ââ€?ÂˆÂ‹Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‹ÂŽÂ?ÇŁ Â†Â—Â…ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‹Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â…ÂŠÂ‘Â‘ÂŽ Â‘Âˆ Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â•ÇŻÇĄ Â‹Â? American Â
Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÇŻÂ• Â”ÂƒÂ?Â•Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â? Â”ÂƒÇŁ Â—Â†Â‹Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â•ÇĄ Â?Â•Â–Â‹Â–Â—Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÇĄ Â”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‹Â…Â‡Â•, Â edited Â by Â Charlie Â Keil Â and Â Shelley Â Stamp Â (Berkeley:University Â of Â California Â Press, Â 2004), Â 197. Â 29 Â
Andrea Â Zemgulys, Â Modernism Â and Â the Â Locations Â of Â Literary Â Heritage Â (Cambridge: Â Cambridge Â University Â Press, Â 2008), Â 18. Â
84 Â Â
ǯ -‐British productions at Pordenone Ǯǯ Ǥ Ǯǯ who watch literary adaptation not just to see the characters and plots of their favourite stories on screen, but to sate their own literary touristic desires. As I watched the films featured in the Sherlock Holmes and Beyond programme, I therefore became aware of how I, as a British viewer, was conditioned by years of film and television adaptations of Holmes tales that feature the ǮǯȄor at least realisticȄsettings of the stories. As the programme confounded and confused ǡ ǯǡ much looking for Holmes, but looking for London.
Le mythe et le retour.... Ioana Salagean ǮǡǯǡǯȂ Abel Gance. ǯ Ǥ ǯǡ I might start to think it is a sign of an unfinished ritual. Silence only knows the incommensurable dedication of ǯ ǯ brought towards myself, denoting instances of perpetual and cowardly serene flagellations. However, this misbehaving presents an intriguing set of meditative questionings. Writing, at least Ǯǯ ǯ (Abel Gance, 1919) forces me to reflect upon the very function of remembering or better yet, inventing History. Even if, I will advice future Collegians to preserve their notes and capture their own feelings with fervour and immediacy, I am not afraid. I know now, that a particular emotion is kept, however transformed, in time. Surely, it may not be the same in its concrete unfolding but beauty and its miraculous effects on a young soul can be effectively preserved, in essence. Curiously enough I seem to use the word preservation in its double entendre. In fact, I came to realise, that distanciation is a perfect tool for judging essences. I smile, thinking this is such an intimately Abel Gancean thing to say and I am not surprised. Learning has nothing to do with memorising facts but with expressing knowledge, passion and any troublesome metamorphosis one is subjected to, along his or hers path. In the beginning was the silent... I remember perfectly well my first Pordenone edition in 2008.I was walking on the streets like a narcotic Hommunculus...searching, scribbling and trying to find as much as I could about the dances, drawings and magician tricks performed by master Alexander Shiryaev. Losing, re-‐finding, losing again, notes, drafts and all there is to it. One could say, in the same line with the beautiful, 86
serene logistics of Paolo Cherchi Usai that any true Model Image of History is something to be re-‐ Ǯ ǯ-‐remembered. ( endnote see the death of cinema but also burning passions or silent film an introduction). On the other hand, it would be fair to accept this careless behaviour as indicative of a form of personality vice; a larger problem of rigour; perhaps, this much is true. Nonetheless, this more or less controlled or self-‐conscious [lack of] discipline bears an altogether different trademark: Pordenone, is in many ways, my only regenerating dacha, a place where I ǯ ct but that is as close as one could ever get to issues ǮǯǮǯǤǤǤ Years dissolve in states... What I seem to remember the most from the 2009 edition, soon after being assigned the dutiful role of curious Collegian, is love; but surely not a naive, awfully sweet or tedious kind of love; but one of a different kind. A solid, mature love not artificial...A love which expects, demands. The event, or rather, the challenging series of events, all seemed to be deeply camouflaged in this mission to expiate, probe, question or consolidate such love. If there is a myth there is a retour.... It is in this sense that I want to refer to the idea of the myth of the eternal rebirth, understood in its deep Eliadean implications (see Mircea Eliade book with the same title) as a possibility for History to be shown it its reverberating essence and for man or woman to witness an epiphany, of sorts. That epiphanic moment was for me seeing this ǯ ǡ in this particular pordenonian context, for the first time, a gift to the novice. It is this re-‐mastered, re-‐stored, re-‐created ǯ that I will always keep in mind and cherish in my heart, as a secret initiation, as a gift to the gods and not the subsequent representations I saw few months later (Stephe ǯ once more for my enchanted ears both at the Barbican and at the NFT in London yet from that feeling of unperturbed intimacy there was something missing; in my view, they could not compete or echo with the particular joys of this Pordenone premiere, the one, which, miraculously, as I try to explain, got stuck, permanently stuck in time, immortalised). 87
ǯ-nostalgic...but remember to respect the melancholy of the living It is important for me to admit that the title of this paper owns everything to the ever so brief but forever titillating discussion with Paolo about Eliade and his repartition of mythologies... it sounds so inevitably pompous, yet this rapprochement owns so little to elitist debates. As young collegians we are encouraged to approach people, scholars, savants, archivists. It felt so strange, so illuminating and so bizarre to want to meet exactly the Pordenone founders (Mr. Robinson, Paolo, Riccardo, Carlo Montanaro etc.) and not accidentally, Kevin Brownlow. Such exciting encounters ǯǤ no longer with us. Every time I attend Le Giornate I come to think of its fragility, of the fragility of life and of people, in general. It is now, clear to me, why ǯ so aptly filled this delicate spot Ȃ as an indictment against war and general anti-‐humanist tendencies, or as manifestation of a revolt against human misery and misconceptions, a visceral plea, a reconfiguration of pacifist ideals, making it, thus, so infinitely actual.... The anti-nostalgic manifesto must be written in invisible ink... The main lesson to be learned from this is that an empty sentimentalist trend and any tumultuous sedimentation of unhealthy nostalgia must be declined, abruptly rejected. Our love for silent cinema must exist in its entirety, freed from fable projections. In short, silent cinema is not a ǯ Ǯ ǯǡ Ǥ Silent films are alive, ǡǮ ǯǤǯ -‐ creation of time we should get to it, like children, almost by mistake. We should preserve not only cans of nitrate, tons of nerves, disposition, ambition and patience but the spirit and the nature of our particular encounters. Our humanity. Ǯ ǯ ǡ Ǥ Ǯ ǯ Ǯ ǯǮ ǯ especially when such a/historical themes (the rise of the dead in ǯ Ȍ ǤǮǯ ǡ not simply in terms of musical accompaniment but in terms of essence, of art. Silent cinema 88
communicates in full. It does not form a distant, vitiated alpha language. Also, as Gance so often proclaimed, it is for the people [!], it is tempting; open, not in a populist sense but in a humanist Ǥ ǯ ͻ screening of French forgotten Albatros discoveries Ȃ without the feeling of community, of proper theatrical setting which gives to our experience a certain dimension, a particular viewing mode Ȃ in effect, all of this Ȃ is ultimately, a matter of sharing. ǯ the fact that culture itself is transmissible, contagious and transient. Thinking of Paolo I have many reasons to be thinking of Paolo and remember his function of bridging the world of film scholarship to that of the archival milieu. It is an unstable but ever so priceless position to be in. In his Introduction to Burning Passions, Paolo so correctly identifies the problem by stating:
I have always been dissatisfied with any discipline whose aim does not go beyond its own fulfillment, and wished that knowledge in one area could become a catalyst for enthusiasm, curiosity and the impulse of discovery in Ǥ ǯ ǡ sense only as long as it encourages and develops the art of seeing in itself, regardless of its forms and manifestations. (p.viii)
This idea of an almost mystical response to film preservation, albeit without losing its impeccable rationale is outlined by Mr. Robinson in his Preface for the same book. As both Paolo and Mr. Robinson conclude there is nothing less elusive in the confrontational character of silent cinema when compared to the reminiscences of any other art. The type of commitment silent cinema entails is not simply related to a willingness to perform a kind of time-‐cultural abandon, to an effort of imagination. Silent cinema viewing involves a more serene approach at times, a less Ǥ Ǯǯ or sympathetically dangerous from the outset but also because we might lose the part of needing an event, the eventful part of watching silent cinema, in good company. Understandably, good Ǩ ǯ flammable but explosive. It is as if we are discussing a matter of impact, an instance of high seismic risk. It is my contention, that this particularity of staging, this orchestration, sometimes with 89
greater minute precision and attention to detail than those of ballet or opera is what transforms or radiates silent film and turns it into an event, a representation and presentation all at once. For me, this philosophy is prioritised by the good title of the documentary about Gance, The Charm of dynamite... Looking at Kevin... ǯǤ the wave of tension and release from my previous paragraphs. It is true, I remember as it was yesterday, Kevin ǯǤǡ faces red, our bodies tensed. Kevin had his irreplaceable pink jacket on. He looked so dignified, so relieved Ȃ I must have thought. This is something irreplaceable. We all came back for the last and Ǯ ǯǤ Cannes or Venice, not a red carpet in a dress code sense, but a red carpet in an emotional sense, red faces and red carpets, everywhere. Excitement, murmurs, exactly 192 minutes -‐ minus the time for ovations, partly for Stephen, partly for restorers Ȃ partly for Gance and partly for us, in our preliminary understanding of what just happened....An understanding, that for me, personally, only later [now, actually] finds its clearest form of appreciation. Researching about Gance has been an option, a privilege and not an imposition. Reading through French, Italian and English monographs and collections I found myself lost in minor details, in Romanesque adventures, in master-‐disciple fables, precisely as I had imagined then that it would be. Also, encompassing the r ǯ ǡ here and there Ȃ ǯ this particular evening as a promise for the future. But what a promise it was... To give an example of a standard Pordenonian atmosphere it is worth mentioning my unconventional meetings, in circumstances which turned up to be favourable and triggered future, unofficial guiding tours. Sometime around this projection of ǯ and considerable time after ǯ -‐interpretations/jokes, 90
Â Jack Â Huse Â instead Â of Â ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡ Â (the Â troublesome, Â yet Â amusing, Â wrong Â deciphering Â of Â an Â English Â speaking Â audience Â is Â still Â at Â the Â heart Â of Â the Â matter, Â so Â to Â speak) Â Č‚ Â Mr. Â Brownlow Â took Â me Â on Â a Â Â•Â’Â‡Â…Â‹ÂƒÂŽÇĄÇŽÂ’Â”Â‹Â˜ÂƒÂ–Â‡ÇŻÂ‘Â?Â†Â‘Â?Â–Â‘Â—Â”Â‹Â?Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠ Â…Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â•Â‡Â‡ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ”Â‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÂŠÂ‹Â•Â‡Â›Â‡Â•ÇĄÂ™ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â‘Â?Â†Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ‘Â‘Â?Â‡Â†ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡Â™ÂƒÂ› before Â The Â Fires Â were Â Started...Â—Â”Â‡ÂŽÂ›ÇĄÂ‹Â–Â‹Â•Â?Â‘Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â‡ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ÇĄÂ–Â‘Â†Â‡Â•Â…Â”Â‹Â„Â‡Â‡Â˜Â‹Â?ÇŻÂ•Â‰Â‡Â?Â‡Â”Â‘Â•Â‹Â–Â›Âƒnd Â kindness, Â but Â as Â he Â took Â me Â on Â those Â streets, Â the Â streets Â that Â I Â know Â so Â well, Â having Â studied Â in Â Strand Â for Â exactly Â three Â years Â Č‚ Â Â”Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂ‹Â•Â‡Â† Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â™Â‡ Â†Â‘Â?ÇŻÂ– Â”Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ› Â?Â?Â‘Â™ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‰Â•ÇĄ Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â‘Â—Â” ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ”Â–Â•ÇĄ absorbing Â their Â profound Â resonance. Â And Â this Â is Â what Â struck Â me Â after Â this Â encounter. Â Not Â a Â word Â on Â Gance, Â not Â a Â word Â on Â ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡and Â yet Â it Â was Â exactly Â the Â same Â emotion Â for Â me, Â part Â of Â something Â gradual, Â quasi-Ââ€?Â”Â‡ÂŽÂ‹Â‰Â‹Â‘Â—Â• Č‹Â‹Â?Â†Â‡Â‡Â†ÇĄ Â™ÂŠÂ‡Â? Â”Â‡ÂˆÂŽÂ‡Â…Â–Â‹Â?Â‰ Â„ÂƒÂ…Â? Â–Â‘ ÂŽÂ‹ÂƒÂ†Â‡ÇŻÂ• ÂˆÂ‹Â‡ÂŽÂ† Â‘Âˆ Â”Â‡Â•Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â…ÂŠČŒÇ¤ Â? Â•Â—Â?ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ epiphany Â is Â there, Â ready Â to Â be Â re-Ââ€?orchestrated, Â to Â stimulate Â my Â Gancean Â fascination, Â to Â attest Â my Â unattributed Â Latinity, Â to Â confess Â my Â weakness Â towards Â French Â liberalist Â ideals, Â and Â to Â prove Â my Â chance Â of Â re-Ââ€?experiencing Â enlightenment. Â This Â phenomenon Â is Â a Â breakthrough Â in Â its Â purest Â substance, Â a Â moment Â vivant, Â tout Â court. Â Â Â Â A Â constellation... Â Â SignificantlyÇĄ ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡ Â was Â not Â a Â lonely Â diamond Â on Â a Â desert Â theatre... Â there Â were Â many Â more Â films Â that Â moved Â me, Â somewhat Â gravitating Â au Â tour Â as Â part Â of Â an Â improvised Â constellation; Â but Â as Â with Â the Â inexhaustible Â findings Â about Â Shiryaev, Â that Â I Â am Â bound Â to Â keep Â with Â me Â ever Â since Â Č‚ Â what Â I Â will Â preserve Â from Â this Â eloquent Â 2009 Â Č‚ Â is Â the Â grandiosity Â of Â an Â absent Â orchestra. Â The Â silenzioso Â maiestoso. Â A Â grandiosity, Â not Â in Â terms Â of Â a Â career Â prospectus Â but Â a Â wholeheartedly Â experienced Â Â‹Â†Â‡ÂƒÂ—Â’Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â™Â‘Â”ÂŽÂ†Ç¤Â„Â˜Â‹Â‘Â—Â•ÂŽÂ›ÇĄÂ?Â‘Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÇŽÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‰Â‘Â–Â–Â‡Â?ÇŻÇĄÇŽÂƒÂ?Â…Â‹Â‡Â?Â–ÇŻÂ™Â‘Â”ÂŽÂ†Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â’ÂƒÂ•Â–ÇĄÂ‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ contrary, Â a Â meditation Â and Â mediation Â of Â our Â world, Â of Â the Â world Â of Â today. Â Â Â The Â species Â informed Â by Â Nostradamus.... Â Â Arrestingly, Â Gance Â saw Â everything Â that Â was Â there Â to Â come Â from Â the Â mid Â twenties Â [!] Â As Â I Â sit, Â in Â the Â Â‰ÂƒÂ”Â†Â‡Â?ÇĄÂ•Â—Â”Â”Â‘Â—Â?Â†Â‡Â†Â„Â›Â„Â‹Â„ÂŽÂ‹Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ’ÂŠÂ‹Â…Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹ÂƒÂŽÇĄ ÂƒÂ?Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â…Â?Â‡Â†Ç¤ ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇŻÂ•Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‹ÂˆÂ‡Â•Â–Â‘Â•Â‘ÂˆÇŽÂŠÂ‡Â…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ‘Âˆ Â–Â‘Â?Â‘Â”Â”Â‘Â™ÇŻÂ‘Â”ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â˜Â‡Â”Â›Â‹Â?Â•Â‹Â•Â–Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â?Â‘Â”Â”ow Â seem Â like Â a Â series Â of Â regenerative Â memoirs Â pertaining Â to Â a Â Nostradamus Â of Â film Â culture! Â He Â anticipates Â not Â only Â colour, Â sound Â but Â tri-Ââ€?dimensionality, Â an Â era Â when Â the Â screen Â shall Â no Â longer Â be Â a Â dividing Â wall. Â How Â could Â anyone Â be Â 91 Â Â
Â reading Â such Â lines Â thinking Â of Â the Â past? Â (see Â p. Â 168 Â sophie Â daria Â s Â study). Â The Â idea Â of Â suppressing Â crepuscules Â is Â only Â one Â amongst Â many Â other Â exalting Â points Â Gance Â kept Â repeating Â to Â the Â audience. Â (see Â p.33 Â same Â study Â sophie Â daria). Â Â Â Â Â Again, Â mysticism, Â conclusions Â about Â the Â insubordinate Â human Â nature, Â all Â preoccupied Â Gance Â ever Â since Â he Â started Â working Â with Â film. Â It Â is Â well Â known Â that Â his Â experience Â of Â the Â First Â World Â War Â left Â him Â with Â a Â pronounced Â civic Â sense. Â He Â kept Â addressing Â cinema Â like Â a Â luminous Â symphony, Â both Â physical Â and Â spiritual Â at Â the Â same Â time. Â (see, Â same Â study). Â Â Â Such Â predispositions Â are Â detectable Â also Â in Â his Â poetry: Â Â Â ÇŽÂ‘Â?ÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â?Â‹Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‹Â?Â…Â‡Â”Â–ÂƒÂ‹Â? Â Mon Â avenir Â est Â incertain Â Â—Â•Â“Â—ÇŻÂƒÂŽÂƒÂˆÂ‹Â?Ç˘Â†Â‡Â?Â‘Â”Â–Â•Â—Â‹Â˜Â‹Â‡ Â Â—Â‡ÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‘Â?Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â”Â‘Â‹ÇĄÂŽÇŻÂƒÂ‹Â‰Â”Â‡ÂˆÂ‹Â?ÇŤ Â Tous Â feront Â meme Â comedie. Â Â ÂƒÂ‰Â—Â”Â”Â‡Â”Â—Â‹Â?Â‡Â–Â‘Â—Â–Â‡Â•Â?Â‡Â•Â‡Â•Â’Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇŻÇ¤Č‹ÎŞÂ–Â”ÂƒÂ?Â•ÂŽÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ČŒ Â Â It Â is Â also Â highly Â informative Â that Â upon Â the Â succession Â of Â the Â Second Â World Â War, Â Gance Â worked Â on Â a Â re-Ââ€?released Â version Â of Â ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡Ç¤ Â‡ Â‰Â‡Â?Â‡Â”ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ› Â”Â‡Â‰ÂƒÂ”Â†Â‡Â† Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ? ÂƒÂ• Â—Â?Â‡ ÇŽÂ‘Â—Â˜Â”Â‡ ÂŠÂ—Â?ÂƒÂ‹Â?Â‡ÇŻÇĄ Â?Â‘Â– designed Â fÂ‘Â”Â…Â‘Â?Â?Â‡Â”Â…Â‹ÂƒÂŽÂ‡ÂšÂ’ÂŽÂ‘Â‹Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Ç¤Â›ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‹Â•ÇŽÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‡Â†Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â‹ÇŻČ‹Â‡ÂšÂ‡Â”Â…Â‹Â•Â‡Â‘Â”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‘ÂˆÂˆÂƒÂ‹Â–ÂŠČŒÂŠÂ‡Â™Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ† often Â say. Â Â Â Â‘Â‰Â‡Â” Â…ÂƒÂ”Â–ÇŻÂ• Â•Â–Â—Â†Â› Â•ÂŠÂ‡Â†Â• ÂŽÂ‹Â‰ÂŠÂ– Â‘Â? ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇŻÂ• Â?Â‡Â†Â‹Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â• Â‘Â? Â•ÂƒÂ…Â”Â‹ÂˆÂ‹Â…Â‡ ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂˆÂ”ÂƒÂ–Â”Â‹Â…Â‹Â†Â‡ Č‹Â’Ç¤ÍľÍś -Ââ€?38 Â new Â study Â + Â translation) Â Â Â ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡ ÂŽÂƒ Â‰Â—Â‡Â”Â”Â‡ Â†ÇŻÂŠÂ‹Â‡Â” Â†ÇŻÂƒÂ˜Â‘Â‹Â” Â’Â”Â‡Â’ÂƒÂ”Â‡ ÂŽ Â—Â”Â‘Â’Â‡ Â†ÇŻÂƒÂŒÂ‘Â—Â”Â†ÂŠÂ—Â‹ Â‡Â– ÂŽÇŻ Â—Â”Â‘Â’Â‡ Â†ÇŻÂƒÂŒÂ‘Â—Â”Â†ÂŠÂ—Â‹ Â†Â‡ Â’Â”Â‡Â’ÂƒÂ”Â‡Â” ÂŽÂƒ Â‰Â—Â‡Â”Â”Â‡ Â†Â‡ Â†Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ‹Â?ÇĄ Â“Â—Â‹ Â•Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ‹Â– ÂŽÇŻÂƒÂ?Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â–Â‹Â•Â•Â‡Â?Â‡Â?Â– Â–Â‘Â–ÂƒÂŽ Â†Â‡ ÂŽÇŻ Â—Â”Â‘Â’Â‡Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤ ÂŒÇŻÂƒÂ‹Â?Â‡ Â?Â‘Â? Â’ÂƒÂ›Â• Â‡Â– ÂŒÇŽÂ‡Â•Â–Â‹Â?Â‡ Â“Â— Â‘Â? Â?ÇŻÂƒ Â’ÂƒÂ• ÂŽÂ‡ Â†Â”Â‘Â‹Â– Â†ÇŻÂƒÂ•Â•Â‹Â•Â–Â‡Â” Â‡Â? Â–Â‡Â?Â‘Â‹Â? Â?Â—Â‡Â– Âƒ ÂŽÂƒ Â?Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â†Â‹Â“Â—Â‡ Â‘Â”Â‰ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â•ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? Â†Â‡Â• Â?ÂƒÂ•Â•ÂƒÂ…res Â de Â demain. Â Au Â lendemain Â de Â la Â guerre, Â on Â parlait Â des Â etas-Ââ€?Â—Â?Â‹Â• Â†ÇŻÂ—Â”Â‘Â’Â‡Ç¤ 92 Â Â
Â ÇŻÂ—Â”Â‘Â’Â‡ Â†ÇŻÂƒÂŒÂ‘Â—Â”Â†ÂŠÂ—Â‹ Â‡Â•Â–Â‡ Â†Â‹Â˜Â‹Â•Â‡Â‡Â‡ Â‡Â? Â„ÂŽÂ‘Â…Â• Â”Â‹Â˜ÂƒÂ—ÂšÇ¤Â‘Â—Â• Â”Â‡Â•Â’Â‹Â”Â‘Â?Â• Â—Â? ÂƒÂ‹Â” Â‡Â?Â’Â‘Â‹Â•Â‘Â?Â?Â‡Â‡Â–Â?Â‘Â—Â•Â†Â‘Â”Â?Â‘Â?Â•Â•Â—Â”Â†Â‡Â?Â‹ÂŽÂŽÂ‹Â‡Â”Â•Â†Â‡Â–Â‘Â?Â?Â‡Â•Â†ÇŻÂ‡ÂšÂ’ÂŽÂ‘Â•Â‹ÂˆÂ•Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤Â…Â‘Â?Â?Â‡ le Â livre. Â Le Â cinema Â a Â sa Â mission Â ÂƒÂ”Â‡Â?Â’ÂŽÂ‹Â”Â‡Â–Â?Â‘Â?ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â?ÇŻÂƒÂ—Â”ÂƒÂ’ÂƒÂ•Â‡Â–Â‡Â‹Â?Â—Â–Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â•Â‹ÇĄ Â…Â‘Â?Â?Â‡ÂŒÂ‡ÂŽÇŻÂ‡Â•Â’Â‡Â”Â‡ÇĄÂ‹ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â…Â‹Â–Â‡ÂŽÂ‡Â•Â’Â‡Â…Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â—Â”ÂƒÂˆÂƒÂ‹Â”Â‡Â—Â?Â”Â‡Â–Â‘Â—Â”Â•Â—Â”ÂŽÂ—Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Â‡Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤ Â Â Je Â dedie Â Â ce Â film Â aux Â morts Â de Â la Â guerre Â de Â demain Â qui, Â sans Â doute, Â le Â regarderont Â avec Â scepticism, Â sans Â y Â reconnoitre Â leur Â image, Â Â Â Â‡Â•Â–Â’Â‘Â—Â”Â“Â—Â‡ÂŒÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡Â•Â‘Â‹Â–Â‡Â?Â…Â‘Â”Â‡Â’ÂŽÂ—Â•Â˜Â”ÂƒÂ‹ÇĄÂ’ÂŽÂ—Â•Â‡ÂšÂ’Â”Â‡Â•Â•Â‹ÂˆÇ˘Â’Â‘Â—Â”Â“Â—ÇŻÂ‹ÂŽÂ†Â‘Â?Â?Â‡ Âƒ Â–Â‘Â—Â• Â…Â‡Â—Âš Â“Â—Â‹ ÂŽÂ‡ Â˜Â‡Â”Â”Â‘Â?Â– ÂŽÇŻÂ‡Â’Â‘Â—Â˜ÂƒÂ?Â–Â‡ Â†Â‡ Â…Â‡Â–Â–Â‡ Â…ÂŠÂ‘Â•Â‡ ÂƒÂˆÂˆÂ”Â‡Â—Â•Â‡ Â“Â—Â‹ ÂˆÂƒÂ‹Â– Â†Â‡ vous Â ce Â que Â vous Â etes! Â Č‚ Â Abel Â Gance Â Â
(For Â further Â edifications Â read Â also Â the Â Post-Ââ€?face Â of Â this Â study Â written Â by Â Kevin Â Brownlow Â on Â pages Â 272 Â to Â 274). Â Â Â ÂŽÂŽÂ‹Â?ÂƒÂŽÂŽÇĄ ÂˆÂ‡Â‡ÂŽÂ’ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‹Â…Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ”ÂŽÂ›Â‹Â?Â…ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡Â†Â–Â‘Â•Â—Â•Â–ÂƒÂ‹Â? Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â”Â”Â‘Â›ÇŻÂ•Â‘Â’Â‹Â?Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â– ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇŽ ÂŽÂ‘Â˜Â‡ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‹Â?ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â•Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â–Â•Â—ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‹Â?Â‰ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰ÂƒÂ?Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â„Â‡ÂƒÂ—Â–Â›Â‘ÂˆÂŠÂ‹Â•Â•Â—ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‹Â?Â‰ÇŻÇ¤Č‹Â•Â‡Â‡Â’Ç¤ÍłÍşÂ‹Â?Â‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰ÇŻÂ•Â•Â–Â—Â†Â› Â on Â Abel Â Gance). Â Â Â Una Â passione Â infiammabile, Â is Â omnipresent Â in Â Italian Â too, Â facilitated Â by Â Enrico Â Groppali. Â Â Â
ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇŻÂ•Â’Â”Â‘Â…ÂŽÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â‘Â„Â‡Â–Â”ÂƒÂ›ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â’Â‘Â‡Â–Â”Â›ÇĄÂŠÂ‹Â•Â˜Â‹Â•Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂŽÂ‹ÂˆÂ‡ÇĄÂƒÂ?Â†ÂŠÂ‹Â•ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‹Â•Â–Â‹Â…Â…Â‘Â?Â…Â‡Â”Â?Â•Ç¤Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Âƒ is Â not Â just Â a Â mirror Â to Â the Â world, Â it Â is Â rather Â the Â world Â transformed. Â His Â rejection Â of Â the Â wall Â as Â the Â screen Â conveys Â his Â greater Â programmatic Â interest; Â his Â idea Â of Â an Â all Â engulfing Â cinema, Â spectacular. Â The Â focus Â lies Â on Â the Â experience, Â on Â the Â spectator Â and Â on Â the Â act Â of Â communicating Â about Â things Â that Â matter. Â A Â proclamation Â of Â and Â for Â the Â being. Â Indeed, Â his Â exalted Â glorification Â of Â a Â unique, Â tangible Â memory Â seems Â to Â highlight Â the Â order Â of Â thinking Â at Â the Â time. Â To Â respect Â his Â films Â would Â be Â to Â believe Â in Â these Â eventful Â mechanisms Â behind Â it; Â to Â absorb Â the Â freshness, Â the Â extraordinary Â Â‹Â?Â?Â‘Â˜ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â˜Â‡ Â‹Â?Â’Â—Â– Â‘Âˆ ÂŠÂ‹Â• ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‹Â•Â–Â”Â›Ç¤ Â‹Â• ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• ÂƒÂ”Â‡ ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡ Âƒ Â•Â›Â?Â’ÂŠÂ‘Â?Â‹Â… ÂˆÂ—Â‰Â—Â‡ÇĄ Â™ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â›Â‘Â— Â†Â‘Â?ÇŻÂ– Â?Â?Â‘Â™ Â‘Â” Â†Â‹Â†Â?ÇŻÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â‡Â?Â‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â‹Â?Â‡Â–Â‘Â‡ÂšÂ’ÂŽÂ‘Â”Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ–Â–Â‡Â”Â•ÂŒÂ—Â•Â–ÂƒÂ•Â?Â—Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ•Â™ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â›Â‘Â—Â•Â‡Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â†ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ?Â†Â•Â‡Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‡ to Â isolate Â into Â a Â meaningful Â exÂ’Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Ç¤ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ÂŽÂ›ÇĄÂ‹Â–Â‹Â•ÂƒÂ“Â—Â‡Â•Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ?ÂƒÂ‰Â?Â‹Â–Â—Â†Â‡Â‘Â”Â‹Â?Â—Â‹Â•Â‡ÂŽÂŽÂ—Â…ÇŻÂ• Â™Â‘Â”Â†Â• Â‹Â? Â”Â‡ÂŽÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? Â–Â‘ ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇĄ ÇŽÂ‘Âˆ Â?Â‡Â˜Â‡Â” Â…Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â? Â„Â‹Â‰Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤ÇŻ Č‹Â’Ç¤ÍłÍ˛Íł Â„Â‘Â‘Â? ÂƒÂ„Â‡ÂŽ Â‰ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ Â’Â”Â‘Â?Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‡ foudroye). Â In Â my Â view, Â such Â enthusiasm Â and Â aspirant, Â catapulted Â enthusiasm Â can Â only Â be Â matched Â Â„Â›ÂˆÂ‡Â™Â‘ÂˆÂŽÂƒÂ—Â†Â‡ÂƒÂ—Â”Â‹ÂƒÂ…ÇŻÂ•Â™Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â•ÇĄÂ‹Â?ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â†Â‹ÂƒÂ”Â›Ç¤Â—Â…ÂŠÂ’ÂŠÂ”ÂƒÂ•Â‡Â•Â„Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?Â’Â”Â‹Â?Â–Â‘ÂˆÂ˜Â‹Â•Â—ÂƒÂŽÂ’Â”Â‘Â‘ÂˆÂ•ÇĄ 93 Â Â
Â they Â start Â documenting Â a Â whole Â era. Â Gance Â did Â not Â think Â of Â such Â issue Â in Â abstract Â terms, Â on Â the Â contrary Â his Â inflections Â bear Â the Â trademark Â of Â anti-Ââ€?conformism Â reflected Â by Â what Â he Â calls, Â Â‹Â?Â•Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–ÂˆÂ—ÂŽÂŽÂ›ÇĄÇŽÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â‡Â…Â”Â‡Â–Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â’Â‹Â”ÂƒÂŽÇŻÇ¤Â• ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â‹Â?Â•Â‹Â•Â–Â•ÇŁ Â Â Â All Â my Â life, Â all Â my Â work Â turns Â not Â according Â to Â the Â wheel Â but Â according Â to Â the Â spiral. Â Â Â Or Â the Â circular Â factum Â of Â the Â spiral Â line Â serves Â considerably Â to Â enlighten Â our Â ideas Â about Â historical Â matters, Â and Â to Â explain Â the Â true Â spirit Â of Â periods Â of Â ÇŽÂ”Â‡Â–Â—Â”Â?Â–Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ?Â–Â‹Â“Â—Â‡ÇŻÇ¤Č‹Â?Â‡Â™Â•Â–Â—Â†Â›ÍˇÍ´ČŒ Â
Reassembling Â some Â of Â my Â earlier Â obsessions Â with Â the Â musical Â accompaniment Â for Â silents, Â the Â detectable Â philosophy Â of Â rhythms Â as Â proclaimed Â by Â an Â old Â text Â signed Â by Â Jacques Â Dalcroze, Â Nelly Â ÂƒÂ’ÂŽÂƒÂ?ÇŻÂ•Â™Â‘Â?Â†Â‡Â”ÂˆÂ—ÂŽÂ•Â–Â—Â†Â›ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â–Napoleon Â secures Â the Â theoretical Â framework Â needed Â to Â get Â around Â
ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇŻÂ•ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‹Â…Â‡ÂšÂ’Â‡Â”Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÇŁ Â Â Relying Â on Â a Â text Â dating Â as Â early Â as Â 1250, Â Gance Â already Â observes Â that Â Â Â
Â ÇŽÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â…Â‘Â?Â’Â‘Â•Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ‹Â?ÂƒÂ‰Â‡Â•Â‹Â•ÂƒÂ•Â’Â‹Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â†Â›Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤Â•ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ‰Â‡Â•ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â•ÂƒÂ‰Â‡Â•Â…ÂƒÂŽÂŽ them Â Thelgam Â or Â Tetzavi, Â which Â may Â be Â interpreted Â as Â violators, Â for Â everything Â the Â image Â does, Â it Â does Â by Â violence Â and Â in Â order Â to Â vanquish Â everything Â for Â which Â it Â is Â composeÂ†ÇŻÇ¤Č‹ÂƒÂ’ÂŽÂƒÂ?ÇĄÂ’Ç¤ÍłÍşČŒ Â
Â Â˜Â‡Â?Â?Â‘Â”Â‡Â•Â‹Â‰Â?Â‹ÂˆÂ‹Â…ÂƒÂ?Â–Â‹Â• ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇŻÂ•ÂƒÂ’Â’Â”Â‘Â’Â”Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ‘Â˜ÂƒÂŽÂ‹Â•ÇŻÂ•Â–Â‡ÂšÂ–ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â?ÍłÍşÍłÍ˛ÇŁ Â Â
Visible Â music, Â properly Â speaking, Â is Â images, Â arabesques, Â models, Â ornaments...visible Â objects Â are Â the Â expression Â of Â feelings...All Â matter Â is Â close Â to Â light, Â all Â action Â is Â close Â to Â seeing Â and Â every Â organ Â is Â close Â to Â the Â eye Â Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤Â˜Â‡Â”Â›Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ‰Â‡Â‹Â•ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â…ÂƒÂ?Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Ç¤Â•Â’Â‹Â”Â‹Â–Â•Â—Â?Â?Â‘Â?Â‡Â†Â‹Â•ÂƒÂ•Â’Â‹Â”Â‹Â–ÂƒÂ’Â’Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â‹Â?Â‰Ç¤ÇŻ Â
For Â Gance, Â cinema Â was Â not Â in Â any Â way Â different, Â as Â he Â concludes: Â Â Â Â There Â are Â two Â sorts Â of Â music, Â the Â music Â of Â sound Â and Â the Â music Â of Â light Â Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠ Â‹Â• Â?Â‘Â?Â‡ Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â” Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ? Â…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Âƒ Â‹Â–Â•Â‡ÂŽÂˆÇ˘ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â‹Â–ÇŻÂ• Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â—Â•Â‹Â… Â‘Âˆ ÂŽÂ‹Â‰ÂŠÂ– Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠ stands Â higher Â in Â the Â scale Â of Â vibrations... Â There Â is Â noise Â and Â there Â is Â music. Â 94 Â Â
There Â is Â cinema Â and Â there Â is Â the Â art Â of Â cinema Â which Â has Â not Â yet Â created Â its Â neologism...Already, Â however, Â several Â Christopher Â Columbuses Â of Â light Â have Â emerged...All Â is Â or Â becomes Â possible. Â A Â drop Â of Â water, Â a Â drop Â of Â star Â ...Cinema Â becomes Â an Â art Â of Â the Â alchemist Â from Â which Â we Â can Â expect Â the Â transmutation Â of Â all Â other Â arts Â if Â we Â can Â only Â touch Â its Â heart: Â the Â heart, Â the Â metronome Â of Â cinema...Our Â Art Â requires Â a Â harsh Â law, Â demanding, Â rejecting Â what Â is Â pleasant Â or Â original Â at Â any Â price, Â neglecting Â virtuosity Â and Â the Â facile Â transposition Â of Â pictures... Â Â Â
Another Â thing: Â reality Â is Â not Â Â‡Â?Â‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÇŻÇ¤Č‹ÂƒÂ’ÂŽÂƒÂ?ÇĄÂ’Ç¤Í´Í˛ČŒ Â
The Â absent Â diary Â Â Initially, Â I Â saw Â this Â paper Â as Â a Â miss-Ââ€?interpretation Â of Â a Â diary. Â Later Â on, Â I Â realised Â that Â the Â days Â are Â lost Â and Â worse, Â that Â they Â have Â managed Â to Â exist Â mutually Â infected, Â like Â pouring Â emulsions Â describing Â conflicting Â tonalities. Â In Â this Â sense, Â I Â should Â better Â refrain Â from Â any Â over-Ââ€?emphatic Â tendency. Â Clearly, Â there Â is Â a Â most Â revelatory Â relationship Â between Â silent Â film Â and Â death, Â between Â Â…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Âƒ ÂƒÂ?Â†Â†Â‡ÂƒÂ–ÂŠÇĄÂ‹Â?Â’ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‹Â…Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ”Ç¤ ÂˆÂ‡Â‡ÂŽÇĄ ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡ ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ”Â?Â‡Â†ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ‘ÂŽÂ‘ÇŻÂ•Â„Â‘Â‘Â?Â•Âƒ Â…Â‡rtain Â philosophical Â Â†Â‡Â–ÂƒÂ…ÂŠÂ?Â‡Â?Â– ÂƒÂ?Â† Â’Â‡Â”ÂŠÂƒÂ’Â• Âƒ Â•ÂŠÂ›Â?Â‡Â•Â• Â”Â‡Â‰ÂƒÂ”Â†Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â‡ Â?ÂƒÂ–Â–Â‡Â”Â•Ç¤ Â™Â‘Â?Â†Â‡Â” Â‹Âˆ Â†Â‡ÂƒÂ–ÂŠ Â…Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ† Â–Â”Â—ÂŽÂ› Â„Â‡ ÇŽÂƒ Â…Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â‹Â?Â†ÇŻ ÂƒÂ• ÂƒÂ‘ÂŽÂ‘ Â”Â‡ÂˆÂ‡Â”Â• Â–Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â—Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â† Â‘Â„ÂŒÂ‡Â…Â–ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â‹Â–Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‡ Â‡Â?Â–Â‹Â–Â› Â•Â—ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‹Â?Â‰ Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â‰Â‡Â•Ç¤ Č‹Â•Â‡Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ’ÂƒÂ‘ÂŽÂ‘ÇŻÂ•Â„Â‘Â‘Â?Â•ČŒÇ¤Â…Â…Â‡Â’Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â?Â›Â–Â‹Â?Â‡accompanying Â the Â silents Â I Â feel Â I Â am Â under Â the Â auspices Â of Â a Â greater Â Time Â and Â whatever Â I Â will Â do Â or Â whoever Â I Â am Â meant Â to Â become Â I Â must Â learn Â to Â cherish Â Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â?Â’Â‘Â”Â–ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‹Â•ÇŽÂ–ÂƒÂŽÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰Â–Â‹Â?Â‡ÇŻÂƒÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ†Â‘ÂˆÂ?Â‡ÇĄÂ‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ—Â–Â—Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â†Â’ÂƒÂ•Â– Â‹Â‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â•Ç¤ Â Â Not Â only Â time, Â but Â also Â unknown Â spaces Â Â Â La Â vie Â merveilleuse Â de Â Paris Â or Â beautifully Â sung Â Parigi Â was Â an Â event Â which Â enabled Â me Â to Â commute Â geographically. Â Believe Â it Â or Â not, Â I Â have Â never Â been Â to Â Paris. Â Imagine Â my Â joy Â to Â see Â the Â old Â rails Â on Â the Â screen...In Â Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â…Â‘Â?Â–Â‡ÂšÂ–ÇĄÂ‹Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”Â†Â„Â‡ÂŽÇŻÂ•Â”Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ”Â?Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÇŽÂ?Â—Â•Â‹Â…Â‹Â•Â–ÂŠÂ‡matter Â Â‘ÂˆÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÇŻČ‹ÍľÍśÂ•Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â–ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ČŒ Â…Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â?Â‘Â–Â„Â‡Â?Â‘Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ†Â‡Â“Â—ÂƒÂ–Â‡Ç¤ÂŽÂ…ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â›ÂƒÂ?Â†Â?Â›Â•Â–Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ”Â‡ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•Ç¤ Â™Â”Â‘Â–Â‡Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â–Â‡ÇĄÇŽ Â‰Â‹Â˜Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â†ÂƒÂ›Â–Â‘ The Â Albastros Â inspection Â of Â Harmonies, Â to Â the Â Paris Â I Â never Â got Â to Â visit Â but Â always Â dreamt Â of, Â to Â the Â Â…ÂƒÂ”Â‘Â—Â•Â‡ÂŽÂ• ÂƒÂ?Â† Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂŽÂ‘Â…Â‘Â?Â‘Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡Â• Â•Â’Â‹Â?Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â?Â‘Â”Â‡ Â˜Â‹Â˜Â‹Â†ÂŽÂ› Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ? Â‹Â? Â—Â–ÂŠÂ?ÂƒÂ?ÇĄ Â–Â‘ ÂƒÂ–Â”Â‹Â…Â?ÇŻÂ• Â˜Â‘Â‹Â…Â‡ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â‘Â—Â˜Â‡ÇŻÂ•ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â†Â•ÂƒÂ?Â†Â–Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‡Â…Â•Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â…Â?Â‹Â•Â•Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂŠÂ‡Â‡Â? Â‰ÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?ÂƒÂˆÂ–Â‡Â”Â™ÂƒÂ”Â†Â•Ç¤ÇŻ Â Â Â 95 Â Â
Â And, Â on Â another Â note: Â Â Â ÇŽ Â…ÂƒÂ?ÇŻÂ–Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â?Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂ?Â‘Â”Â‡Â‡ÂšÂ“uisite Â moment Â than Â seeing Â Touve Â perform Â whilst Â remembering Â his Â masterclass Â and Â shy Â jokes Â from Â last Â year. Â The Â sense Â of Â belonging Â somewhere Â in Â tune Â with Â the Â Â–Â”Â—Â‡ ÂŠÂƒÂ”Â?Â‘Â?Â‹Â‡Â•Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÇŻÂ• Â‹Â–Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤ Â”Â‡Â?Â‡Â?Â„Â‡Â” Â’Â‡Â”ÂˆÂ‡Â…Â–ÂŽÂ› Â™Â‡ÂŽÂŽ Â•Â‹Â?Â‰Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–Â‘ Â?Â›Â•Â‡ÂŽÂˆ Â‹Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â†Â‡ÂƒÂ† Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–ÇĄ wÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰Â—Â’Â•Â‘Â?Â‡Â—Â?Â™Â‘Â”Â–ÂŠÂ›Â?Â‘Â”Â–ÂƒÂŽÂ•ÇĄÂ™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ?Â›Â”Â‡Â…Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÇŽÂƒÂ”Â‹Â‰Â‹Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤ÂƒÂ”Â‹Â‰Â‹Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤ÇŻ Â Â Ma Â nuit Â chez Â Maud, Â about Â an Â imaginary Â encounter Â Â Â Besides, Â ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡, Â and Â still Â on Â the Â French Â territory, Â another Â mesmerising Â plunge Â was Â made... Â straight Â into Â the Â life Â of Â Max Â Linder. Â It Â is Â not Â a Â coincidence, Â nothing Â is. Â My Â findings Â include Â a Â brief Â description Â of Â the Â collaboration Â between Â Linder Â and Â Gance Â on Â the Â comedy Â Au Â Secours. Â Loving Â Linder Â for Â so Â long, Â this Â was Â a Â time Â of Â meeting Â his Â vigilant Â daughter. Â Here Â is Â what Â I Â kept Â on Â a Â second Â slippery Â note: Â Â Â Â ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â‹Â•ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â˜Â‹Â•Â‹Â„ÂŽÂ‡Â”ÂƒÂ’Â’Â‘Â”Â–Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂ?Â‡Â˜Â‡Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â?Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”Â–Â‘Â‘Â?Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â‡ÇĄÂ™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â†Â‡Â”ÇŻÂ•Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ’Â’Â‡ÂƒÂ—ÂƒÂ– his Â Institute Â in Â Bordeaux. Â Or Â was Â it Â perhaps Â descending Â from Â the Â singing/previous Â locomotives Â straight Â on Â the Â streets Â of Â Paris Â Č‚ Â struggling Â to Â identify Â his Â chappeau Â de Â paille Â [en Â Italie?]... Â This Â is Â a Â visit Â in Â my Â dreams, Â a Â vivisection Â of Â all Â the Â films Â Linder Â made Â and Â I Â will Â never Â know Â or Â have Â the Â chance Â to Â see... Â It Â is Â also Â an Â homage Â to Â the Â woman Â left Â with Â tears Â in Â her Â eyes Â and Â interrupting Â us Â from Â crying Â in Â the Â middle Â of Â projection. Â It Â is Â a Â projection Â of Â a Â projection Â and Â seeing Â Max Â tactfully Â taking Â a Â bath Â in Â public Â in Â a Â moment Â of Â sheer Â extravagance...an Â instant Â of Â liberating Â joy Â and Â fantasy... Â It Â is Â crying Â without Â a Â reason Â and Â laughing Â out Â loud Â for Â many. Â This Â is Â the Â experience Â which Â defines Â Le Â Giornate Â ÂƒÂ?Â†Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠÂ?Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ–Â–Â‡Â”ÂŠÂ‘Â™ÂŠÂƒÂ”Â† Â–Â”Â› Â…ÂƒÂ?ÇŻÂ–Â”Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ›Â‡ÂšÂ’ÂŽÂƒÂ‹Â?Â–Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ—ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â•Â–Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤ Â Â And Â also: Â Â Â I Â have Â all Â reasons Â to Â believe Â that Â such Â magical Â moments Â may Â have Â never Â occurred; Â that Â I Â am Â now, Â still Â walking, Â talking, Â writing Â in Â a Â dream. Â Â Â
Asta, Â the Â only Â woman Â like Â Hamlet. Â Â 96 Â Â
Â Â The Â festival Â had Â the Â nurturing Â purpose Â of Â feeding Â my Â obsession Â with Â Asta Â Nielsen Â in Â extremely Â Â…Â‘Â?Â’Â‡ÂŽÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‰ÇĄÂ›Â‡Â–Â˜Â‡Â”Â›Â•Â‹Â?Â’ÂŽÂ‡Â–Â‡Â”Â?Â•Ç¤ Â”Â‡Â?Â‡Â?Â„Â‡Â”Â…ÂƒÂ”Â”Â›Â‹Â?Â‰ÂƒÂ‘ÂŽÂ‘ÇŻÂ•Â„Â‘Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ•Â‹ÂˆÂ‹Â–Â™Â‡Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‡Â…Â”Â‡t Â artefact. Â Walking Â along Â in Â jubilation, Â pretending Â to Â read Â German Â and Â generally Â bragging Â to Â anyone; Â obliging Â friends Â to Â gaze Â at Â the Â magnificent Â photos Â with Â the Â same Â stupor Â as Â I Â did. Â And Â rightly Â so Â Č‚ Â Asta Â is Â the Â most Â adoring Â and Â adorable, Â sublime Â Hamlet Â on Â Â•Â…Â”Â‡Â‡Â? ÇŻÂ˜Â‡Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”ÂŠÂƒÂ†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â–Â‘Â•Â‡Â‡Ç¤ Â Â Jean, Â Darling Â Â It Â turned Â out, Â that Â Asta Â was Â not Â the Â only Â woman Â that Â would Â trigger Â such Â magnetic Â responses. Â Â The Â second-Ââ€?concerto Â with Â Jean Â Darling Â is Â part Â of Â those Â moments Â one Â never Â knows Â how Â to Â express Â or Â if Â one Â should Â address Â them Â in Â the Â first Â place. Â The Â problem Â is Â not Â one Â of Â connoisseurship Â but Â of Â Â”Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂ‹Â•Â‹Â?Â‰ Â‘Â?Â‡ Â…ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‘Â– Â…Â‘Â?Â’Â‡Â–Â‡ Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â‡ÂƒÂ?ÇĄ ÂƒÂ”ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‰ÇŻÂ• Â…Â‘Â?Â–ÂƒÂ‰Â‹Â‘Â—Â• Â•Â‡Â?Â•Â‡ Â‘Âˆ ÂŠÂ—Â?Â‘Â—Â”Ç¤ Â”ÇĄ ÂƒÂ• ÇŻÂ˜Â‡ Â—Â•Â‡Â† Â‡Â˜Â‹Â?Â”Â‘Â™Â?ÂŽÂ‘Â™ÇŻÂ•Â’Â”Â‡ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â‡Â–Â‘ÂƒÂ‘ÂŽÂ‘ÇŽthe Â information Â is Â there, Â the Â art Â has Â Â‰Â‘Â?Â‡Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤ÇŽ Â Â In Â the Â case Â of Â Jean Â Darling, Â the Â information Â is Â there Â and Â the Â art Â is Â plenty! Â Â Â Or, Â as Â I Â reflected Â earlier: Â Â Â Â ÇŽNeither Â the Â extraordinary Â Kurotegumi Â Sukeroku Â by Â Fuyushima Â nor Â the Â Divas Â and Â their Â complicated Â relationship Â with Â snakes Â or Â tigers Â (Bertini Â and Â Negri) Â could Â have Â prepared Â the Â audience Â for Â meeting Â Jean Â Darling. Â ÇŽ Â Â I Â was Â more Â than Â right. Â Like Â Linder, Â like Â Chaplin Â beforehand, Â it Â never Â seemed Â more Â obvious Â that Â comedy Â is Â tragedy Â Č‚ Â but Â with Â a Â tragic Â that Â never Â puts Â things Â down Â for Â good. Â Â I Â will Â always Â remember, Â Jean, Â walking Â out Â of Â the Â Auditorium Â accompanied Â by Â her Â young Â escort, Â a Â boyish Â gentleman. Â Â Seeing Â her, Â I Â Â•ÂƒÂ‹Â† Â‹Â? Âƒ ÂŠÂƒÂŽÂˆ Â–Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‹Â?Â‰ÇĄ ÂŠÂƒÂŽÂˆ ÂŒÂ‡ÂƒÂŽÂ‘Â—Â• Â?ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‡Â” ÇŽÂŠÂ‡Â? Â™Â‹ÂŽÂŽ ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡ Âƒ Â„Â‘Â› ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÇŤÇŻ Â–Â‘ Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠ Â•ÂŠÂ‡ Â’Â”Â‘Â?Â’Â–ÂŽÂ› Â”Â‡Â’ÂŽÂ‹Â‡Â† ÇŽÂƒÂ‹Â– Â–Â‹ÂŽÂŽ Â›Â‘Â—ÇŻÂ”Â‡ Â‡Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â›Ç¨ÇŻ Â™Â‡Â?Â– Â–Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â‡ÂšÂ– Â•Â…Â”Â‡Â‡Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â•Â–Â‹ÂŽÂŽ wearing Â that Â witty Â smile Â on Â my Â face. Â I Â hope Â to Â have Â the Â same Â energy, Â when Â I Â am Â forty. Â Â Â Â Â 97 Â Â
Â La Â Danse Â pas Â de Â deux Â or Â another Â kind Â of Â dancing Â Â Â I Â find Â here Â my Â old Â commentary Â in Â full: Â Â Â ÇŽÂŠÂ‘Â’Â‹Â?ÇŻÂ• Â’Â”Â‡ÂŽÂ—Â†Â‡ Č‚ Â Â‹Â• Âƒ Â‰Â‘Â‘Â† Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‡Â” ÂˆÂ‘Â” Â†Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â”ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â”ÇŻÂ• ÂƒÂ†Â˜Â‹Â…Â‡ Â‹Â? ÂŠÂ‡Â” Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ? Â‡Â?Â?Â‹Â• Â‡Â…Â–Â—Â”Â‡Ç¤ ÂˆÂ‡ÂŽÂ– ÂƒÂ– ÂŠÂ‘Â?Â‡ ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ”Â‹Â?Â‰ Â•Â‡Â?Â–Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â• ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡ÇĄ ÇŽÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ? Â‹Â• ÂƒÂŽÂ‹Â˜Â‡ÇŻÇĄ ÇŽÂŽÂ‡Â– Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂƒÂ—Â†Â‹Â‡Â?Â…Â‡ Â„Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÇŻÇĄ cinemateques Â instead Â of Â empty Â churches...the Â idea Â of Â taking Â your Â public Â on Â a Â journey, Â that Â is Â precisely Â what Â she Â did Â with Â her Â heart-Ââ€?warming Â speech. Â What Â does Â it Â mean Â to Â restore Â colour Â and Â to Â be Â taken Â on Â a Â mirage Â similar Â with Â tÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡Â†Â‹Â•Â…Â‘Â˜Â‡Â”Â›Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂ?Â‡Â”Â‹Â?Â‹ÇŻÂ•Rotaie Â ? Â This Â danse Â continued Â at Â the Â meeting Â of Â women Â and Â film Â history. Â Not Â to Â undermine Â the Â Golem, Â but Â for Â me Â Le Â Danse Â du Â Flambeau Â and Â the Â Pas Â de Â deux Â et Â soli Â and Â the Â pleasantly Â detectable Â sound Â Â of Â John Â Sweeney Â took Â me Â back Â in Â time, Â one Â year Â ago... Â where Â the Â whole Â film Â theory Â movement Â came Â to Â life Â inside Â me, Â when Â I Â Â•ÂƒÂ‹Â†ÇŽÂ…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ‹Â•Â?Â‘Â˜Â‡Â?Â‡Â?Â–ÇĄÂ‹Â•Â†ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ÇŻÇ¤Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤ Â Â Â Â Â‡Â–Â‘Â—Â”Â†Â—Â?Â‘Â?Â†Â‡Â†ÇŻÂ—Â?Â‡Â’Â‘ÂŽÂ‹Â…Â‹Â‡Â” Â Â ÂƒÂ‘ÂŽÂ‘ÇŻÂ• Â”Â‡Â…Â‘Â?Â?Â‡Â?Â†ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• ÂˆÂŽÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â…Â‡ÂŽÂŽÂ—ÂŽÂ‘Â‹Â† Â”Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â–Â‹Â?Â‡ Â–Â”ÂƒÂ˜Â‡ÂŽÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‰ ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂƒÂ†Â˜Â‡Â?Â–Â—Â”e Â works Â hand Â in Â hand Â with Â any Â vision Â of Â myth Â and Â return/rebirth. Â Dreaming, Â or Â waking Â up Â into Â dream, Â this Â is Â the Â closest Â description Â of Â the Â colouristic Â effects Â of Â this Â short Â piece. Â Even Â back Â then, Â I Â had Â a Â glimpse Â of Â its Â impenetrable Â function...It Â is Â no Â other Â but Â the Â untranslatable Â logic Â of Â the Â mythe Â in Â its Â Â’Â—Â”Â‹Â–Â›ÇĄ Â•ÂƒÂ‹Â† Â–Â‘ Â?Â›Â•Â‡ÂŽÂˆÇ¤ Â• Â‹Âˆ Âƒ Â…Â‘Â?Â…Â”Â‡Â–Â‡ Č‹Â›Â‡Â•ÇĄ Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹ÂƒÂŽÇĄ Â–Â‘Â?ÂƒÂŽÇĄ Â˜Â‹Â•Â—ÂƒÂŽČŒ Â”Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂ‹Â•ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â‹Â–Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‡ÇŻÂ• ÇŽÂ‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â?ÂƒÂŽ ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â›ÇŻ Č‚ Â Â…Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ† Â•Â’Â‡ÂƒÂ? ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â– Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â’Â”Â‹Â?Â–ÇŻÂ• ÂƒÂ˜Â‘Â‹Â†Â‹Â?Â‰ Â‘Âˆ Â†Â‡Â…ÂƒÂ› ÂƒÂ?Â† Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• ÂƒÂ„Â”Â—Â’Â– Â…Â‘Â?ÂˆÂ‡Â•Â•Â‹Â‘Â? could Â satisfy Â my Â insatiable Â wish Â for Â romantic Â transcendence Â and Â idealism. Â This Â memory Â fulfilled Â is Â what Â gave Â me Â the Â sparkle Â for Â the Â Gancean Â trajectories Â to Â inhabit, Â now, Â at Â the Â time Â of Â writing. Â Â Â Â Apropos Â de Â (ve)nice Â reflections Â on Â a Â vaporetto Â without Â ticket Â Â Â Such Â line Â appears Â last Â on Â my Â forgotten Â notes. Â It Â reads Â as Â if Â I Â could Â meditate Â upon Â my Â innate Â Eastern-Ââ€?European Â predilection Â towards Â Spiritualism, Â Dadaism Â and Â good Â old Â superstition Â since Â my Â final Â epitaph, Â without Â even Â envisaging Â such Â atrocious Â misbehaving, Â unmercifully Â predicts: Â Â Â Â Â 98 Â Â
Ǯ ǯ ǤǤǤ Ǥǯ What is more telling than a zero or a commendable conduite is the fact that more important than the mythe is only, the return. Pordenone is my home and the greatest pleasure for any prodigious daughter is the liberating joy of forgiveness, the sheer pleasure of coming back and not surprisingly making the same mistakes as the year before, but no matter what, keeping and treasuring that particular flavour. As Gance so often proclaimed Ȃ Ǯere is no great cinema, without Ǩǯ
The Â Canon Â Revisited Â Č‚A Â chance Â to Â meet Â old Â friends Â (or Â enemies) Â and Â to Â make Â new Â ones Â Â Stefanie Â Tieste Â Â Ç˛Â‡Â”Â–ÂƒÂ‹Â?ÂŽÂ› Â™Â‡ Â…ÂƒÂ? Â–Â”ÂƒÂ…Â‡ ÂŠÂ‹Â‰ÂŠÂŽÂ‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â• ÂƒÂ?Â† Â–Â”Â‡Â?Â†Â•ÇĄ ÂˆÂ‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‘Â™ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â…ÂƒÂ”Â‡Â‡Â”Â• Â‘Âˆ directors Â and Â stars, Â acknowledge Â the Â masterpieces Â and Â failures, Â and Â perhaps Â shatter Â a Â few Â myths. Â But Â while Â the Â history Â of Â the Â world Â is Â relatively Â safe Â from Â the Â sudden Â discovery Â of Â evidence Â that Â will Â cast Â new Â light Â on Â the Â achievement Â of Â Hammurabi Â or Â Alexander Â the Â Great, Â the Â much Â younger Â history Â of Â the Â film Â is Â always Â liable Â to Â reassessment Â through Â the Â reappearance Â of Â a Â singÂŽÂ‡Â’Â”Â‹Â?Â–Ç¤ÇłČ‹Â‹ÂŽÂŽÂ‹ÂƒÂ?Ç¤Â˜Â‡Â”Â•Â‘Â?ČŒ1 Â
Â Factories, Â railroad Â tracks, Â wheels Â of Â trains Â carrying Â people Â to Â far Â away Â destinations, Â fade Â out, Â some Â ÂŽÂƒÂ•Â– Â?Â‘Â–Â‡Â• ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â’Â‹Â–ÇĄ ÂƒÂ’Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ—Â•Â‡Ç¤ ÂŠÂ‡Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂŽÂ‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â• Â–Â—Â”Â? Â‘Â? ÂƒÂ?Â† Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â…Â‘Â?Â–Â”Â‘Â˜Â‡Â”Â•Â‹Â‡Â• Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â–ÇŁ Ç˛Â‘Â™ ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂœÂ‹Â?Â‰Ç¨ÇłÇĄÇ˛ Â—Â•Â–Â‰Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ–Ç¨ÇłÇĄÇ˛Â‹Â†Â›Â‘Â—Â•Â‡Â‡ÇĽÇŤÇłÂ„Â—Â–ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â‘Ç˛ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â”Â‹Â?Â‰Â’Â‹Â…Â–Â—Â”Â‡Č‚ Â Â†Â‹Â†Â?ÇŻÂ–Â‰Â‡Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â‡Â?Â•Â‡ÇĽÇł Â Â Â•Â›Â‘Â—ÂƒÂŽÂ”Â‡ÂƒÂ†Â›Â?Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â‰Â—Â‡Â•Â•Â‡Â†ÇĄ ÇŻÂ?Â•Â’Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰Â‘ÂˆRotaie Â by Â Mario Â Camerini, Â but Â the Â reactions Â of Â Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ—Â†Â‹Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â™Â‡Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•ÂƒÂ?Â‡ÂƒÂˆÂ–Â‡Â”Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”Â›Â•Â…Â”Â‡Â‡Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‡Â™Ç˛ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?Â‡Â˜Â‹Â•Â‹Â–Â‡Â†ÇłÂ•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â• the Â Giornate Â del Â Cinema Â Muto Â introduced Â in Â its Â 28th Â year. Â Â Like Â every Â October Â silent Â film Â lovers Â from Â all Â over Â the Â world Â pilgrimage Â to Â Pordenone Â to Â enjoy Â a Â week Â filled Â with Â rarities Â of Â the Â silent Â era Â presented Â under Â ideal Â conditions, Â i.e. Â best Â available Â print, Â correct Â projection Â speed Â (although Â this Â is Â also Â a Â frequently Â discussed Â subject) Â and Â of Â course Â live Â musical Â accompaniment Â by Â some Â of Â the Â most Â renowned Â specialists Â for Â the Â subject Â matter. Â But Â this Â year Â the Â festival Â guests Â are Â facing Â a Â novÂ‡ÂŽÂ–Â›ÇŁÂ•Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â–Ç˛Â™ÂƒÂ”ÂŠÂ‘Â”Â•Â‡Â•ÇłÂ•Â…Â”Â‡Â‡Â?Â‡Â†Â?Â‘Â–Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›Â†Â—Â”Â‹Â?Â‰Â•Â’Â‡Â…Â‹ÂƒÂŽ Â‡Â˜Â‡Â?Â–Â•Â„Â—Â–ÂŽÂ‹Â•Â–Â‡Â†Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡Â‰Â—ÂŽÂƒÂ”Â•Â…ÂŠÂ‡Â†Â—ÂŽÂ‡ÇĄÂ?ÂƒÂ”Â?Â‡Â†ÂƒÂ•Ç˛Â…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÇłÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•Ç¤ Â Â
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 1 Â William Â K. Â Everson: Â American Â Silent Â Film Â (New Â York: Â Da Â Capo Â Press, Â 1998), Â p. Â 15. Â
100 Â Â
As you will see, the various reactions to these screenings of silent film classics in a new context will be the main subject of this essay, but as many discussions during the festival week have ǡ ȋȌǲ ǳǤ Going back to biblical ages, establishing a canon has a long tradition. In its antique sense the canon mainly gives rules for the (religious) life by deciding which texts should become part of the Bible, in the Late Classic Period only the works of certain canonical names were taught and therefore survived while texts of many non-‐canonical authors are lost forever. In literature and other arts a canon was established at the latest in the 18th century as a selection of works that were considered important, norm-‐ǡǤǤǲ ǳ considered the fundamental basis of a good education. Furthermore establishing a canon can endow a group with identity and (ethical) values, giving it subjects under discussion and hence a differentiation from other groups. As soon as film was considered an art, it therefore had to face an issue that had already been an Ǯǯǡ ǡ its own. ǲǳǡ the daǡǤǤǲ -‐time films for N.Y. Evening ǳ2 ǲ ǯ ͳͲͲ ǥǳ ǡ Ǥ ǯ ǯǯȋ sing in all modesty six films of his own) the AFI lists reflect the taste of a certain audience at a time, giving no guarantee for the artistic Ǥȋǡǯ Modern Times) silent ǲ ǯͳͲͲǥͳͲͲ Ȃ ͳͲǳǤ newcomers The General, Intolerance and Sunrise ǡ ǲǳ canon for a long time are now being recognized by the general public not only as important films but also as very entertaining films. 2 See: Paolo Cherchi Usai (ed.): The Griffith Project. Volume 11 (London: BFI Publishing, 2007), p. 186f.
Â Â—Â–Â•Â’Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰Â‘ÂˆÂƒÇ˛Â•Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â–ÇłÂ…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?ÇĄÂŠÂ‘Â™Â†Â‘Â‘Â”Â†Â‡Â?Â‘Â?Â‡Â˜Â‹Â•Â‹Â–Â‘Â”Â•Â†Â‡ÂˆÂ‹Â?Â‡Ç˛ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?ÇłÂƒÂ?Â†Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• would Â they Â vote Â in? Â Â Ç˛Â›Â†Â‡ÂˆÂ‹Â?Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?ÇŤ Â Č‚ Â ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• Â™Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â–ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â–Â‘ÂƒÂŽÂ‘Â?Â‡ÂŽÂ›Â‹Â•ÂŽÂƒÂ?Â†Ç¤ÇłČ‹ÂƒÂ”Â…Â‘ÂƒÂ•Â•Â?ÂƒÂ?Â?ČŒ Â Â
Â?ÂƒÂ†Â†Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â–Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…Â”Â‹Â–Â‡Â”Â‹Âƒ Â’Â”Â‘Â˜Â‹Â†Â‡Â†Â„Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡ÇĄÂ”Â‹Â•Â–Â‹Â?ÂƒĂšÂŠÂŽÂ‡Â”Č‹Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â‰Â‹Â—Â?Â?Â‡Â?Â„Â‡Â”ČŒÂ†Â‡ÂˆÂ‹Â?Â‡Â•ÂƒÇ˛Â‰Â‘Â‘Â†Ç˛ film Â (using Â this Â attribute Â with Â some Â careful Â irony) Â as Â a Â film Â that Â pleases Â and Â that Â is Â being Â considered Â important Â by Â many Â people, Â even Â after Â a Â long Â time, Â a Â film Â that Â gives Â the Â input Â for Â an Â interesting Â analysis Â and Â a Â film Â that Â has Â (had) Â some Â influence Â on Â later Â pictures. Â Therefore Â such Â a Â film Â can Â be Â accepted Â as Â a Â good Â piece Â of Â work Â even Â if Â it Â does Â Â?Â‘Â–ÂƒÂ’Â’Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂ–Â‘Â•Â‘Â?Â‡Â‘Â?Â‡ÇŻÂ•Â’Â‡Â”Â•Â‘Â?ÂƒÂŽÂ–ÂƒÂ•Â–Â‡Ç¤ Â Â ÂƒÂ”Â? Â—ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â”Â—Â?Â†Â‡Â”Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â†Â•ĚśÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?ĚśÂ–Â‘Â„Â‡Ç˛Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â•Â‡ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡ÇĄÂ„Â›ÂƒÂ?Â‹ÂšÂ–Â—Â”Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ…Â‹Â”Â…Â—Â?Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â•-Ââ€? Â early Â availability, Â early Â writings Â on Â cinema Â for Â instance Â -Ââ€? Â become Â Sacred Â Cows, Â unassailable Â in Â reputation, Â whether Â or Â not Â they Â necessarily Â deserve Â it Â from Â our Â perspective, Â as Â possibly Â more Â ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‡Â”ÂƒÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â•Â‹Â?Â…Â‡Â„Â‡Â…Â‘Â?Â‡ÂƒÂ˜ÂƒÂ‹ÂŽÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‡Â–Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡Â™Ç¤ÇłÂ›Â”Â‹ÂƒÂ? Â—ÂƒÂ?Č‹Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â‰Â‹Â—Â?Â?Â‡Â?Â„Â‡Â”ČŒÂƒÂ‰Â”Â‡Â‡Â• Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ–ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â’Â‘Â‹Â?Â–Â‘ÂˆÂ˜Â‹Â‡Â™Â„Â›Â•ÂƒÂ›Â‹Â?Â‰Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Ç˛Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÇŽÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?ÇŻÂ‰ÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â•ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•Â…Â‘Â?Â•Â‹Â†Â‡Â”Â‡Â†Â„Â›Â–ÂŠÂ‡specialists Â of Â Â…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÂƒÂ•ÇŽÂ‹Â?Â‡Â•Â…ÂƒÂ’ÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‡ÇŻÂˆÂ‘Â”ÂƒÂ‡Â•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â–Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂƒÂ?Â†Â?Â‘Â”Â‡Â‘Â˜Â‡Â”ÂˆÂ‘Â”ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ”Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‘Â?Â•Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”Â‡Â—Â•Â—ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ›Â‘ÂŽÂ† and Â not Â often Â discussed. Â They Â are Â films Â whose Â titles Â are Â well-Ââ€?known Â by Â every Â film Â lover Â Č‚ Â and Â furthermore Â Č‚, Â that Â everyone Â who Â pretends Â to Â be Â interested Â in Â cinema Â is Â able Â to Â locate Â in Â the Â ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â›Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÍšÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ”Â–ÂƒÂ?Â†ÇŽÂ•ÂŠÂ‘Â—ÂŽÂ†ÇŻÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â•Â‡Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ–ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ•Â–Â‘Â?Â…Â‡Č‚ Â Â‡Â˜Â‡Â?Â‹ÂˆÂ‹Â–Â‹Â•Â?Â‘Â–ÂƒÂŽÂ™ÂƒÂ›Â•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂƒÂ•Â‡Ç¤Çł Â Â Ç˛Â’Â–Â‘Â?Â‘Â™ÇĄÂ…ÂŽÂƒÂ•Â•Â‹Â…Â•ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡ÂŽÂƒÂ”Â‰Â‡ÂŽÂ›Â•Â‡ÂŽÂ‡Â…Â–Â‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â•Â‡ÂŽÂ˜Â‡Â•Â„Â›Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â”ÂƒÂ˜ÂƒÂ‹ÂŽÂƒÂ„Â‹ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â›Çł (Kevin Â Brownlow) Â Â But Â by Â communicating Â with Â people Â from Â other Â culture Â groups Â one Â crucial Â point Â was Â made: Â however Â a Â canon Â is Â defined Â or Â set Â up, Â you Â must Â always Â consider Â your Â personal Â and Â cultural Â background, Â even Â in Â adjoining Â countries. Â Being Â used Â to Â the Â fact Â that Â in Â Germany Â the Â mere Â existence Â of Â a Â canon Â of Â any Â kind Â is Â being Â questioned Â and Â that Â there Â are Â many Â competing Â canons Â for Â literature, Â art, Â music Â etc., Â I Â always Â had Â a Â relatively Â wide Â perspective Â on Â the Â subject Â matter. Â ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡ Â™ÂƒÂ•Â•Â—Â”Â’Â”Â‹Â•Â‡Â†Â™ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‹Â…ÂŠÂƒÂŽÂ‡ÂŤÂ‡Ă˘ÂƒÇĄÂƒÂŽÂ•Â‘ÂƒÂ‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â‰Â‹um Â member, Â pointed Â out Â that Â in Â the Â 102 Â Â
ͳͲǲ ǳǡ Ǥ ǲǳǡǲ titles such as Nosferatu or The Battleship PotemkinǤǳ ǡ ǡ ǯAbwege (1928) ǯ Michel Strogoff ȋͳͻʹȌǡǣǲ ̵ǡ these not so famous titles are sometimes more interesting than the others. And I have to say, that in my personal canon are some Czech movies which are of poor quality, but they're closer to me Ǥǳ Lila Foster, a Collegium member from Brazil, couches the problem of building up a canon in more general terms by saying that ǲthe definition of a canon can be an enormous matter that relies on so many aspects -‐ ǡ ǡǡǮǯ determined by each group that contributes to the construction of canons (it can be historians, film historians, critics, directors, old and new generations, all of them with similar or different standpoints). Canons are by definition a result of a social and collective effort, both in intellectual terms (film theory, academic debate) and practical terms (film preservation, research and ȌǤǳ ǲ ǡ ǡ Ǥǳ(Hugo Rios-Cordero) But there are also votes against the establishment of a canon. Josef Jünger (Karlsruher Stummfilmtage -‐ Karlsruhe Silent Film Days) refuses to accept the idea of generally acknowledged ǡ ǲ ǡ Ǥǳ es, the reception of works of art also changes. So we have to think over the status of every single film again and again. If there was such thing as an all-‐ ǡǯ ǤǤ
And Hugo Rios-‐Cordero (Collegiu Ȍ Ǯ ǯ Ǯ ǯ indicate that the construction of a canon can be dangerous and useful at the same time: ǲ because it ide Ǥǳ Dealing with these different perceptions and expectations relating to a canon and therefore to the ǲ ǳ ǡ ȋ Ȍ ǡ programme, which criteria he had established for the series. As expected, he told me that there are multiple criteria for the series as there are multiple definitions of a canon. Mainly the programme refers to films that have been considered important by the founding fathers of film historiography and by the audience of the time. Additionally to these important film titles there are canonical authors like Dreyer, John Ford or Hitchcock, or even canonical actors which have made more than one important film and hence Ǥǲ the beginning of the story, because then we have to relate the canon to the practicality of the festival and the history of the festival and the history of other festivals where silent films are being Ǥǳ festivals or to films that have been shown at the Giornate but only such a long time ago that the younger audience does not remember them. For the selection of 2009, the films chosen belong to all these categories, as e.g. Rotaie, Gunnar Hedes Saga or The Ten Commandments had never been screened at the Giornate. The selection of the Stiller film Gunnar Hedes Saga, for example, resulted from the fact that Georges Sadoul considers this film in his Dictionary of Films ǯ ǲ ǳ3, even if it might not be his most famous film. This shows that the series allows itself a certain degree of flexibility, so that in the future there could be titles included which were considered canonical once but maybe are no longer today, or vice versa. ǲȗ Ǩȗ ̵ ǮǯǡǫǳȋNitrateville) 3
Georges Sadoul: Dictionary of Films. Translated, edited, and updated by Peter Morris (Berkeley, Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1972), p. 141.
ǲ ǳȋ Usai), there was some fear that people would not come to see the films because they are too well known and widely available on DVD, but it turned out to be exactly the opposite. With the silent Hitchcock retrospective in Sacile in 1999 the Giornate had a similar experience: Paolo Cherchi Usai remembers that before organizing the retrospective they were very afraid that no one would come because the Hitchcock films were already widely available, but the series turned out to be a huge Ǥǲǡ ȏȐ ǳǡ for some it even was as if they were watching the films for the first time. This proves that somehow the big screen experience contributes to the development of a critical discourse Ȃ also to a critical discourse on the canon. ǲ Der GolemǤǳȋ Ȍ But it is not only the big screen experience; the music also plays an often underestimated part. How important the musical accompaniment can be for the reception of a film and therefore also for its status within the canon can be seen in the example of Der Golem Ȃ wie er in die Welt kam by ȋͳͻʹͲȌǤǲ ǳǯ ǡ could not have differed more. Having seen this film before, once actually on the big screen, accompanied by a good and solid cinema organ score, I was looking forward to watching this film ǡ ǡǲmusic for film ǳǤ narrative and to und ǲ ǳǤ4 I would not have expected that this would be the first time I found this movie physically exhausting. The story had never been so hard to follow, the weaknesses of the production had ǡ ǯǤ virtually standing between the screen and me, always calling for my attention, not only because it was there in a very loud and for me unpleasant way (maybe also because I was sitting fairly in 4 Kristin Thompson on Der Golem Ȃ wie er in die Welt kam, Giornate Catalogue 2009, p. 98.
Â ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â?Â–ČŒ Â„Â—Â– ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â‘ Â„Â‡Â…ÂƒÂ—Â•Â‡ Â‹Â– Â™ÂƒÂ•Â?ÇŻÂ– Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ ÂƒÂ– ÂƒÂŽÂŽ Â‹Â? Â?Â‘Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â• Â™ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ Â™Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ† ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡ Â?Â‡Â‡Â†Â‡Â† Â•Â‘Â?Â‡ background Â music. Â Č‚ Â Maybe Â at Â this Â point Â I Â should Â stress Â that Â I Â am Â not Â at Â all Â criticising Â the Â performance Â of Â the Â ensemble. Â Č‚ Â And Â most Â of Â the Â members Â of Â the Â audience Â I Â spoke Â to Â after Â the Â screening Â agreed Â with Â me. Â Especially Â the Â seemingly Â unmotivated Â moments Â of Â silence Â were Â problematic Â because Â they Â made Â highly Â dramatic Â sequences Â appear Â ridiculous. Â Â And Â vice Â versa Â people Â named Â titles Â like Â The Â Merry Â Widow Â or Â ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡ Â as Â their Â favourite Â (canonical) Â ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â›Â‡ÂƒÂ”ÇŻÂ• ÂˆÂ‡Â•Â–Â‹Â˜ÂƒÂŽÇĄ Ç˛Â?Â‘Â– Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ› Â„Â‡Â…ÂƒÂ—Â•Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â› ÂƒÂ”Â‡ Â‰Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ– ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• Â„Â—Â– ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â‘ Â„Â‡Â…ÂƒÂ—Â•Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â—Â•Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽ performances Â were Â absolutely Â astonishing Â during Â the Â screeÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰Â•Ç¤ÇłČ‹Â›Â”Â‹ÂƒÂ? Â—ÂƒÂ?ČŒ Â Â Ç˛ ÂˆÂ‘Â—Â?Â†Â‹Â–ÂˆÂ—Â?Â?Â›Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â•Â‘Â?Â‡Â’Â‡Â‘Â’ÂŽÂ‡ÂŽÂ‡ÂˆÂ–Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â™ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â›Â”Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂ‹ÂœÂ‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÇŽÂ’Â‡Â’ÂŽÂ—Â?ÇŻ Â’ÂƒÂ”Â–Â™ÂƒÂ•Â‘Â˜Â‡Â”Ç¨ÇłČ‹ÂƒÂ‘ÂŽÂ‘ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â…ÂŠÂ‹Â•ÂƒÂ‹Â‘Â?the Â Ten Â Commandments Â screening) Â Â Besides Â Der Â Golem Â Č‚ Â wie Â er Â in Â die Â Welt Â kam Â (Paul Â Wegener, Â 1920) Â the Â following Â titles Â were Â Â‘ÂˆÂˆÂ‹Â…Â‹ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ› Â’ÂƒÂ”Â– Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‹Â”Â•Â– Â‹Â?Â•Â–ÂƒÂŽÂ?Â‡Â?Â– Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Ç˛ÂŠÂ‡ ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â? Â‡Â˜Â‹Â•Â‹Â–Â‡Â†Çł Â•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â•ÇŁ ÇŻÂƒÂ…Â…Â—Â•Â‡ Â (Abel Â Gance, Â 1919), Â Gunnar Â Hedes Â Saga Â (Mauritz Â Stiller, Â 1923), Â The Â Ten Â Commandments Â (Cecil Â B. Â DeMille, Â 1923), Â Du Â Skal Â Aere Â Din Â Hustru Â (Carl Â Theodor Â Dreyer, Â 1925), Â Dom Â na Â Trubnoi Â (Boris Â Barnet, Â 1928) Â and Â Rotaie Â (Mario Â Camerini, Â 1929). Â Â With Â The Â Ten Â Commandments Â the Â canon Â series Â had Â a Â significant Â start: Â whoever Â wants Â to Â get Â this Â Â•Â‹ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â–ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‘Â?Â™Â‹ÂŽÂŽÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â–Â‘Â„Â—Â›Â–ÂŠÂ‡Ç˛ÍľÂ‹Â•Â…Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â…Â–Â‘Â”ÇŻÂ•Â†Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇłÂ–Â‘Â‰Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ÍłÍťÍˇÍ¸Â˜Â‡Â”Â•Â‹Â‘Â?ÇĄ for Â this Â title Â is Â widely Â known Â only Â for Â its Â remake Â [it Â is Â the Â same Â with Â Ben Â Hur Â from Â 1925 Â / Â 1959]. Â And Â even Â then Â the Â 1923 Â version Â is Â available Â only Â in Â black Â and Â white Â with Â some Â faded Â colour Â footage Â of Â the Â Exodus Â and Â Parting Â of Â the Â Red Â Sea Â sequence Â as Â special Â feature. Â So Â I Â was Â really Â thrilled Â to Â get Â a Â chance Â to Â see Â a Â tinted Â and Â toned Â print Â and Â Č‚ Â of Â course Â Č‚ Â especially Â the Â Handschiegl Â sequences, Â also Â because Â getting Â as Â far Â as Â possible Â to Â the Â original Â screening Â conditions Â of Â a Â film Â ÂƒÂŽÂ™ÂƒÂ›Â•ÂŠÂ‡ÂŽÂ’Â•Â?Â‡Â–Â‘Â—Â?Â†Â‡Â”Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â†Â™ÂŠÂ›ÂƒÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â…Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â„Â‡Â•Â‘Â•Â—Â…Â…Â‡Â•Â•ÂˆÂ—ÂŽÇ¤Â”ÂƒÂ•Â‡Â˜Â‹Â?Â”Â‘Â™Â?ÂŽÂ‘Â™Â’Â—Â–Â‹Â–ÇŁÇ˛It Â was Â a Â good Â idea Â to Â include Â old Â warhorses Â like Â The Â Ten Â Commandments, Â because Â their Â success Â tells Â you Â much Â about Â audiences Â of Â the Â time. Â I Â think Â De Â Mille Â made Â far Â better Â films Â Č‚ Â from Â The Â Cheat Â to Â The Â Godless Â Girl Â Č‚ Â but Â that Â was Â the Â one Â that Â drew Â people Â in Â their Â millionsÇ¤ÇłÂ—Â–Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â—Â–Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â?Â†Â‹Â?Â‰Â‹Â– Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘Â”Â†Â‡Â?Â‘Â?Â‡ Â•Â…Â”Â‡Â‡Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â‘ Â–Â‘ÂŽÂ† Â?Â‡ Â•Â‘Â?Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‰ ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â– Â–Â‘Â†ÂƒÂ›ÇŻÂ• Â”Â‡Â…Â‡Â’Â–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÇĄ ÂƒÂ• Â•Â‘Â?Â‡ 106 Â Â
people left the cinema when the biblical part of the story was over, because the 1956 version does not contain a modern part and is in f ǲ-‐ǳǤ ǲ ǯ Ǥǳ ȋ Salagean, Collegium member) The discussion on the correct projection speed of ǯ in the Collegium session the day before ǲǳ ȋ quality, appropriate music, correct projection speeds and aperture plates) may be much more important for the canonical status of a silent film than for a (modern) sound film. It is hardly imaginable that ǯ would have been rightfully considered canonical when shown at sound speed (as Kevin Brownlow was forced to do in his 1968 documentary Abel Gance Ȃ The charm of dynamite). ǯ ǯ Ǥ restorer Annike Kross was right in deciding that the film should be shown at 16 ǡ ǲ audience has to be convinced of the film, which means speedwise that 18 fps would be a bit too fast, 16 Ǥǳ ǣǲ was surely J'accuse of Abel Gance. First of all I was afraid of its length and the screening of it in the eveninǡ Ǥǳȋ «âȌǤ ǲ - especially Du Skal Aere Din Hustru Ȃ I think they ǯ- Ǯ ǯǤǳȋ Ȍ Personally, I think every film was fascinating in its own and often very different way but, of course, not every film of the series could be expected to generate the same amount of feedback. While Du Skal Aere Din Hustru was enjoyed by many because it is f ǲ ǳ ȋ Ȍǡ ǯ Gunnar Hedes Saga ȋ ǲ ǳȌǤ
Â have Â based Â his Â judgement Â oÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â„Â‡Â‹Â?Â‰Â–Â‹ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â”ÇŻÂ•Â„Â‡Â•Â–ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â˜Â‹Â‡Â™Â‹Â?Â‰Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â…Â‘Â?Â’ÂŽÂ‡Â–Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”Â•Â‹Â‘Â? Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠ ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ– ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡ Â•Â‡Â‡Â? ÂƒÂ– Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â–Â‹Â?Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÇŻÂ• Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽ Â”Â‡ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ•Â‡ Â”ÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â” Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â—Â”Â˜Â‹Â˜Â‹Â?Â‰ fragmentary Â version, Â it Â is Â hard Â -Ââ€? Â if Â not Â impossible Â -Ââ€? Â Â–Â‘Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ’Â’Â”ÂƒÂ‹Â•Â‡Â–Â‘Â†ÂƒÂ›ÇŻÂ•Â…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â–ÂƒÂ–us Â of Â this Â film. Â So Â I Â and Â the Â persons Â I Â talked Â to Â afterwards Â appreciated Â the Â power Â of Â the Â pictures Â and Â blamed Â the Â difficulties Â in Â understanding Â the Â story Â here Â and Â there Â on Â the Â incomplete Â print Â as Â well Â as Â the Â late Â screening Â hour. Â Â Ç˛The Â House Â on Â Trubnaya Â Square Â for Â the Â film Â itself, Â is Â extremely Â funny, Â high Â spirited Â ÂƒÂ?Â†Â…Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ‹Â?ÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â”Â›Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â™ÂƒÂ›Ç¤ÇłČ‹Â‹ÂŽÂƒ Â‘Â•Â–Â‡Â”ČŒ Â One Â of Â the Â unexpected Â highpoints Â of Â the Â series Â was Â Dom Â na Â Trubnoi. Â The Â film Â starts Â with Â a Â familiar Â way Â of Â storytelling, Â a Â young Â woman Â from Â the Â countryside Â enters Â the Â city Â and Â everything Â goes Â wrong, Â but Â then Â the Â picture Â freezes Â and Â the Â whole Â audience Â holds Â its Â breath Â for Â a Â moment, Â when Â the Â pictures Â rewind Â and Â start Â to Â tell Â the Â story Â at Â the Â very Â beginning. Â Asking Â someone Â about Â Dom Â na Â Trubnoi Â this Â sequence Â is Â most Â likely Â the Â first Â that Â is Â remembered. Â Being Â amazing Â and Â intriguing Â in Â its Â storytelling Â as Â well Â as Â in Â its Â visual Â language, Â the Â film Â even Â allowed Â us Â to Â forget Â that Â the Â surviving Â print Â was Â missing Â a Â reel. Â By Â screening Â this Â film, Â the Â Giornate Â eÂ?ÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â•Â‡Â™ÂŠÂ‘Â†Â‹Â†Â?ÇŻÂ– know Â the Â film Â before Â to Â get Â a Â wider Â perspective Â on Â Russian Â cinema Â and Â showed Â us Â how Â fragile Â Â…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â? ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â• Â…ÂƒÂ? Â„Â‡ÇĄ Ç˛because Â the Â very Â fact Â that Â it Â was Â unknown Â and Â unexpectedly Â funny Â Â–Â—Â”Â?Â‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â™ÂŠÂ‘ÂŽÂ‡Â‹Â†Â‡ÂƒÂ‘ÂˆÂ…ÂŽÂƒÂ•Â•Â‹Â…Â•Â‘Â?Â‹Â–Â•ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ†Ç¤ÇłČ‹Kevin Â Brownlow) Â Â Ç˛Rotaie Â Â™ÂƒÂ• Âƒ ÂˆÂƒÂ•Â…Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â?Â‰ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ? Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â–ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â• Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ‰Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â‡Â’Â‹Â… ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â? Â–ÂƒÂŽÂ‹ÂƒÂ? Â…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÇ¤Çł (Hugo Â Rios-ÂCordero) Â Â The Â only Â film Â that Â could Â outrank Â Dom Â na Â Trubnoi Â as Â most Â favoured Â film Â of Â the Â canon Â series Â was Â Rotaie. Â Being Â very Â impressed Â with Â this Â ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ? Â•Â–Â‘Â’Â’Â‡Â†ÂˆÂ‡Â‡ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‰Ç˛Â‰Â—Â‹ÂŽÂ–Â›ÇłÂ‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â–Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– ÂŠÂƒÂ†Â?Â‡Â˜Â‡Â” heard Â of Â it Â when Â I Â discovered Â that Â Kevin Â Brownlow Â and Â Russell Â Merritt Â were Â also Â unfamiliar Â with Â Â‹Â– Â‘Â” Â…Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â?ÇŻÂ– Â–Â‡ÂŽÂŽ Â™ÂŠÂ› Â‹Â– Â™ÂƒÂ• Â…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÇ¤ Â?Â–Â‹Â…Â‹Â’ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–Â‡Â?Â†Â‡Â?Â…Â‹Â‡Â• Â‘Âˆ Â?Â‘Â†Â‡Â”Â? Â…Â‹Â?Â‡Â?ÂƒÇĄ Ç˛Rotaie Â surprised Â me Â because Â it Â seemed Â like Â a Â very Â modern Â film, Â tense Â and Â with Â a Â wonderful Â opening Â sequence. Â And Â as Â a Â film Â on Â the Â frontier Â of Â the Â silent Â and Â sound Â movies, Â the Â direction, Â the Â acting Â and Â
108 Â Â
Â the Â ambiance Â makes Â the Â addition Â of Â sound Â almost Â like Â an Â obvious Â next Â sÂ–Â‡Â’Â‹Â?ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?Â?ÂƒÂ”Ç¤ÇłČ‹Â‹ÂŽÂƒ Foster) Â Â Â Â?Â†ÂƒÂŽÂ–ÂŠÂ‘Â—Â‰ÂŠ ÂƒÂ?Â†Â?ÂƒÂ?Â›Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â•ÂˆÂ‘Â—Â?Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â„Â‡Ç˛Â†Â‡ÂˆÂ‹Â?Â‹Â–Â‡ÂŽÂ›ÂƒÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ•Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â?Â‡Â†Â‹Â–Â•Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ…Â‡Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?ÇłČ‹Â”Â‹Â•Â–Â‹Â?ÂƒĂšÂŠÂŽÂ‡Â”ČŒÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡Â™Â‡Â”Â‡ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â‘Â…Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ˜Â‘Â‹Â…Â‡Â•ÇĄÂ”Â‡Â‰ÂƒÂ”Â†Â‹Â?Â‰Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂŠÂƒÂ’Â’Â›Â‡Â?Â†Â‹Â?Â‰Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â› or Â the Â development Â Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â›Â‹Â–Â•Â‡ÂŽÂˆÇŁÇ˛ÂŠÂ‘Â•Â‡Â–Â™Â‘Â›Â‘Â—Â?Â‰Â’Â‡Â‘Â’ÂŽÂ‡ÂŽÂ‡ÂˆÂ–Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”Â›Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‰ÇŽÂ‘ÂŽÂ†ÇŻÂ„Â‡ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â†ÂƒÂ?Â† Â™Â‡Â”Â‡ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â‹Â?Â‰ÂƒÂ?Â—Â?Â…Â‡Â”Â–ÂƒÂ‹Â?ÂˆÂ—Â–Â—Â”Â‡Ç¤Â—Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â›Â†Â‡Â˜Â‡ÂŽÂ‘Â’Â‡Â†Â‹Â?Â–Â‘ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂ”Â”ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â˜Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â›Â‘Â—Â?Â‰Â?ÂƒÂ?ÇŻÂ• Â…Â‘Â?Â’Â—ÂŽÂ•Â‹Â˜Â‡Â‰ÂƒÂ?Â„ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‰ÂƒÂ?Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ…ÂŠÂ‡Â†ÂƒÂŽÂ‘Â™Â‡Â”ÂŽÂ‡Â˜Â‡ÂŽÇ¤ÇłČ‹ Â‘Â•Â‡Âˆ Ă˛Â?Â‰Â‡Â”ČŒ Â Â But Â hoÂ™Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”Â‘Â?Â‡ÇŻÂ•Â’Â‡Â”Â•Â‘Â?ÂƒÂŽÂ”Â‡Â…Â‡Â’Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â?Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â„Â‡ÇĄÂƒÂ–Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â’Â‘Â‹Â?Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â•Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â™Â‡Â†Â—Â•Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– every Â country Â has Â a Â canon Â of Â its Â own Â that Â could Â be, Â once Â communicated, Â shared Â by Â many Â others: Â Â Â Ç˛Â‡Â‘Â’ÂŽÂ‡ ÂƒÂ”Â‡ Â‡Â?Â–ÂŠÂ—Â•Â‹ÂƒÂ•Â–Â‹Â… ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â– Rotaie Â and Â can't Â understand Â why Â this Â fÂ‹ÂŽÂ? Â™ÂƒÂ• ÇŽÂ…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÇŻ only Â in Â Italy. Â I Â think Â Rotaie Â Â™Â‹ÂŽÂŽÂ”Â‡Â…Â‡Â‹Â˜Â‡Â‡ÂšÂ–Â‡Â?Â•Â‹Â˜Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â–Â‡Â?Â–Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ„Â”Â‘ÂƒÂ†ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â?Â?Â‘Â™Â‘Â?Ç¤Çł (Paolo Â Cherchi Â Usai) Â Â Ç˛ÂƒÂ•Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‹Â‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ†Â‡ÂƒÂ†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â‹Â?Â‘Â—Â”ÂŒÂ—Â†Â‰Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂ™Â‘Â”Â?ÇĄÂ‘Â” Č‚ Â in Â the Â best Â tradition Â of Â a Â maverick Â form Â Č‚ Â has Â it Â expÂŽÂ‘Â†Â‡Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â†Â‡ÂƒÂ‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?ÇŤÇłČ‹Â—Â•Â•Â‡ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â”Â”Â‹Â–Â–ČŒ Â Â Â•Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â˜Â‹Â•Â‹Â–Â‘Â”Â•ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â”ÂˆÂƒÂ˜Â‘Â—Â”Â‹Â–Â‡Â…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â›Â‡ÂƒÂ”ÇĄ Â‰Â‘Â–Â?Â‘Â–Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â•Â‡Ç˛Â‘ÂˆÂˆÂ‹Â…Â‹ÂƒÂŽÇłÂ–Â‹Â–ÂŽÂ‡Â• mentioned Â before Â as Â an Â answer Â but Â also Â other Â titles Â screened Â like Â The Â Merry Â Widow, Â Carmen, Â and Â Die Â Gezeichneten Â or Â even Â Dream Â of Â the Â Rarebit Â Fiend Â and Â The Â Sinking Â of Â the Â Lusitania. Â This Â shows Â that Â the Â canon Â debate Â went Â further Â than Â only Â considering Â the Â films Â included Â in Â the Â series. Â Especially Â with Â Carmen Â being Â not Â only Â a Â canonical Â film Â for Â its Â story Â but Â also Â for Â its Â author Â Jacques Â Feyder, Â for Â some Â weeks Â I Â was Â convinced Â it Â had Â been Â in Â the Â canon Â series Â before Â I Â had Â to Â realize Â that Â Â‹Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ†Â„Â‡Â‡Â?Â’ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Ç˛ÂŽÂ„ÂƒÂ–Â”Â‘Â•ÇłÂ’Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‡Ç¤Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ›Â„Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂˆÂ—Â–Â—Â”Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â•Č‚ Â to Â avoid Â such Â confusion Â or, Â even Â better, Â to Â put Â the Â films Â and Â the Â whole Â series Â in Â a Â bigger Â context Â Č‚ Â there Â could Â be Â some Â sort Â of Â double-Ââ€?labelling, Â if Â a Â definitely Â canonical Â film Â is Â part Â of Â another Â programme. Â Â As Â for Â the Â programming Â of Â the Â series Â itself, Â on Â the Â one Â hand Â the Â wish Â emerged Â that Â there Â should Â be Â more Â screenings Â of Â well-Ââ€?known Â classics Â and Â enshrined Â films, Â on Â the Â other Â hand Â the Â argumentation Â was Â that Â Č‚ Â as Â these Â well Â known Â films Â are Â widely Â spread Â Č‚ Â it Â would Â be Â better Â to Â screen Â some Â less Â 109 Â Â
Â Â?Â?Â‘Â™Â? Â?Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡Â•Ç¤ Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â? Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â›Â‡ÂƒÂ”ÇŻÂ• Â’Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‡ Â–he Â Giornate Â found Â a Â good Â compromise Â Â„Â‡Â–Â™Â‡Â‡Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â‡Â–Â™Â‘Â’Â‘Â•Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â•ÂƒÂ?Â†Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â‰Â‘Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â•Ç¤ Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â‰Â‹Â—Â?Â•Â‡Â•Â•Â‹Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â–Ç˛ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â? Â‡Â˜Â‹Â•Â‹Â–Â‡Â†ÇłÇĄCaligari Â was Â mentioned Â a Â few Â times Â as Â paradigm Â of Â a Â well Â known Â and Â widespread Â film Â and Â still Â there Â is Â no Â decent Â DVD Â release Â available Â in Â its Â land Â of Â production, Â Germany, Â so Â I Â would Â Â‰Â”Â‡Â‡Â– Âƒ Â•Â…Â”Â‡Â‡Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â„Â‡Â•Â– ÂƒÂ˜ÂƒÂ‹ÂŽÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‡ Â’Â”Â‹Â?Â– Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠ ÂŽÂ‹Â˜Â‡ ÂƒÂ…Â…Â‘Â?Â’ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‡Â?Â–ÇĄ Â•Â‹Â?Â…Â‡ Â•Â‘Â?Â‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• Ç˛have Â become Â 'famous Â for Â being Â famous', Â and Â quite Â often Â the Â films Â are Â no Â longer Â seen; Â because Â there Â is Â an Â emphasis Â at Â Festivals Â for Â new Â discoveries, Â new Â restorations, Â and Â retrospectives... Â [And Â even Â worse:] Â if Â the Â film Â in Â question, Â like Â Dom Â na Â Trubnoi, Â doesn't Â have Â a Â famous Â star Â or Â director, Â who Â Â™Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â™Â‹Â–ÇŤÇŤÂ?Â†Â•Â‘Â—Â•Â?Â‡Â™Â…Â‘Â?Â‡Â”Â•Â†Â‘Â?ĚľÂ–Â•Â‡Â‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Ç¤Ç¤Ç¤ÇłČ‹Mark Â Fuller) Â Â But Â however Â different Â the Â opinions Â about Â the Â selection Â of Â the Â films Â are, Â there Â is Â one Â congruence: Â the Â motivation Â for Â the Â selection Â of Â the Â films Â should Â be Â exposed Â in Â a Â few Â words, Â so Â that Â the Â films Â can Â Â„Â‡Â’Â—Â–Â‹Â?Â–Â‘Â…Â‘Â?Â–Â‡ÂšÂ–Ç˛Â‹Â?Â‘Â”Â†Â‡Â”Â–Â‘Â‘Â’Â‡Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?Ç¤Çł(Hugo Â Rios-Ââ€?Cordero) Â Â Ç˛ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘Â”Â†Â‡Â?Â‘Â?Â‡ ÇŽÂ…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?ÇŻ Â™Â‹ÂŽÂŽ Â’Â”Â‘Â˜Â‡ Â˜Â‡Â”Â› Â‹Â?Â’Â‘Â”Â–ÂƒÂ?Â– ÂˆÂ‘Â” ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ? ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â›Ç¤Çł Č‹Â‡Â˜Â‹Â? Brownlow) Â Â Being Â part Â of Â the Â younger Â generation Â that Â the Â series Â is Â primarily Â aimed Â at, Â the Â selection Â of Â the Â films Â was Â a Â pleasant Â surprise, Â because Â I Â found Â myself Â being Â confronted Â with Â (and Â convinced Â by) Â films Â I Â ÂŠÂƒÂ†Â?ÇŻÂ–ÂŠÂƒÂ†ÂƒÂ…ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â–Â‘Â•Â‡Â‡Â„Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡Â„Â—Â–ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â‹Â?Â‰Â…ÂŽÂƒÂ•Â•Â‹Â…Â•Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â™ÂƒÂ?Â†Â•Â‘Â?Â‡Â–Â‹Â?Â‡Â•Â?Â‘Â–Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â›-Ââ€?going Â Â’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â?Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Ç¤ÂŠÂ‡Ç˛ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?Â‡Â˜Â‹Â•Â‹Â–Â‡Â†ÇłÂ•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‡Â•Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â™Â•Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ?Â›Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‘Â?Â•Â™ÂŠÂ›ÂƒÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â…ÂƒÂ? be Â Â…ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â?Â‹Â…ÂƒÂŽ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â‹Â– Â’Â”Â‘Â˜Â‹Â†Â‡Â• Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â’Â‘Â•Â•Â‹Â„Â‹ÂŽÂ‹Â–Â› Â‘Âˆ Ç˛Â–ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–ÂŠÂ‘Â•Â‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â” Â’Â‡Â†Â‡Â•Â–ÂƒÂŽÂ• ÂƒÂ?Â† Â…Â‘Â?ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â?Â–Â‹Â?Â‰Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ?Â‘Â†Â‡Â”Â?Â˜Â‹Â‡Â™Â‹Â?Â‰ÂŠÂƒÂ„Â‹Â–Â•Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‰Â—Â•Â–Â‘Â†Â‹Â•Â…Â—Â•Â•Â™ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â•ÂƒÇŽÂ‰Â‘Â‘Â†ÇŻÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?ÂƒÂ?Â† what Â were Â the Â circumstances Â of Â the Â development Â of Â the Â canon Â in Â the Â ÂˆÂ‹Â”Â•Â– Â‹Â?Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Ç¤Çł Č‹Â”Â‹Â•Â–Â‹Â?Âƒ KĂśhler). Â Â So Â it Â is Â my Â wish Â that Â the Â series Â shall Â be Â continued Â with Â the Â same Â fortunate Â mixture Â of Â 1. Â films Â being Â Â…Â‘Â?Â•Â‹Â†Â‡Â”Â‡Â†Ç˛Â–Â‘Â‘Â™Â‡ÂŽÂŽ-Ââ€?Â?Â?Â‘Â™Â?ÇłČ‹ÂƒÂ?Â†Â‘ÂˆÂ–Â‡Â?Â™Â‹Â†Â‡ÂŽÂ›ÂƒÂ˜ÂƒÂ‹ÂŽÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‡Â‘Â?ČŒÂƒÂ?Â†Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â‡Â?Â‘Â–Â„Â‡Â‹Â?Â‰Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â™Â? theatrically Â (e.g. Â Der Â Golem), Â 2. Â films Â everybody Â has Â read Â about Â but Â never Â actually Â seen, Â at Â least Â in Â their Â entirety Â (e.g. Â The Â Ten Â Commandments) Â and Â 3. Â films Â few Â people Â have Â heard Â about Â let Â alone Â seen Â (e.g. Â Dom Â na Â Trubnoi). Â 110 Â Â
But for the final words of this essay I will stand back as these shall belong to members of the
ǲǳǤ ǲ ̵ Ǣ shown at the Giornate in the 22 years I wasn't able to make the trip; it would be nice for me and ǨǨǳȋ Ȍ ǲ ǯ Ǥ ǯ that in years to come the Giornate will choose basic classic titles that will be the occasion for re-‐ evaluating the oft-‐ ǡ Ǥǳ ȋl Merritt) ǲ ǡ ǡ -‐ enticing idea Ȃ Paolo is ̵ ̵ȏǥȐ ̵ revisited' as something -‐ provocative as well, something that you re-‐visit means that you allow yourself to be transformed to change your preconceived ideas etc... to know to learn to find out... ȏǥȐ -‐ were wonderful... [...] -‐ however I hope the 2010 series to be even more surprisinȀ Ǥǳȋ Ȍ
ǲ ǳ better than Kevin Brownlow so the very last word shall be his:
ǲ stereotyped titles. Pordenone showed that it could be full of surprises and delights designed to make us think again about those films we have always accepted as the Ǥǳ
With many thanks to all those who have so patiently answered my questions and who helped me writing this essay.
Detectives and criminals of the silent cinema «â It was not the famous author of Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who invented criminal ǤǯǤThey can be traced to stories from the Bible, to Cain and Abel, or to King Solomon, who with the help of his wisdom solved many contentions between his dependants. Because of the use of reasoning he became something like an ancient predecessor of Sherlock Holmes. In later times, there could be found many other examples ǯ Zadig, which is probably inspired by old stories from the Orient and it is set to the Ǥ ǯ royal stables, just because he deduced what had happened only thanks to a small amount of cues. Similar stories also existed among native people in the North America and if anybody focused more on this matter, he would probably find much more of them everywhere in the world. The popularity of such stories caused that they became to be adapted for the silver screen very soon and stayed popular from the beginning of the 20th century to the present times. ǣ ǯ only movies with Sherlock Holmes as the main character, but it went further and proved, by showing movies from different countries, that this type of movies is a worldwide phenomenon. In general, the last note about detective and crime movies is that this category became so wide and diverse that tr ǯ trends and types of this part of cinematography. The great width of this topic is partly the reason, ǡ ǯcluded in the Sherlock Holmes cycle. How literature gave birth to the genre patterns The first man, who is usually connected with the first use of a detective as a character of a solving a crime with inductive methods, was Edgar Allan Poe with his short story trilogy Murders in the 112
rue Morgue, The Purloined letter and The Mystery of Marie Roget. He found inspiration in Vidocq, a former French convict and later a head of police in Paris in the first half of the 19th century. The Memoirs of Vidocq are concidered to be the first literary work where detective is described as a Ǥ ǯ Ǥǯ character in Murders in the Rue Morgue, Arthur Chevalier Dupin, was using deductive methods, but ǳǲ-‐professional scientific investigator and in this sense of professionalism A. C. Dupin was similar to his ancestor Sherlock Holmes, the most iconic detective of all times. According to these statements it is obvious, that we can find two elementary types of investigating characters. The first one is an amateur, usually an intelligent upper class man investigating just for his personal interest, and the second type is a professional, man from the middle class, who is, in particular, rather relentless than ingenious. And these two types of characters can be seen in crime and detective movies too, mainly because of the fact that a lot of them were taken from literary texts. Although this pattern works in most of the movies. For example when the spectator ǯ Ǥ To categorize criminals in a similar way as detectives and to find if there is any established pattern, we would need to analyze many other movies. But at least it seems obvious that a detective from lower class combating a wealthy thief is rather exceptional when. And when such a situation occurred, the impression it had might be called, in the way of understanding the social classes order, a little bit perverse. In cinematography these relations allowed filmmakers to transform such a disruption to a spectacle and the social order was usually reinforced by the end of the movie. Despite the fact that it is not possible to identify the a pattern connecting criminals, similarities can be noted between them and detectives. The best known example is Arthur J. Raffles, World war I veteran and a cricket champion, created by E. W. Hornung during 1890s. He reminds us of the character of Bulldog Drummond except the fact thaǯ ǲǳ Ǥ ǲǳ Manders. Their relationship is based on similar principles as that between Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. 113
Next interesting aspect of the crime and detective stories was that readers and cinemagoers in many cases felt strongly the difference between real life and fiction presented in books or films. ǯͳͻth century or the wave of gangster movies in early thirties of the 20th century. The most frequently mentioned fact was that in real life it was much more difficult to solve crimes successfully, which also meant that in many cases ǯ Ǥ ǯ film colleagues, their investigations were limited by laws, they only had small number of cues etc.. From reactions of critics, readers, spectators and even criminals themselves it was obvious that ǯ Ǥ The movies screened within the Sherlock Holmes cycle were obviously chosen with few basic criterions. The first of them was to cover the silent era as completely as it possible, so the programme consisted of screenings were performed films from all the first three decades of the 20th century. Second criterion can be described as an intention to break the reputation of Sherlock Holmes as the canonical icon and introduce the public to some movies from different countries with different heroes, who are not considered as well-‐known but without them the ǯǤ Crime old as the celluloid itself Two oldest movies screened in Pordenone were both made in 1909. The first, Bobby the Boy Scout, stands on a border between two different cinematic styles. The movie itself is by its structure similar to the famous Rescued by Rover, and we might assume that this similarity stems from former collaboration of Bobby the Boy Scoutǯ Rescued by Roverǯ ǤǯǤ situations that we might call humorous and that give the movie its grotesque feeling: for example the Boy Scout, while he is chasing villains, jumping over the wall. This is combined with unobtrusive scout propaganda Ȃ the boy scout solved the crime in place of the police. In the outcome bringing together these two styles creates for the spectator of the 21st century the uncertainty about how much a spectator is supposed to take the film seriously, but we can only hardly imagine how the impact on public when it was released for the first time. 114
The Peril of the Fleet, which is the second film made in 1909, showed that there was significant influence of policy on cinema from its beginnings. Spy story about plans of destroying the royal Ǥ ǯ fear of Germǯ Ǥ Germany and Great Britain which also appeared in the cinematography. This could partly be seen ǯ and why we might consider the film to be a spy movie with marks of contemporary propaganda, rather than pure detective or criminal story. In the end of the first and at the beginning of the second decade of the 20th century, detective movies moved closer to specific characters. This change worked on principles analogical to the rules of a star system. A well-‐known character, similarly to a film star, was one of the aspects that might attract the public to movies. This intention becomes evident in serial films which emerged in the first half of the second decade. We can see examples in French series Fantomas, Les Vampires and Judex directed by Louis Feuillade. Also in the U. S. there were similar series, and the most famous one was The Perils of Pauline with actress Pearl White who became the prototype of a modern woman and she continued her career in other serial films. The fifth part of The Perils of Pauline, The Aerial Wire, can be considered an example of how this serial looked like. Its structure was restricted to solving an important problem and it usually ends with a dramatic situation. This type of serial was rather an action movie than a story about ingenious detective using sophisticated inductive methods. Although we might use the word criminal while describing serial films, it is necessary to note that they are mainly based on action and thrilling situations. Sherlock Holmes Baffled (1900) which I mentioned before is considered to be the earliest known movie featuring the famous hero. In Denmark the first Sherlock Holmes film was made in 1906. Plans for making a cycle came just two years later, in 1908. Six of them were directed Viggo Larsen before his moving to Germany. After that, during 1911, Nordisk produced six more movies with Sherlock HoǤǯSherlock Holmes i Bondefangerklør (1910) was the oldest movie using Ǯ Ǥ Next series was produced by French company 115
Éclair that bought rights from Arthur Conan Doyle in 1911 and the very same year they started production of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It is not easy to say whether this series is French or British, as it was shot in Great Britain and almost all of the cast were British, but the data about a production company vary dependent on the source of information. Crime and detective movies were produced in other parts of Europe too, and we might mention Germany, Italy and Czechoslovakia. Italian example La Mano Accusatrice made in 1913 was a simple crime story where the criminal was found guilty thanks to the faked signature. The ǡǯ the main character. Three mov Ǥ ǯ to heighten the moral value of their movies and to anticipate problems with censorship by trying to leave the pulp literature and to become more sophisticated. Stuart Webbs-‐ ǯDer Gestreifte Domino (1915) tried to find balance between thrilling situations and sophisticated ǯ Ǥ Also Rudolf Meinert adapted Sherlock Holmes stories. In 1914 he worked with one of the best known A.C. ǯǡDer Hund von BaskervilleǤǡǯ the novel, being simplified, with some changed parts and some even abandoned. In a way its structure was very similar to the film mentioned previously. Simplifications were useful for combining the action with crime investigation and again, the action is the main attraction, so the difficult relationships between individual characters were given minor importance. This is evident ǯ ǡ ǡ ǡ discover him until the end of the story. The third German movie, William Voss, der Milliondieb (1916), was significantly similar to the older Der Hund von Baskerville by the linearity of the plot, simplicity of the main characters and many other aspects. When animals strike or how Rover caught the kidnapper
Animal heroes played special role in cinema. Before the World War II they were very popular, especially when they acted like human or were performing tasks, which are usually done by human. These animal characters were present in cinema from its beginnings. The most famous ǯ Rescued by Rover ȋͳͻͲͷȌǡ ǯ e only one. We ǯ The Dog Detective ȋͳͻͲȌǡ ±ǯ Les Chien Policiers ȋͳͻͲȌǡǯ ǯ (1912). These and many others can be more or less considered as Rescued by Roverǯ-‐offs, because their structure and style were similar. A Canine Sherlock Holmes, only considering the title, surely belongs to this tradition, and we might observe it in other genre too: for example in western movies like those with Rin Tin Tin. Animals also acted as main characters of cartoons quite often, probably because it was easy to animate pictures of anything what a cartoon-‐film maker wanted. For instance there were series about Krazy Kat, Felix the Cat or, in the case of Sherlock Holmes cycle, the series about a dog called Ǥ ǡ ǯ exceptionality of this cartoon, so I can only suppose, based on the big number of other cartoons, that there were more animated detective movies, and to consider the one screened as an exemplary case. Thanks to the imagination and creativity of artists involved, movies of this type were usually grotesque comedies using some characteristics of other genres. In the case of Detective Bonzo and the Black Hand Gang it was mainly the criminal motive mixed with grotesque animation. The hegemony of Stoll Film Company movies Films of the Stoll Film Company screened during 28th Pordenone festival, made an impression, that the Company was the leader of the British market in detective movies. The core of their crime genre production can be seen in two film series Ȃ Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Fu-‐Manchu. After the success of the first The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (15 episodes), 1922 brought The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and in 1923 the Last Adventures of Sherlock Holmes followed. These series were complemented by two feature-‐length movies The Sign of Four (1923) and The Hound of Baskervilles (1921). Their Sherlock Holmes is quite an iconic character, almost like transferred directly from the literature to the silver screen. As judged in the context of the Pordenone 117
screenings, he is the purest representation of a detective from the upper class. Stoll films followed Arthur Conan Doǯ ǯǤ ǡ Ǥ ǤǤǯ ter looks like being created for comparison with his ingenious colleague. Despite the fact that Watson was ǡ ǯ deep, and he partly serves as a translator of his colǯ Ǥ comparison, Sherlock Holmes looks much smarter and ingenious. And this crystallization of ǯ Ǥ was the Stoll film production, which blessed the character with deeper psychological depiction, by uncovering some parts of his past and by already mentioned relationship with Doctor Watson. ǯ Mystery of Dr. Fu Manchu and Further mysteries of Dr. Fu Manchuǡ ǯ ȏȐ second decade of the 20th century. The capacity of a main character is divided between criminal villain, Fu Manchu, and two detectives, Sir Denis Nayland Ǥ ǯ Asian descent probably was not accidental. Although the number of immigrants originally from ǯǡ might call xenophobic today. The two detectives are quite similar to Holmes and Watson. Smith was more like Holmes, using his deductive abilities, and Dr. Petrie played the more action role. Aside of those series about characters of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Fu Manchu and the whole Sherlock Holmes cycle, stands a movie called The Four Just MenǤ ǯ ǲ Ȃ ǳǤ y, Sir Philip Ramon, not to pass Aliens ȋ Ƿǲ political asylum). In opposite contrast to other films mentioned above, this one was based mainly on depicting wealthy criminals as ingenious men using cunning methods for terrorizing. Thus, this ǯ classes to fight with wealthy criminals is broken. Policemen are almost always few steps behind
Â their Â opponents Â in Â this Â movie. Â Such Â situations Â make Â sometime Â really Â spectacular Â effect Â when Â combined Â with Â their Â really Â effective Â suspension Â methods. Â Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â parodies Â and Â banker Â Fux Â breaking Â the Â pattern Â Â
Â? ÂƒÂ†Â†Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â? Â–Â‘ ÂƒÂŽÂŽ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Ç˛Â•Â‡Â”Â‹Â‘Â—Â•Çł Â?Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡Â• mentioned Â above, Â the Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â retrospective Â offered Â a Â lot Â of Â comedies. Â These Â were Â produced Â since Â the Â first Â crime Â movies Â appeared Â on Â the Â silver Â screen. Â Some Â comical Â elements Â were Â evident Â in Â already Â mentioned Â Bobby, Â the Â Boy Â Scout. Â A Â large Â number Â consisted Â of Â parodies Â of Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â character, Â belonging Â more Â to Â the Â slapstick Â or Â comedy Â genre. Â It Â was Â movies Â like Â The Â Mystery Â of Â Leaping Â Fish Â Č‹ÍłÍťÍłÍ¸ČŒÂ‘Â”Â—Â•Â–Â‡Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ–Â‘Â?ÇŻÂ•Sherlock, Â Jr. Â or Â The Â Sleuth, Â which Â was Â the Â part Â of Â the Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â cycle. Â It Â was Â made Â in Â 1925 Â and Â the Â Â?ÂƒÂ‹Â? Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‡Â” Â‹Â• Â’ÂŽÂƒÂ›Â‡Â† Â„Â› Â–ÂƒÂ? ÂƒÂ—Â”Â‡ÂŽÇ¤ Â? ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â”Â‘ÂŽÂ‡ Â‘Âˆ Â†Â‡Â–Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ ÂŠÂ‡ Â‹Â•Â?ÇŻÂ– ÂƒÂ• Â•Â—Â…Â…Â‡Â•Â•ÂˆÂ—ÂŽ Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â‹Â?Â˜Â‡Â•Â–Â‹Â‰ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â?Â‰ÂƒÂ• Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂ?ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?Â‰Â‰ÂƒÂ‰Â•ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂˆÂ—Â?Â?Â›Â‡ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â…Â–Â•Ç¤Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â†ÇĄÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡ÇŻÂ•Â•Â–Â”Â—Â…Â–Â—Â”Â‡ Â‹Â• quite Â similar Â to Â the Â classical Â detective Â movie Â and Â humorous Â effects Â were Â made Â mainly Â by Â ÂƒÂ™Â?Â™ÂƒÂ”Â†Â?Â‡Â•Â•Â‘ÂˆÂ†Â‡Â–Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ÇŻÂ•Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂ…Â–Â‡Â”Ç¤ Â Â In Â Czechoslovakia Â most Â movies Â were Â based Â on Â novels Â or Â plays Â of Â czech Â writers, Â which Â were Â of Â really Â provincial Â kind Â and Â their Â artistic Â value Â is Â doubtful. Â It's Â necessary Â to Â see Â lÂ?Â‘Â•Â„ÂƒÂ?Â?ÂąĂ˘Â‡ Â—ÂšÂ‡in Â the Â context Â of Â all Â czech Â movies. Â Obviously Â Czechoslovak Â filmmakers Â had Â to Â know Â foreign Â movies, Â because Â Czechoslovak Â cinematography Â was Â strongly Â dependant Â on Â the Â import Â of Â foreign Â movies Â through Â the Â whole Â silent Â era, Â and Â this Â dependece Â was Â most Â evident Â in Â the Â second Â decade Â of Â 20th Â century, Â when Â there Â was Â not Â any Â established Â cinematographic Â industry. Â This Â situation Â caused Â that Â czechoslovak Â filmmakers Â knew Â very Â well Â films Â from Â other Â countries Â and Â consequently Â inspired Â themselves Â by Â methods Â widely Â developed Â abroad, Â which Â they Â could Â see Â almost Â in Â every Â cinema. Â But Â it Â is Â very Â difficult Â to Â apply Â general Â patterns Â on Â lÂ?Â‘Â• Â„ÂƒÂ?Â?ÂąĂ˘Â‡ Â—ÂšÂ‡ Â in Â their Â full Â means. Â They Â have Â often Â been Â changed, Â used Â only Â partly Â and Â in Â every Â pattern Â used, Â something, Â even Â a Â little Â thing Â is Â changed. Â Although Â lÂ?Â‘Â•Â„ÂƒÂ?Â?ÂąĂ˘Â‡ Â—ÂšÂ‡ Â fits Â into Â the Â category Â of Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â parodies Â too, Â its Â structure Â is Â a Â little Â bit Â different. Â It Â was Â directed Â by Â Karel Â Anton Â and Â featured Â Anny Â Ondra Â and Â Karel Â ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂŤÇ¤ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â?Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡Â™ÂƒÂ•Â?ÇŻÂ–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›Â‘Â?Â‡Â‘Âˆ Â this Â style Â in Â Czechoslovakia, Â and Â the Â interesting Â fact Â is, Â Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â?Â?Â›Â?Â†Â”ÂƒÇĄÂƒÂ”Â‡ÂŽÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂŤÂ‘Â” ÂƒÂ?Ç¤Â‘ÂŽÂžÂ”Â’ÂƒÂ”Â–Â‹Â…Â‹Â’ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â†Â‘Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‘Â”Â‡Â–Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â—Â”Â‡Â† Czechoslovak Â movies. Â 119 Â Â
Â The Â first Â czechoslovak Â film, Â which Â could Â be Â categorized Â in Â detective Â genre, Â DÂžÂ?ÂƒÂ•Â?ÂƒÂŽÂ‘Â—Â?Â‘Ä Â?Â‘Â—ÇĄ Â Â™ÂƒÂ• Â†Â‹Â”Â‡Â…Â–Â‡Â† Â„Â› Ă˘Â‡Â?Â›Â•ÂŽ Â”ÂƒÄ Â•Â?Ă˝ Â‹Â? ÍłÍťÍłÍťÇ¤ Â– Â’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â?Â–Â• Âƒ Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â› Â‘Âˆ ÂŽÂ‘Â‘Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ ÂˆÂ‘Â” Âƒ Â›Â‘Â—Â?Â‰ ÂŽÂƒÂ†Â› Â™ÂŠÂ‹ÂŽÂ‡ knowing Â only Â the Â size Â of Â her Â foot, Â so Â no Â real Â crime Â is Â present Â at Â all. Â Characters Â have Â English Â names, Â a Â sign Â of Â inspiration Â by Â models Â from Â English-Ââ€?speaking Â countries. Â The Â second Â main Â feature, Â after Â the Â names, Â is Â the Â absence Â of Â criminal Â principal Â villain. Â In Â 1921 Â a Â movie Â called Â Â–Â”ÂžÂ˜Â‡Â?ÂąÂ•Â˜ÂłÂ–ÂŽÂ‘ Â was Â made, Â as Â s Â pure Â criminal Â movie Â inspired Â by Â models Â inform Â foreign Â movies. Â It Â had Â characters Â like Â detective Â and Â his Â enemy, Â young Â woman Â and Â wealthy Â man, Â the Â story Â was Â about Â mysterious Â murders Â and Â its Â sudden Â reversions Â of Â the Â plot. Â Â Finally, Â lÂ?Â‘Â•Â„ÂƒÂ?Â?ÂąĂ˘Â‡ Â—ÂšÂ‡follows. Â Originally Â it Â belonged Â with Â the Â lost Â movie Â called Â Tu Â ten Â kĂĄmen Â Č‹ÍłÍťÍ´ÍľČŒÂ–Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â‘Â…ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â†Ç˛Â?ton-Ââ€?Â…Â‘Â?Â‡Â†Â‹Â‡Â•ÇłÂ…Â›Â…ÂŽÂ‡Ç¤Â?ÂŽÂ›Â‘Â?Â‡Â›Â‡ÂƒÂ”ÂŽÂƒÂ–Â‡Â” ÂƒÂ”Â‡ÂŽÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂŤÂ†Â‹Â”Â‡Â…Â–Â‡Â† Â?Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡ ÂŠÂ›ĂŤÂ–Â‡ÂŠÂ‘, Â which Â is Â similar Â to Â lÂ?Â‘Â•Â„ÂƒÂ?Â?ÂąĂ˘Â‡ Â—ÂšÂ‡ÇĄÂ™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂŠÂ‹Â?Â•Â‡ÂŽÂˆÇĄÂ?Â?Â›Â?Â†Â”ÂƒÂƒÂ?Â†ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â†Â‘Â”Â‹ĂŚÂ–ÂłÂ?Â‹Â? as Â main Â characters. Â This Â film Â was, Â in Â its Â style, Â the Â most Â similar Â contemporary Â Czechoslovak Â movie Â to Â the Â previous Â one. Â In Â comparison Â with Â some Â other Â contemporary Â czech Â movies Â its Â production Â was Â much Â more Â expensive Â and Â it Â is Â much Â more Â cosmopolite Â than Â the Â most Â of Â other Â contemporary Â czechoslovak Â movies. Â Â Â The Â story Â of Â lÂ?Â‘Â•Â„ÂƒÂ?Â?ÂąĂ˘Â‡ Â—ÂšÂ‡follows Â a Â banker Â and Â his Â creditor, Â Tom Â Darey, Â who Â both Â want Â to Â Â‰Â‡Â–Â?ÂƒÂ”Â”Â‹Â‡Â†Ç¤ÂƒÂ?Â?Â‡Â”ÇŻÂ•Â†ÂƒÂ—Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â‡Â”ÂƒÂ‹Â•Â›Â’Â—Â–Â•ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂ†Â˜Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â•Â‡Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‡Â™Â•Â’ÂƒÂ’Â‡Â”ÇĄÂ„Â‡Â…ÂƒÂ—Â•Â‡Â•ÂŠÂ‡Â™ÂƒÂ?Â–Â• her Â father Â to Â meet Â Maud, Â her Â friend. Â She Â also Â meets Â Darey, Â who Â hires Â a Â detective Â to Â follow Â her. Â After Â many Â mistakes Â are Â made Â by Â all Â the Â characters Â all Â end Â well. Â Â Â If Â one Â should Â compare Â lÂ?Â‘Â•Â„ÂƒÂ?Â?ÂąĂ˘Â‡ Â—ÂšÂ‡ Â with Â other Â Pordenone Â movies, Â the Â most Â similar Â would Â be Â The Â Sleuth Â with Â Stan Â Laurel. Â But Â only Â when Â it Â comes Â to Â their Â slapstick Â style, Â almost Â everything Â else Â looks Â Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â‡Â?Â–Ç¤ Â”Â‘Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â”Â– Â•Â›Â?Â‘Â’Â•Â‡Â• ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â˜Â‡ Â‹Â– Â‹Â• Â…ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ” Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â†Â‡Â–Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ÇŻÂ• Â”Â‘ÂŽÂ‡ ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‡ Â‹Â• Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ› supporting. Â His Â name Â is Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â II., Â and Â we Â can Â suppose Â that Â he Â belongs Â to Â middle Â class, Â ÂƒÂŽÂ–ÂŠÂ‘Â—Â‰ÂŠÂ‹Â–Â‹Â•Â?ÇŻÂ–Â‘Â’Â‡Â?ÂŽÂ›Â•ÂƒÂ‹Â†Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡Ç¤ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â?ÂŽÂ›Â’Â”Â‘Â„ÂŽÂ‡Â?Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂŠÂ‹Â•Â’rofessionalism Â is Â his Â a Â little Â bit Â absurd Â behavior Â and Â mistakes Â he Â makes. Â But Â it Â is Â the Â essential Â part Â of Â the Â slapstick Â humor Â in Â Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â?Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡Ç¤ Â?Â…Â‘Â?Â’ÂƒÂ”Â‹Â•Â‘Â?Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ—Â”Â‡ÂŽÇŻÂ•Â†Â‡Â–Â‡Â…Â–Â‹Â˜Â‡ÇĄÂœÂ‡Â…ÂŠÂŠÂ‡Â”ÂŽÂ‘Â…Â?Â‹Â•Â?ÇŻÂ–ÂƒÂ•ÂƒÂ™Â?Â™ÂƒÂ”Â†ÇĄÂŠÂ‹Â•Â?Â‹Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â• are Â caused Â just Â accidentally, Â as Â almost Â all Â of Â the Â plot Â reversions Â in Â the Â movie. Â Finally, Â a Â detective Â Â—Â•Â—ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ› Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â†Â• Â‘Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â‹Â†Â‡ Â‘Âˆ ÂŽÂƒÂ™ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â†Â‘Â‡Â•Â?ÇŻÂ– Â†Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‰Â• Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠ Â™Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ† Â„Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ? Â‹Â–Ç¤ ÂŽÂ–ÂŠÂ‘Â—Â‰ÂŠ Â‘Â—Â” 120 Â Â
detective is introduced with properties typical for original Sherlock Holmes Ȃ clothes and pipe -‐ he ǡ Ǥ ǲ ǳ ǡ Ǥ from other Pordenone movies is similarly, as in the case of ā, the fact that Ǥ ǡ æ³ǡ ǯ ǡ ǯ Ǥ ǯ ascendants are wealthy aristocrats, but they lost their money and now he is a swindler with Ǥ ǯ be probably so easily acceptable in societies which are more conservative in these matters. In ǡ ǲ ǳ War I, when old Austrian-‐Hungarian Empire fell and new democratic republic was established. This kind of revolution was also accompanied by the abolition of all aristocratic titles, because of their dividing of society into classes became inadmissible in democratic country. The movie also presents its viewer with an enormous amount of absurd situations, from Tom Darey hiding in a closet with an aquarium, over the introduction of count Pommery as an aristocrat and showing his not entirely legal job, to the crazy situation with kidnapping the banker instead of his daughter. In this way it mixed the slapstick elements with absurd crazy comedy typical for the beginnings of sound era. This feeling comes mainly from the changes of characters and their identity, the detective becomes criminal, swindler becomes detective etc. and none of them is really positive character. The way how main female character Daisy behaves can be sen as presenting the cultural and social clima in society of 20's. Her person is at the beginning of movie depicted as very materialistic Ȃ she says, that she bankrupted, but she and her friend Maud is almost lost in piles of clothes. This kind of materialism can be connected to their sexuality, because it creates the feeling of their perversion. Similar to them was Daisy's father banker Fux who was depicted as extravagant dandy and there could be foun other examples of it in the movie. In general this feeling of decadence and eccentricity was supposed to be congruent with the taste of the audience. 121
Â Conclusion Â Â Crime Â and Â detective Â movies Â emerged Â from Â literary Â tradition, Â which Â is Â as Â long Â as Â the Â history Â of Â human Â civilization. Â In Â fact, Â cinema Â just Â took Â patterns Â of Â characters Â and Â then Â developed Â them Â further. Â Repeating Â of Â some Â signs Â creates Â patterns, Â which Â are Â then Â often Â broken Â of Â changed Â by Â other Â Â Â new Â movies. Â The Â easiest Â pattern Â to Â recognize Â is Â a Â detective Â identified Â mainly Â by Â the Â style Â of Â is Â work Â and Â the Â social Â class Â he Â belongs Â to. Â As Â for Â the Â criminals, Â it Â now Â seems Â that Â there Â is Â no Â established Â pattern Â but Â at Â least, Â as Â I Â mentioned Â above, Â combats Â between Â criminals Â and Â detectives Â usually Â depend Â on Â rules Â of Â relationships Â between Â social Â classes. Â Although Â patterns Â should Â work Â in Â majority Â of Â cases, Â none Â of Â them Â can Â be Â applied Â successfully Â on Â all Â examples. Â This Â is Â proved Â by Â Ăšnos Â Â„ÂƒÂ?Â?ÂąĂ˘Â‡ Â—ÂšÂ‡. Â Although Â it Â can Â be Â called Â as Â criminal Â genre Â movie, Â it Â is Â more Â parody Â on Â this Â type Â of Â movies Â than Â anything Â else. Â In Â none Â of Â screened Â movies Â were Â typical Â signs Â of Â characters Â co Â much Â exaggerated. Â But Â the Â question Â is Â why Â it Â was Â made Â so? Â At Â this Â point Â we Â can Â only Â speculate Â on Â it. Â Fredrick Â Jameson Â said Â in Â his Â study Â on Â postmodernism Â and Â imitation, Â the Â good Â parodist Â must Â have Â ÂŠÂ‹Â†Â†Â‡Â? ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‹Â?Â‰Â• Â‹Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Ç˛Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽÇłÇ¤ Â‹Â• Â•Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â?Â‡Â?Â– Â’ÂƒÂ”Â–ÂŽÂ› Â†Â‡Â•Â…Â”Â‹Â„Â‡Â• lÂ?Â‘Â• Â„ÂƒÂ?Â?ÂąĂ˘Â‡ Â—ÂšÂ‡. Â There Â was Â surely Â really Â strong Â influence Â of Â foreign Â movies Â but Â without Â knowing Â precise Â titles Â it Â can't Â be Â Â•Â—Â”Â‡ÂŽÂ› Â•ÂƒÂ‹Â† Â™ÂŠÂ‹Â…ÂŠ Â?Â‘Â˜Â‹Â‡Â• Â‹Â?ÂˆÂŽÂ—Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Â† ÂƒÂ”Â‡ÂŽ Â?Â–Â‘Â?ÇĄ ÂƒÂ”Â‡ÂŽÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂŤ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‹Â” Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â” Â…ÂœÂ‡Â…ÂŠ Â…Â‘ÂŽÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ‰Â—Â‡Â•Ç¤ Maybe Â traditions Â of Â detective Â genre Â was Â mixed Â with Â czech Â popular Â humour, Â which Â is Â often Â really Â ironic Â and Â sarcastic. Â This Â movie Â can Â be Â considered Â as Â an Â example Â of Â detective Â movie Â which Â was Â influenced Â by Â local Â circumstances Â and Â plays Â the Â role Â of Â something Â strange Â and Â different Â in Â its Â way Â of Â its Â genre. Â Â Differences Â between Â individual Â movies Â are Â most Â visible Â when Â some Â carefully Â chosen Â group Â of Â movies Â is Â screened Â during Â a Â short Â period Â of Â time, Â such Â as Â a Â festival Â retrospective, Â as Â the Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â cycle Â was. Â Such Â a Â grouping Â creates Â the Â best Â way Â to Â make Â these Â films Â easily Â available Â for Â Â’Â—Â„ÂŽÂ‹Â…Ç¤ Â–ÇŻÂ•Â‘Â„Â˜Â‹Â‘Â—Â•Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”Â›Â„Â‘Â†Â›Â?Â?Â‘Â™Â•ÂŠÂ‡Â”ÂŽÂ‘Â…Â?Â‘ÂŽÂ?Â‡Â•Â„Â—Â–Â™ÂŠÂƒÂ–ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â•ÇŤÂ‡Â”Â–ÂƒÂ‹Â?ÂŽÂ› less Â people Â know Â Doctor Â Fu Â Manchu Â and Â ever Â fewer Â know Â Czechoslovak Â movie Â lÂ?Â‘Â•Â„ÂƒÂ?Â?ÂąĂ˘Â‡ Â—ÂšÂ‡. Â Â In Â my Â opinion Â the Â main Â purpose Â of Â a Â retrospective Â with Â a Â concrete Â topic Â is Â to Â present Â the Â topic Â in Â as Â complex Â unit Â as Â it Â is Â possible. Â Only Â in Â this, Â we Â may Â note Â an Â analogy Â between, Â for Â instance, Â Sherlock Â Holmes Â and Â the Â Cannon Â revisited Â programmes. Â Thanks Â to Â this Â the Â spectator Â is Â allowed Â to Â see Â movies Â from Â various Â decades Â and Â countries Â and Â compare Â them Â with Â each Â other. Â So Â it Â is Â not Â 122 Â Â
only about watching movies but about seeing how they were changing in relation to the time and place where they were made in. Watching this process of changing is important if we want to understand how diverse cinema was and still is.
Ballets Russes and the Silent Cinema Jennifer Zale Throughout the history of Russian ballet many choreographers have attempted to create systems of notation in order to preserve choreography for future generations. Unfortunately, none of these proposed systems have succeeded in becoming a universal standard used on a wide scale. As a result, choreography has been passed down from generation to generation almost exclusively by word of mouth, causing works not consistently included in the repertoire to disappear into oblivion. Many ballets produced in Imperial Russia have succumbed to this fate due to the Imperial Theatǯ ǯ Ǥ refused to allow its artists to be filmed and created a rule forbidding them to do so. Failure to ǯ ial Theatres. (However, it should be noted that certain ballet stars, such is Vera Karalli, were excused from this rule, due to their vast popularity.) In prerevolutionary Russia the cinema was considered to be taboo, a dangerous rival to theatre and books, and a novelty belonging to the lower classes. It is regrettable that the administration regarded the cinema in such a negative light since the moving pictures could have served as a tool of dance preservation and notation. It is painful for dance scholars and choreographers to think of how many works could have been saved if film was allowed to be used in the Imperial Theatres during these early years. In making this statement it is important to point out the complicated relationship between dance and film in the opinion of ballet artists. Most dancers and ballet masters do not feel that film is an ideal way to preserve choreography as it is extremely difficult to learn balletic movement from the screen. Ballet steps are made up of tiny details and these details are often lost onscreen. The camera films dance as a whole in order to capture the picture that is seen by the audience. A ballet master, on the other hand, is more interested in analyzing individual movements of the fingers, torso, neck and so on. It is nearly impossible to capture all of these tiny movements simultaneously on film when the goal is to capture the dance as whole. However, if the ballets created in Imperial Russia had been filmed, future choreographers would have had something to go by during the restoration process. 124
While film is not the most ideal way in which to learn choreography, professionally trained dancers would be able to look at the overall dance in order to fairly accurately restore a work. The general movement style and costumes would give choreographers a peek into the ballet of the past, making restoration feasible. The Bolshoi Ballet dancer Vasiliy Tikhomirov (footage of him dancing with his prima ballerina wife was shown at the 2008 Le Giornate) was of this opinion. In a 1912 interview Tihkomirov admits that film should not be used as a general system of notation for ballet due to the reasons stated above. Nevertheless, he felt that dance should be filmed in order to be preserved for future generations, if only to be able to witness performances of the great dancers. He expressed regret that dance generally has not been filmed, giving the example of Maria Taglioni and what future artists would have gained if they had been able to glimpse her dance. (Cine-‐fono 15) Tikhomirov was not the only dancer of the time to share his opinion about the cinema. In a 1914 interview Anna Pavlova clearly expressed her dislike of the cinema. She almost never allowed herself to be filmed because she considered her dancing image on screen to be unflattering. The important details of her dance were lost according to her. The few times she allowed herself to be filmed she was very particular about the process, allowing herself to be filmed only from certain angles. Onscreen she would only perform smooth movements that were relatively stagnant and Ǥ ǯ Ǥ ͳͻͳͶǯǡNight, for the Berlin Literary Society that most likely has never been found. It probably was rarely shown to begin with, due to stipulations put on it by Pavlova herself. When she made the film, the contract stated that the footage could be shown only occasionally under very particular circumstances. (Vestnik kinematografa 23) In a 1916 publication there is a small advertisement consisting of only a few sentences about a future appearance of Pavlova onscreen. (Zhivoy ekran 31) However, what exactly Pavlova was to dance was not stated and further information about this event is yet to be found. The Pavlova films presented at Le Giornate 2008 and 2009 were filmed in 1924 in ǯ The Thief of Baghdad. This is the only known existing footage ǯ Ǥ ǡ remember that they were not filmed at the prime of her career. Her early 20th century performances are left to our imagination as well as to photographs. 125
Â The Â relationship Â between Â film Â and Â ballet Â is Â certainly Â a Â fascinating Â one. Â Both Â the Â 2008 Â and Â 2009 Â seasons Â of Â Le Â Giornate Â have Â served Â as Â a Â scholarly Â setting Â for Â further Â exploring Â this Â intriguing Â topic Â Â•Â‘ Â‹Â?Â’Â‘Â”Â–ÂƒÂ?Â– Â–Â‘ Â„Â‘Â–ÂŠ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ? ÂƒÂ?Â† Â†ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ ÂŠÂ‹Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â›Ç¤ ÂŠÂ‡ Í´Í˛Í˛Íş ÂˆÂ‡Â•Â–Â‹Â˜ÂƒÂŽÇŻÂ• Â•howcase Â include Â Alexander Â ÂŠÂ‹Â”Â›ÂƒÂ‡Â˜ÇŻÂ• Â‡ÂƒÂ”ÂŽÂ› ÂˆÂ‘Â‘Â–ÂƒÂ‰Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â†ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â”Â• Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â—Â•Â•Â‹ÂƒÂ? Â?Â’Â‡Â”Â‹ÂƒÂŽ ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â– ÂƒÂ?Â† ÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇĄ Â‘ÂŽÂ•ÂŠÂ‘Â‹ ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â– Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â• ÂƒÂ•Â‹ÂŽÂ‹Â› Â‹Â?ÂŠÂ‘Â?Â‹Â”Â‘Â˜ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â?ÂƒÂ–Â‡Â”Â‹Â?Âƒ Â‡ÂŽÂ–Â•Â‡Â”ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÍłÍťÍ´Íś ÂƒÂ˜ÂŽÂ‘Â˜Âƒ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•ÇĄ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â‡Â”Âƒ ÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‹ÇŻÂ• Â’Â‡Â”ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â‘ÂˆÂ‹Â?ÂŠÂƒÂ‹ÂŽ Â‘Â?Â‹Â?Â‡ÇŻÂ•Dying Â Swan Â Â‹Â?Â˜Â‰Â‡Â?Â‹Â›ÂƒÂ—Â‡Â”ÇŻÂ•ÍłÍťÍłÍšÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â•ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‡Ç¤Č‹ Â–Â‹Â• Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‹Â?Â‰ Â–Â‘ Â?Â‘Â–Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– ÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‹ÇŻÂ• Â˜ÂƒÂ”Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‹Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â• ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ? Â•Â‹Â‰Â?Â‹ÂˆÂ‹Â…ÂƒÂ?Â–ÂŽÂ› Â†Â‹ÂˆÂˆÂ‡Â”Â• ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â? Â‘Â?Â‹Â?Â‡ÇŻÂ• Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽ choreography. Â Stylistic Â traits Â unique Â to Â Alexandre Â Gorsky, Â with Â whom Â Karalli Â studied, Â can Â be Â found Â Â‹Â? ÂŠÂ‡Â” Â’Â‡Â”ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Ç¤ČŒ ÂŠÂ‹Â• Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â™Â…ÂƒÂ•Â‡ Â…Â‘Â?Â–Â‹Â?Â—Â‡Â† Â‹Â? Í´Í˛Í˛Íť Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‡Â•Â–Â‹Â˜ÂƒÂŽÇŻÂ• ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â–Â• Â—Â•Â•Â‡Â• program Â which Â included Â footage Â of Â Tamara Â Karsavina, Â Alexandra Â Baldina, Â Fedyor Â Kozlov Â and Â Anna Â Pavlova. Â Â Each Â of Â these Â dancers Â in Â some Â capacity Â participated Â in Â Sergei Â DÂ‹ÂƒÂ‰ÂŠÂ‹ÂŽÂ‡Â˜ÇŻÂ• ÂˆÂ‹Â”Â•Â– Â—Â•Â•Â‹ÂƒÂ? Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‘Â?Â• Â„ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â– Â’Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ? Â‹Â? ÂƒÂ”Â‹Â• Â‹Â? ÍłÍťÍ˛ÍťÇ¤ Â‘Â™Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”ÇĄ Â‹ÂƒÂ‰ÂŠÂ‹ÂŽÂ‡Â˜ÇŻÂ• Â†ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â”Â• Â…ÂƒÂ? ÂƒÂŽÂ•Â‘ Â„Â‡ ÂˆÂ‘Â—Â?Â† Â‘Â—Â–Â•Â‹Â†Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‡Â•Â–Â‹Â˜ÂƒÂŽÇŻÂ•ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â–Â•Â—Â•Â•Â‡Â• Â’Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?Ç¤Â‡Â”ÂƒÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‹Â…ÂƒÂ?Â„Â‡ ÂˆÂ‘Â—Â?Â†Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂŽÂ„ÂƒÂ–Â”Â‘Â•Â’Â”Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂ• Âƒ Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”Â‘Âˆ the Â 1919 Â French Â film Â La Â Nuit Â Du Â 11 Â Septembre. Â By Â the Â time Â this Â movie Â was Â made, Â Karalli Â was Â ÂƒÂŽÂ”Â‡ÂƒÂ†Â›ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â•Â–ÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‹Â•ÂŠÂ‡Â†ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•Â–ÂƒÂ”ÇĄÂ„Â—Â–Â‹Â?ÍłÍťÍ˛ÍťÂ•ÂŠÂ‡Â†ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â†Â‹Â?Â‹ÂƒÂ‰ÂŠÂ‹ÂŽÂ‡Â˜ÇŻÂ•Â–Â”Â‘Â—Â’Â‡Â‹Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ†Â”Â‘ÂŽÂ‡Â‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡ ballet Â ÂƒÂ˜Â‹ÂŽÂ‹Â‘Â?Â†ÇŻÂ”Â?Â‹Â†Â‡Ç¤She Â shared Â this Â role Â with Â Tamara Â Karsavina. Â Â Â Â The Â discovery Â and Â restoration Â of Â these Â rare Â films Â raise Â questions Â in Â the Â minds Â of Â dance Â historians. Â As Â is Â often Â the Â case Â in Â silent Â film, Â scholars Â must Â use Â the Â few Â clues Â they Â have Â in Â order Â to Â make Â accurate Â assumptions Â about Â music Â and Â origins Â of Â the Â dances. Â When Â the Â recovered Â information Â is Â limited, Â the Â scholar Â is Â forced Â to Â make Â the Â difficult Â choice Â of Â presenting Â the Â dance Â in Â the Â incomplete Â ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â? Â‹Â– Â™ÂƒÂ• ÂˆÂ‘Â—Â?Â† Â‘Â” Â–Â‘ Â—Â•Â‡ Â‘Â?Â‡ÇŻÂ• Â‹Â?Â–Â—Â‹Â–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‹Â? Â‘Â”Â†Â‡Â” Â–Â‘ Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â”Â‡Â?Â?ÂƒÂ?Â–Â• Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â†ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ Â‹Â?Â–Â‘ Âƒ theatrically Â presentable Â production. Â This Â is Â an Â ethical Â question Â that Â arises Â in Â both Â film Â and Â dance Â restoration Â to Â which Â there Â is Â no Â easy Â answer. Â Also, Â this Â question Â must Â be Â considered Â differently Â depending Â on Â the Â discipline. Â When Â talking Â about Â silent Â film, Â it Â can Â be Â very Â beneficial Â to Â restore Â and Â present Â an Â incomplete Â film Â for Â the Â benefit Â of Â the Â study Â of Â film Â scholars. Â When Â it Â comes Â to Â ballet, Â however, Â it Â would Â be Â very Â difficult Â to Â recruit Â audiences Â (other Â than Â ballet Â scholars) Â to Â sit Â through Â incomplete Â ballets Â for Â the Â sake Â of Â staying Â true Â to Â the Â original. Â There Â have Â been Â successful Â attempts Â Â‘Âˆ Â”Â‡Â•Â–Â‘Â”Â‹Â?Â‰ Â‹ÂƒÂ‰ÂŠÂ‹ÂŽÂ‡Â˜ÇŻÂ• Â‡ÂƒÂ”ÂŽÂ› Â„ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â–Â• Â‡Â˜Â‡Â? Â‹Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â…ÂŠÂ‘Â”Â‡Â‘Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ’ÂŠÂ› Â•Â–Â”ÂƒÂ›Â‡Â† ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽÇ¤ Â‘Â” 126 Â Â
Â Â‡ÂšÂƒÂ?Â’ÂŽÂ‡ÇĄ Â‹Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÍłÍťÍşÍ˛ÇŻÂ• Â?Â‡Â”Â‹Â…ÂƒÂ? Â†ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ Â•Â…ÂŠÂ‘ÂŽÂƒÂ” Â‹ÂŽÂŽÂ‹Â…Â‡Â?Â– Â‘Â†Â•Â‘Â? Â…Â‘Â?Â’ÂŽÂ‡Â–Â‡Â† Âƒ Â†Â‹Â•Â•Â‡Â”Â–ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? ÂƒÂ– Berkeley Â in Â which Â she Â thoroÂ—Â‰ÂŠÂŽÂ› Â”Â‡Â•Â‡ÂƒÂ”Â…ÂŠÂ‡Â† ÂƒÂ•ÂŽÂƒÂ˜ Â‹ÂœÂŠÂ‹Â?Â•Â?Â›ÇŻÂ• Rite Â of Â Spring. Â Her Â dissertation Â Â™ÂƒÂ•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â„ÂƒÂ•Â‹Â•ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘ÂˆÂˆÂ”Â‡Â›ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â–ÇŻÂ•Â”Â‡Â˜Â‹Â˜ÂƒÂŽÂ‘ÂˆÂ–ÂŠÂ‡Â’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Ç¤Â‘Â†Â•Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂŽÂ›ÂœÂ‡Â†Â‡Â˜Â‡Â”Â›Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â‰ÂˆÂ”Â‘Â? costume Â sketches Â to Â choreographic Â sequences Â notated Â on Â paper. Â (Garafola Â 66-Ââ€?67) Â While Â she Â gathered Â the Â best Â information Â to Â resurrect Â this Â ballet, Â there Â were Â naturally Â still Â many Â pieces Â of Â the Â Â’Â—ÂœÂœÂŽÂ‡ Â?Â‹Â•Â•Â‹Â?Â‰Ç¤ Â‘ Â–ÂŠÂ‹Â?Â? Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‘ÂˆÂˆÂ”Â‡Â›ÇŻÂ• Â’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â? Â™ÂƒÂ• Â?Â‘Â”Â‡ Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ? Âƒ Â˜ÂƒÂ”Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? Â‘Â? Âƒ Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â‹ÂœÂŠÂ‹Â?Â•Â?Â›ÇŻÂ• ÍłÍťÍłÍ´ Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽ Â’Â”Â‘Â†Â—Â…Â–Â‹Â‘Â? Â™Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ† Â„Â‡ Â—Â?Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‘Â?ÂƒÂ„ÂŽÂ‡Ç¤ Â Â? ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â–ÇĄ Â‹ÂœÂŠÂ‹Â?Â•Â?Â›ÇŻÂ• Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽ choreography Â was Â performed Â only Â a Â few Â times Â in Â comparison Â with Â the Â numerous Â revivals Â of Â the Â ballet Â that Â occurred Â throughout Â the Â years. Â Â Â The Â 1909 Â films Â of Â Tamara Â Karsavina, Â Fydor Â Kozlov Â and Â Alexandra Â Baldina Â are Â certainly Â treasures Â of Â ballet Â history Â and Â have Â the Â potential Â to Â aid Â dance Â historians Â and Â ballet Â masters Â in Â resurrecting Â the Â lost Â ballets Â of Â the Â past. Â The Â short Â film Â of Â Karsavina, Â La Â Danse Â du Â Flambeau, Â is Â especially Â interesting Â because Â it Â gives Â ballet Â historians Â a Â glimpÂ•Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â‹ÂƒÂ‰ÂŠÂ‹ÂŽÂ‡Â˜ÇŻÂ• ÂŽÂ‡Â‰Â‡Â?Â†ÂƒÂ”Â› Â’Â”Â‹Â?Âƒ Â„ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â”Â‹Â?Âƒ early Â in Â her Â career. Â It Â is Â arguable Â that Â Diaghilev Â considered Â Karsavina Â to Â be Â his Â favorite Â female Â dancer Â who Â remained Â a Â constant Â in Â his Â troupe Â for Â a Â significant Â period Â of Â time. Â In Â her Â Russian Â language Â memoirs, Â Karsavina Â describes Â her Â relationship Â with Â Diaghilev Â as Â paternal, Â with Â Diaghilev Â often Â catering Â to Â her Â whims Â and Â chastising Â others Â for Â offending Â her. Â (Kasavina Â 219) Â Other Â film Â footage Â of Â Karsavina Â does Â exist Â but Â it Â was Â filmed Â much Â later Â in Â her Â career, Â dating Â back Â to Â the Â ÍłÍťÍ´Í˛ÇŻÂ•Ç¤ ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â• ÂƒÂ”Â‡ ÂˆÂƒÂ‹Â”ÂŽÂ› Â™Â‹Â†Â‡Â•Â’Â”Â‡ÂƒÂ† Â‹Â? Â—Â•Â•Â‹Âƒ ÂƒÂ?Â† Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â› Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â™ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â†ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â” Â’Â‡Â”ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â?Â‹Â?Â‰ Â„ÂƒÂ”Â”Â‡ and Â center Â work Â in Â the Â classroom. Â Â Â In Â La Â Danse Â du Â Flambeau Â Karsavina Â dances Â an Â allegro Â in Â which Â she Â often Â marches Â bouree Â style Â en Â Â’Â‘Â‹Â?Â–Â‡Â•Ç¤ Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â’Â‹Â?Â‹Â‘Â?Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂˆÂ‘Â”Â?Â‡Â”Â„ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â–Â†ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â”ÇĄ Â™Â‘Â—ÂŽÂ†ÂŠÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â–Â‘Â•ÂƒÂ›Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ–Â–ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ”Â•ÂƒÂ˜Â‹Â?ÂƒÇŻÂ•Â†ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ movement Â in Â the Â film Â did Â not Â completely Â coincide Â with Â the Â chosen Â music Â from Â Anton Â ArensÂ?Â›ÇŻÂ• Ç˛Â‰Â›Â’Â–Â‹ÂƒÂ? Â‹Â‰ÂŠÂ–Â•Ç¤Çł When Â dancers Â watch Â ballet Â they Â naturally Â follow Â the Â steps Â in Â a Â way Â that Â is Â impossible Â for Â the Â viewer Â without Â ballet Â training. Â This Â is Â probably Â similar Â to Â the Â way Â in Â which Â a Â musician Â would Â listen Â to Â a Â symphony Â versus Â a Â spectator Â without Â a Â musically Â trained Â ear. Â When Â I Â Â™ÂƒÂ–Â…ÂŠÂ‡Â† ÂƒÂ”Â•ÂƒÂ˜Â‹Â?ÂƒÇŻÂ• Â„Â”Â‹Â‡Âˆ Â˜ÂƒÂ”Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?ÇĄ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂŽÂ‘Â™ Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â•Â–Â‡Â’Â• Â•Â‡Â‡Â?Â‡Â† Â–Â‘ Â„Â‡ Â„Â”Â‘Â?Â‡Â? Â„Â› Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â—Â•Â‹Â…ÇĄ interfering Â with Â my Â concentration Â in Â following Â the Â choreography. Â There Â are Â a Â few Â reasons Â why Â this Â phenomenon Â could Â have Â occurred. Â To Â the Â best Â of Â my Â ability Â and Â memory, Â I Â described Â 127 Â Â
Â ÂƒÂ”Â•ÂƒÂ˜Â‹Â?ÂƒÇŻÂ• Â˜ÂƒÂ”Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â? ÂƒÂ?Â† Â?Â› Â‘Â’Â‹Â?Â‹Â‘Â? ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â– Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â?Â—Â•Â‹Â… Â–Â‘ ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â?Â‡Â” ÂƒÂŽÂ‹Â› ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â– ÂŠÂ‡ÂƒÂ–Â”Â‡ Č‹Â–Ç¤ Petersburg, Â Russia) Â soloist Â Zhanna Â Dubrovskaya. Â Dubrovskaya, Â who Â trained Â at Â the Â same Â school Â as Â Karsavina Â (The Â Imperial Â Ballet Â School Â in Â St. Â Petersburg Â was Â later Â renamed Â the Â Vaganova Â School), Â felt Â that Â my Â feeling Â regarding Â the Â music Â could Â be Â due Â to Â nothing Â more Â than Â the Â speed Â of Â the Â film Â which Â does Â not Â exactly Â coincide Â with Â the Â way Â the Â variation Â would Â have Â been Â performed Â in Â the Â theatre. Â However, Â it Â is Â impossible Â to Â make Â a Â completely Â accurate Â observation Â of Â this Â film Â without Â seeing Â it Â firsthand. Â It Â is Â important Â to Â remember Â that Â Egyptian Â Nights Â was Â actually Â the Â precursor Â to Â Â‹Â?ÂŠÂƒÂ‹ÂŽ Â‘Â?Â‹Â?Â‡ÇŻÂ• ÂŽÂƒÂ–Â‡Â” Â„ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â– Cleopatra. Â The Â ballet Â was Â revamped Â and Â renamed Â Cleopatra Â for Â the Â 1909 Â Ballets Â Russes Â season. Â (Garafola Â 43) Â Â For Â this Â reason Â it Â would Â be Â interesting Â to Â learn Â the Â opinions Â of Â Russian Â ballet Â masters Â who Â might Â have Â inside Â information Â about Â the Â similarities Â and Â differences Â betweÂ‡Â?Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â‡Â–Â™Â‘Â„ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â–Â•ÇĄÂƒÂ?Â†Â‹Â?Â–Â—Â”Â?Â…ÂŽÂ—Â‡Â•ÂƒÂ„Â‘Â—Â–Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?Â•Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂ”Â•ÂƒÂ˜Â‹Â?ÂƒÇŻÂ•Â˜ÂƒÂ”Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Ç¤ ÂŠÂ‹ÂŽÂ‡ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂƒÂ…Â– Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– Â‡Â‘Â? ÂƒÂ?Â•Â–ÇŻÂ• Â‘Â”Â‹Â‰Â‹Â?ÂƒÂŽ Â†Â‡Â•Â‹Â‰Â? ÂˆÂ‘Â” ÂƒÂ”Â•ÂƒÂ˜Â‹Â?ÂƒÇŻÂ• Â…Â‘Â•Â–Â—Â?Â‡ Â•Â–Â‹ÂŽÂŽ Â‡ÂšÂ‹Â•Â–Â•ÇĄ Â‹Â– Â•ÂŠÂ‘Â—ÂŽÂ† Â„Â‡ kept Â in Â mind Â that Â the Â costume Â could Â have Â been Â used Â for Â either Â of Â these Â two Â ballets Â as Â well Â as Â for Â Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â” Â†Â‹Â˜Â‡Â”Â–Â‹Â•Â•Â‡Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â• Â‘Â? Âƒ Â•Â‹Â?Â‹ÂŽÂƒÂ” Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â?Â‡Ç¤ Â—Â”Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â?Â‘Â”Â‡ÇĄ Â‹Â? ÂƒÂ”Â•ÂƒÂ˜Â‹Â?ÂƒÇŻÂ• Â?Â‡Â?Â‘Â‹Â”Â•ÇĄ Â•ÂŠÂ‡ Â?ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â• Â?Â‘ mention Â of Â performing Â this Â variation Â at Â a Â party Â as Â has Â been Â thought. Â Throughout Â her Â memoirs Â she Â carefully Â describes Â such Â events Â and Â even Â writes Â about Â an Â outdoor Â party Â given Â by Â Madame Â Maurice Â Â’ÂŠÂ”Â—Â•Â•Â‹ ÂƒÂ– Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‡Â?Â† Â‘Âˆ Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÍłÍťÍ˛Íť Â•Â‡ÂƒÂ•Â‘Â? Â‹Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â†ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡Â”ÇŻÂ• ÂŠÂ‘Â?Â‘Â”Ç¤ Â? Â–ÂŠÂ‡ ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ? ÂƒÂ”Â•ÂƒÂ˜Â‹Â?Âƒ Â‹Â• Â…ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ”ÂŽÂ› dancing Â indoors; Â therefore, Â it Â is Â improbable Â that Â the Â variation Â was Â recorded Â at Â this Â event. Â (Karsavina Â 218, Â 304) Â Â Â Â Â This Â being Â said, Â it Â is Â imperative Â that Â ballet Â masters Â and Â dancers Â are Â given Â the Â opportunity Â to Â ÂƒÂ?ÂƒÂŽÂ›ÂœÂ‡Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â•Â‡Â”Â‡Â…Â‡Â?Â–ÂŽÂ›Â†Â‹Â•Â…Â‘Â˜Â‡Â”Â‡Â†ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?Â•Ç¤ÂŠÂ‡Â‰Â”ÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â‡Â”Â”Â‘Â”Â‘ÂˆÂ?Â‹Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â‡Â?ÂŽÂ›Â—Â•Â‹Â?Â‰Â…ÂŠÂƒÂ‹Â?Â‘Â˜Â•Â?Â›ÇŻÂ•Â?Â—Â•Â‹Â… from Â Swan Â Lake Â instead Â of Â Saint-Ââ€?SaËŠÂ?Â•Â•Â…Â‘Â”Â‡Â†Â—Â”Â‹Â?Â‰Â‡Â”ÂƒÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‹ÇŻÂ•Â˜ÂƒÂ”Â‹ÂƒÂ–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‹Â?Â˜Â‰Â‡Â?Â‹Â›ÂƒÂ—Â‡Â”ÇŻÂ•ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ? The Â Dying Â Swan Â clearly Â illustrates Â the Â need Â for Â this Â kind Â of Â cooperation. Â Besides Â the Â music, Â dance Â specialists Â would Â be Â in Â an Â opportune Â position Â to Â make Â observations Â about Â the Â choreography, Â dance Â style Â and Â ballet Â technique Â that Â only Â a Â professional Â dancer Â could Â make. Â Also, Â dance Â professionals Â would Â be Â interested Â in Â elements Â probably Â not Â as Â important Â to Â film Â scholars Â such Â as Â details Â that Â would Â allow Â them Â to Â restore Â a Â ballet Â or Â make Â them Â rethink Â assumptions Â made Â about Â technique Â at Â the Â time. Â For Â example, Â when Â watching Â the Â films Â of Â Karsavina, Â Kozlov, Â Baladina, Â Pavlova, Â Geltzer Â and Â Tikhomirov, Â it Â is Â interesting Â to Â follow Â the Â transformation Â of Â ballet Â technique Â throughout Â the Â years. Â Even Â though Â Karsavina Â and Â Geltser Â were Â prima Â ballerinas Â of Â their Â time, Â their Â 128 Â Â
technique could in no way rival the technique of present day Mariinsky and Bolshoi ballerinas. In comparison their steps are choppier, extensions not fully developed, turn out weaker, and their dancing sometimes comes across as more athletic than graceful. The physical appearance of early 20th ǯ Ǥ ǯ ǡ ng from training under a system of imperfective technique. While Karsavina does not fit this description, Geltzer, arguably the most revered dancer of her day, (with the exception of only Pavlova), most definitely does. After making the above statements about the evolution of ballet technique recorded on film, it is important to point out that Pavlova was an exception to this observation. Her technique in The Dying Swan, Orientale Dance, La Rose Mourante, Columbine variation and Fairy Doll is much closer to modern technique than that of her contemporaries. She possesses solid technique and the long limbs associated with Vaganova technique well before it was established as the Russian school of ͳͻ͵ͲǯǤ system of pedagogy, ballet technique in Russia was a melting pot of different styles, schools and techniques. Therefore, ballet technique was greatly improved and revolutionized after the Vaganova Method was established. As shown by the Pavlova films, the ballerina possessed a natural gift for dance that allowed her to move gracefully as if it were second-‐nature. The second piece of the 2009 Le Giornate program, Pas de deux et Soli, consisted of the pas de deux, Valse Caprice, performed by Fyodor Kozlov and Alexandra Baldina. While Kozlov was a dancer from a prominent Moscow ballet family who went on to make a film career in Hollywood, Baldina is a forgotten Imperial ballerina. In chronicles of ballet history written in the West, ǯlways omitted. Even in works written in Russia, Baldina is usually not listed with the most prominent Imperial ballerinas such as Pavlova, Geltzer, Preobrozhenska, Karsavina, Balashova, Kshesinska and Lopokova. It is probable that her status had more to do with her marriage to Kozlov than talent. Despite this supposition, it is nevertheless very interesting to have the opportunity to witness the ballerina on film. While it is difficult to judge a dancer based on one pas de deux, I feel it would be fair to say that she possessed solid technique in comparison to other dancers of her time, even if her dancing did lack the spark present in that of Pavlova and Geltzer. 129
Â Another Â reason Â why Â Baldina Â was Â forgotten Â by Â Soviet Â critics Â and Â historians Â is Â due Â to Â her Â immigration Â to Â America. Â It Â was Â common Â practice Â in Â the Â Soviet Â Union Â for Â critics Â to Â write Â negatively Â about Â artists Â who Â had Â defected Â or Â to Â omit Â them Â altogether. Â Another Â example Â of Â this Â tendency Â occurred Â with Â Vera Â Karalli Â who Â also Â immigrated Â before Â the Â fall Â of Â the Â Russian Â empire. Â She Â is Â usually Â not Â considered Â to Â be Â of Â the Â caliber Â of Â other Â leading Â ballerinas Â of Â her Â time, Â and Â her Â technique Â has Â been Â criticized Â by Â Tamara Â Karsavina Â (Karsavina Â 206) Â and Â the Â prestigious Â Soviet Â ballet Â critic Â Vera Â Krasovskaya Â (Krasovskaya Â 182) Â (who Â could Â not Â have Â seen Â the Â ballerina Â dance Â Â‘Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ?Â‹Â?ÂƒÂ—Â‡Â”ÇŻÂ•ÂˆÂ‹ÂŽÂ?The Â Dying Â Swan). Â ÂŠÂ‹Â•ÂŠÂƒÂ”Â•ÂŠÂ…Â”Â‹Â–Â‹Â…Â‹Â•Â?Â‘ÂˆÂƒÂ”ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‹ÇŻÂ•Â–Â‡Â…ÂŠÂ?Â‹Â“Â—Â‡Â•Â‹Â?Â’ÂŽÂ›Â†Â‘Â‡Â• Â?Â‘Â–Â…Â‘Â‹Â?Â…Â‹Â†Â‡Â™Â‹Â–ÂŠÂŽÂ‡ÂšÂƒÂ?Â†Â‡Â” Â‘Â”Â•Â?Â›ÇŻÂ•Â†Â‡Â…Â‹Â•Â‹Â‘Â?Â–Â‘Â…ÂƒÂ•Â–ÂŠÂ‡Â”Â‹Â?ÂŽÂ‡ÂƒÂ†Â‹Â?Â‰Â”Â‘ÂŽÂ‡Â•ÂƒÂ–ÂƒÂ˜Â‡Â”Â›Â›Â‘Â—Â?Â‰ÂƒÂ‰Â‡ÂƒÂ?Â† her Â success Â and Â popularity Â with Â the Â Bolshoi Â Theatre. Â After Â all, Â it Â was Â her Â achievement Â in Â ballet Â that Â paved Â the Â way Â for Â her Â to Â become Â one Â of Â the Â most Â popular Â Russian Â silent Â film Â stars. Â The Â first Â book Â ever Â written Â about Â Karalli, Â Vera Â Karalli Â Legend Â of Â the Â Russian Â Ballet Â by Â Gennady Â Kagan, Â was Â published Â in Â 2009 Â in Â the Â Russian Â language. Â Â Â Â Â Â As Â noted Â earlier, Â Kozlov Â made Â the Â transition Â from Â the Â dancing Â world Â of Â Imperial Â Russia Â to Â an Â acting Â career Â in Â Hollywood. Â While Â his Â film Â career Â was Â short Â lived Â due Â to Â the Â introduction Â of Â sound, Â his Â performance Â onscreen Â earned Â him Â a Â decent Â reputation Â as Â a Â film Â actor Â in Â Russia. Â A Â 1925 Â article Â from Â a Â Soviet Â film Â magazine, Â Soviet Â Screen, Â commends Â Kozlov Â for Â his Â plasticity Â in Â films Â and Â his Â influence Â on Â dance Â and Â movement Â in Â Hollywood Â films. Â Č‹Â„Â”ÂƒÂ?Â‘Â˜ ÍľÍşČŒ ÂŽÂ•Â‘ÇĄ ÂŽÂŽÂƒ ÂƒÂœÂ‹Â?Â‘Â˜ÂƒÇŻÂ• performance Â in Â the Â film Â Solome Â may Â indirectly Â have Â been Â influenced Â by Â Kozlov. Â Nazimova Â worked Â with Â and Â was Â greatly Â influenced Â by Â Natasha Â Rambova Â (born Â Winifred Â Shaughnessy) Â who Â worked Â with Â Kozlov Â during Â the Â period Â of Â their Â four Â year-Ââ€?long Â affair. Â In Â Soviet Â film Â periodicals Â it Â has Â been Â Â?Â‡Â?Â–Â‹Â‘Â?Â‡Â† Â–ÂŠÂƒÂ– ÂƒÂœÂ‹Â?Â‘Â˜ÂƒÇŻÂ• Â’Â‡Â”ÂˆÂ‘Â”Â?ÂƒÂ?Â…Â‡ Â•Â‡Â‡Â?Â• Â–Â‘ Â„Â‡ Â—Â?Â†Â‡Â” Â–ÂŠÂ‡ Â‹Â?ÂˆÂŽÂ—Â‡Â?Â…Â‡ Â‘Âˆ Â?Â‘Â†Â‡Â”Â? Â„ÂƒÂŽÂŽÂ‡Â– tendencies Â that Â were Â developed Â in Â early Â 20th Â century Â Russia. Â (Abramov Â 38) Â The Â styles Â of Â Fokine Â and Â Kasian Â Goleizovsky, Â another Â innovative Â ballet Â master Â who Â challenged Â the Â classical Â academic Â Â•Â–ÂƒÂ?Â†ÂƒÂ”Â†ÇĄÂ?Â‘Â•Â–ÂŽÂ‹Â?Â‡ÂŽÂ›Â™Â‡Â”Â‡Â’Â”Â‡Â•Â‡Â?Â–Â‹Â?ÂƒÂœÂ‹Â?Â‘Â˜ÂƒÇŻÂ•Â™Â‘Â”Â?Â†Â—Â‡Â–Â‘Â‘ÂœÂŽÂ‘Â˜ÇŻÂ•Â‹Â?ÂˆÂŽÂ—Â‡Â?Â…Â‡Ç¤ Â In Â Valse Â Caprice, Â which Â was Â composed Â by Â Anton Â Rubinstein Â and Â choreographed Â by Â Nikolai Â Legat, Â Kozlov Â and Â Baldina Â dance Â a Â pas Â de Â deux Â which Â appears Â to Â be Â incomplete. Â A Â pas Â de Â deux Â always Â consists Â of Â the Â following Â elements: Â prologue Â (both Â dancers Â onstage), Â two Â solos Â (one Â for Â each Â dancer), Â and Â the Â coda Â (both Â dancers Â on Â stage.) Â In Â the Â film Â the Â coda Â is Â absent Â and Â the Â film Â ends Â with Â the Â solos. Â Another Â problem Â exists Â in Â the Â fact Â that Â the Â solos Â have Â not Â yet Â been Â identified. Â If Â the Â 130 Â Â
entire pas de deux has already been identified as Valse Caprice, then naturally the two solos should belong to this same pas de deux. Of course, ballet masters have been known to incorporate choreography from one ballet into another. For example, the same Cupid and Yellow Canary variations appear in both Sleeping Beauty and Don Quixote. Besides ballet masters playing around with the choreography, it is also possible that different variations were put together specifically for this film. Again, this film illustrates the need for film scholars and ballet masters to work together in order to make the most accurate conclusions about dance preserved on film. The relationship between silent film and the Russian Imperial ballet is as mysterious as it is interesting. Film not only served as a way to preserve the artistry of legendary dancers and choreographers, but also allowed some ballet dancers, for instance Karalli and Kozlov, to make the transition from ballet into a completely new medium. Artists like Karalli brought their ballet skill to the cinema in order to help create the first acting style of the Russian silent cinema. In addition to being valuable documents to film historians, early dance films have the potential to aid ballet masters in the restoration of lost ballets. They also are important for helping dance historians to better understand the dance styles and traditions of the past, along with their transitions. The complete value of these films will be realized only when film scholars and dance specialists come together to draw conclusions that could not be drawn by scholars in only one field. It is my hope that more dance films of this period will be discovered in the future, and that the study of this topic will bring together scholars from these two remarkable art forms of the past. Works Cited Abramov, Al. «Dance and Film». Sovetskiy ekran 28 (1925): 38. «Anna Pavlova Onscreen». Zhivoy ekran 21 (1916): 31. Dubrovskaya, Zhanna. Personal interview. 22 Jan. 2010. Garafola, Lynn. ǯǤǣǲǡǳͳͻͻͺǤ Karsavina, Tamara. Theatre Street Memoirs. Moscow: «Tsentrpoligraf», 2004. Krasovskaya, Vera. The History of Russian Ballet. Moscow: «Planeta muziyki», 2008. «Pavlova and the Cinematograph». Vestnik kinematografii 92 (1914): 23. «Bringing the Cinematograph into the Imperial Ballet». Cine-‐fono 15 (1912): 17. 131
The Collegium is designed to utilise the unique conditions of the "Giornate del Cinema Muto - Pordenone Silent Film Festival" in Pordenone,...