1933: Das Testament des Dr. Mabuse (Fritz Lang)

1933: Das Testament des Dr. Mabuse (Fritz Lang)

I'll start by saying that of all my top picks, this is absolutely one of the most tenuous.  I like this Lang film, but there are probably another seven or eight by him that I like even better (The Big Heat, Metropolis, M, Beyond a Reasonable Doubt, Moonfleet, The Woman in the Window, You Only Live Once, and Destiny).  And I still have some Lang films to see.

My pick has a lot to do with 1933 being a slightly less stellar year, and admittedly I still have some major gaps to fill.

I first saw Mabuse at a great place that used to be in Paris called the "Videotheque de Paris".  It was a film library that also had one fantastic theater.  I'm not sure why it closed, but I had several very memorable nights there.  I saw Claire Denis present a screening of her film J'ai pas sommeil, and it was there that I saw a favorite of mine, Rossellini's Germany Year Zero, for the first time.  

Anyway, as I remember it, the thing that most impressed me with this film was Lang's extraordinary inventiveness.  I remember watching it and being in awe of all that he was doing for such an early film.  It has a fairly complex narrative for a film of this era and just felt formally years ahead of other films I had seen from this period.  I believe I've only seen it once so it is a bit vague in my memory.  But I remember it having a terrific finale, as well, if I'm not mistaken.

Other contenders for 1933:  My  inspiration for doing these posts, Dave Hicks, has a film at the top of his list for this year that I've never seen.  That film, The Bitter Tea of General Yen, is something I want to see as soon as possible.  Other films I still need to see from this year are:  Howard Hawks' Today We Live, Merian Cooper and Ernest Schoedsack's King Kong (embarrassed but I've never seen it in its entirety), Alfred Green's Baby Face, Mervyn LeRoy's Gold Diggers of 1933, and Frank Borzage's A Man's Castle.  Of the films I've seen from this year, I remember Max Ophuls' Liebelei having some of the greatest woods and snow cinematography in the history of film.  And, I love Duck Soup.  It's one of the funniest films I've ever seen.  I ultimately though decided to give the edge to the Lang film for its sheer formal innovation.


5/15/10 I watched Merian Cooper and Ernest Schoedsack's King Kong. There are some tremendous moments, particularly the unveiling of Kong at the New York theater.  But some of the action scenes in the jungle went on too long for me and didn't really maximize the suspense. An incredibly impressive accomplishment though for its time.


5/24/10 I watched Mervyn LeRoy's Gold Diggers of 1933.  Some of the dance sequences are absolutely mind-blowing.  But much of the story in between felt a little heavy-handed to me and didn't move me as much as I would like.  Busby Berkeley's work though is really something to see.  


9/13/10 I watched Howard Hawks' Air Force.  Hawks definitely demonstrates a love and knowledge for the material, but I find this to be one of his more overlong pieces.  Some wonderful moments, and an extraordinary performance from Harry Carey, but still a little underwhelming, relative to some of his better work.


2/25/12 I watched Ernst Lubitsch's Design for Living.  One of the very strongest of all the Lubitsch films that I've seen and probably the clearest display of the famous "Lubitsch touch".  Lubitsch had this ability to go from mania to pathos almost within the same shot.  Bold, sexy, and probably a major influence on Jules and Jim, as well as the entire French New Wave.


2/26/12 I watched Lloyd Bacon's 42nd Street.  A loose, free-form musical with loads of energy and insight into the behind-the-scenes world of theater.  Most memorable for its passion.  The grace and personality of the best Astaire pics though resonate more with me.  

5/19/12 I watched Rouben Mamoulian's Queen Christina.  A strong Garbo performance although I'm partial to her work in The Mysterious Lady and Camille.  The final shot though makes it all worthwhile.

9/3/12 I watched Archie Mayo's The Mayor of Hell.  Some strong performances, particularly from a few of the kids, but screwy and often feels like it's throwing its plot implausibilities quickly into the closet before anyone notices.  Mostly forgettable for me.  

9/22/12 I watched Alfred E Green's Baby Face.  A little too neat for me most of the time, but features yet another excellent Stanwyck performance and is interesting as a pre-code artifact.  

9/23/12 I watched William Wellman's Wild Boys of the Road.  It has heart, I'll give it that, but I'm not sure the acting always pulls it through, and it ends up feeling more well-intentioned than affecting.

9/30/12 I watched A Edward Sutherland's International House.  A sort of messy, slapstick pre-code trifle that gains great import those few times when WC Fields hits the screen.  

10/27/12 I watched Lloyd Bacon's Picture Snatcher.  Interesting for yet another great Cagney performance and a surprisingly violent shoot-out near the end.  Otherwise though not terribly inventive or vital.

11/4/12 I watched Frank Capra's The Bitter Tea of General Yen.  An extremely interesting film, one where Capra couches some of his heftiest thoughts and most exquisite aesthetic flourishes into what might appear on the surface as something completely impersonal.  Although less a moving experience for me than one of admiration, I can understand why this one has so many supporters.  

11/11/12 I watched James Whale's The Invisible Man.  Loony and locked in a perpetual hysteria, Whale never shies away from the material.  And the movie is strongest because of Whale's commitment.  Not really my thing though but glad I have now seen it.

8/4/13 I watched Frank Borzage's Man's Castle.  Borzage proves once again he is one of cinema's rare great practitioners of melodrama.  He is very comfortable toiling in the lower class, piling on detail upon detail about how those struggling must feel about money, freedom, and simple, daily survival.  There is something very particular about Borzage's sensibility.  It is unsettling, even creepy while always managing to maintain a connection to real, recognizable situations and emotions.  He was an auteur (one feels a consistent, unique voice from film to film) and this is among the strongest of his w0rks I have seen so far.  

10/6/13 I watched Jean Vigo's Zero for Conduct.  Very possibly the most visually gifted of all the French filmmakers, he was France's Welles, a genius of cinematic language who left the cinema far too early.  Although I am a far bigger fan of his one feature, this film features some remarkable moments like the drawing that comes alive or the famous pillow fight.  Vigo was a surrealist with a playful streak that influenced Carax, Lynch, and so many others.  

7/31/14 I watched D'Abbadie D'Arrast's Topaze.  A film that is at times slightly lethargic from a narrative standpoint more than redeems itself through visual inventiveness and an all-in performance by Barrymore.  I have never seen Pagnol's version so cannot comment on how it stacks up.  D'Arrast proves himself though a very strong director with a keen sense of camera movement and emotive framing.  I was particularly struck by how he slowly pulled back the camera during Topaze's farewell speech to his classroom in the middle of the film.

11/5/17 I watched Lewis Milestone's Hallelujah, I'm a Bum.  Having read that one of my favorite critics, Jonathan Rosenbaum, rated it in his best 100 films of all time, I was extremely curious to see it.  It is exactly the type of film Rosenbaum tends to champion.  It is not stylistically flashy nor even terribly entertaining; however, it tackles complex subject matter and it does so with an intelligence and narrative skill of a very high order.  I may not always agree with Rosenbaum, but it is hard for me to argue with this film deserving attention and great respect.

11/24/17 I watched Raoul Walsh's The Bowery.  I can see why Scorsese would be a fan but a little creaky and not as affecting for me as some of the other Walsh films from the 30s and 40s.  

1/29/18 I watched Clyde Bruckman's The Fatal Glass of Beer.  An early Fields short that has some intermittently funny moments.  

7/14/18 I watched George Cukor's Dinner at Eight.  Most extraordinary is not the drama but the acting and the multitude of characters and social situations we can recognize and have probably experienced.  Not completely sure if it should all be viewed as a critique and/or satire, but it sure seems like it even though Cukor was such a fixture in the world he is depicting.  

7/19/18 I watched George Cukor's Little Women.  FilmStruck celebrates Cukor this week as its featured director, making it as good of a time as any to dig deeper into his work.  He never was a flashy stylist and many of his films seem comfortable taking their time even at the risk of running off some of the audience.  What makes Cukor so special is how deep he goes with his characters.  He trusts their freewheeling spirits, loves them, knowing it is possible both for them to entertain us and allow us into their souls.  As a result, we care an unusual amount about the characters in his films.  Cukor also was a master at restraint.  Just look at how long he withholds things from Hepburn, a practice run for his finest hour a few years later in Holiday.  Less entertaining than Hawks, less visual than Ford, less buoyant than Lubitsch and less clever than Wilder but just as great as them all.  

11/8/18 I watched Howard Hawks' Today We Live.  Not very interesting, with the exception of how weak of a film it is within Hawks' filmography and how much time he gives several action sequences.  

9/18/19 I rewatched Leo McCarey's Duck Soup.  I had forgotten how relentlessly funny much of it is.  It has such a  wonderful child's sense of play and humor and made me, for most of the film, feel like I was on the winning side of some great prank call.  I haven't seen all of The Marx Brothers' films but I would be surprised if they ever topped it.

1932: La Nuit du Carrefour (Jean Renoir)

1932: La Nuit du Carrefour (Jean Renoir)

I have only seen this once, and it was fifteen years ago.  But it struck me at the time and has stayed with me ever since as perhaps the most atmospheric noir film I've ever seen.  I don't mean to frustrate with this choice, as I know most people haven't seen it.  I hope though that people will seek it out and that eventually as the years pass it will no longer be one of these undiscovered Renoir gems.  

The movie's an adaptation of a book by famed Belgian crime novelist, Georges Simenon.  I remember the story not making too much sense, but I don't think it's Simenon's fault.  There are stories about one reel from the movie being definitively lost.

The movie is visually very dark (maybe the darkest I've ever seen), opaque, foggy, and almost dream-like.  If you like your noirs less plot-driven than sensory-driven, I can't think of a more effective film.  

Other contenders for 1932: Let me start by saying I've only seen Trouble in Paradise once, and for one reason or another, it did not impact me.  That said, I have already put it on my queue and plan to revisit it very soon.  As a huge fan of The Shop Around the Corner and of Lubitsch in general, it's very possible that I took it in on an off day. Like every other year, I definitely have gaps from 1932.  They are: Tod Browning's Freaks, Raoul Walsh's Me and My Gal, Carl Theodor Dreyer's Vampyr, James Whale's The Old Dark House, Rouben Mamoulian's Love Me Tonight, Yasujiro Ozu's I Was Born, But..., Alfred Hitchcock's Rich and Strange, Howard Hawks' The Crowd Roars, Paul Fejos' Marie, a Hungarian Legend, Howard Hawks' Tiger Shark, Ernst Lubitsch's The Man I Killed, James Parrott's The Music Box, Irving Pichel and Ernest Schoedsack's The Most Dangerous Game, and Norman McLeod's Horse Feathers.  Of the films I have seen, I like Jean Vigo's Zero for Conduct, although it did not affect me near as much as L'atalante.  I found Ernst Lubitsch's One Hour With You quite entertaining and charming, but I can't remember it for much more than that.  Scarface, the Shame of the Nation is a film I really admire, but emotionally it doesn't affect near the way that some of the later Hawks' films do.  Probably my closest runner-up would be Luis Bunuel's Land Without Bread.  I remember it as being a very powerful and disturbing film, and it still somewhat haunts me, more than fifteen years after I saw it.  But, ultimately, I have to make this little seen Renoir film my top choice.  I remember it as one of the moodiest and atmospheric of any film I've ever seen.    


3/13/10 I re-watched Ernst Lubitsch's Trouble in Paradise.  Although it wouldn't contend for my top spot, I certainly had a much better experience with it this time around.  There's an effervescence in the air that Lubitsch is able to maintain with the writing, acting, and spirited camera movements.  I find myself moved much more by his later The Shop Around the Corner, but this is certainly one of my favorite films I've seen by him.  


4/17/10 I watched Ernst Lubitsch's One Hour with You.  Although I liked it more than Monte Carlo and The Love Parade, it wouldn't contend for my top spot.  It's the earliest film, however, that I've seen where actors directly address the audience.  May have been a major influence on some of Belmondo's actions in Godard's Pierrot Le Fou.  A very playful, fun movie.  


4/22/10 I watched Josef von Sternberg's Blonde Venus.  It felt somewhat patchy and wouldn't contend for my top spot, but it did have some great moments.  I particularly liked the moment right after Dietrich lets Johnny leave on the train with Herbert Marshall. Dietrich's face at this point is devastating.  Overall, the film is complex, runs through a deep gamut of emotions, and features some beautiful tracking shots that remind me of Morocco.


4/30/10 I watched Tod Browning's Freaks.  It's an incredible film, no doubt, and unlike anything I've ever seen.  "Gooble gobble.  One of us. We accept her" is simply one of the more incredible and powerful moments I've seen in a very long time.  Has to be one of David Lynch's favorites.  


5/12/10 I watched Norman McLeod's Horse Feathers.  This was only my second ever experience with a Marx Brothers film, and I did struggle a little with it.  However, occasionally I will admit to finding a few of the lines pretty witty.  


5/14/10 I watched Frank Borzage's A Farewell to Arms.  Some nice moments, but I never fully felt Catherine and Frederic's relationship. But full of Borzage's wonderful expressionism and a painful tale of forbidden love.


5/16/10 I watched Irving Pichel and Ernest Schoedsack's The Most Dangerous Game.  I liked how tight the film was, and the execution is quite clean and effective.  A very original movie and pretty entertaining for its time.  


5/19/10 I watched James Whale's The Old Dark House.  There's a certain lunacy to it all, and I particularly liked the scenes when Saul emerges from his room.  A little slow at times for me, but it feels like an important (creates and solidifies certain archetypes), early genre film.


5/20/10 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's I Was Born, But...  Wow, what deep emotions Ozu is able to explore.  Particularly the idea of young kids having to come to terms with their father's rank in society.  Ozu goes deep, takes it slow, but explores characters and themes that are incredibly universal and real.  


5/23/10 I watched Rouben Mamoulian's Love Me Tonight.  It's definitely an interesting film, much different at times formally than the Lubitsch collaborations with Chevalier and MacDonald.  Some real heart and full of the playfulness that I would later associate with Godard's early work.  


5/29/10 I watched Mervyn LeRoy's I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang. A little preachy and heavy-handed, perhaps, at times.  But admirable in how uncompromising it is.  The scenes on the chain gang are powerful, and Muni turns in an extremely strong performance.  


6/2/10 I watched Carl Theodor Dreyer's Vampyr.  Granted vampire movies are not really my thing, but I'm a HUGE fan of Dreyer's work. But this one, whether it's because much of the original negative was lost or some other explanation altogether, left me cold and pretty uninterested.  All that said, some impressive visuals at times and Dreyer certainly in a very inventive space.


7/5/10 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's Rich and Strange.  A very unconventional film from Hitch and perhaps the one I like the least. The shipwreck is a nice moment, but otherwise I found it pretty uninspired and unengaging.  

11/18/12 I watched Howard Hawks' The Crowd Roars.  An early Hawks film I have been wanting to see for the longest time, I was able to catch up with it finally on TCM.  Already in 1932, Hawks proves himself unusually adept at filming action, and there is a scene or two I would rank with the very greatest of any ever filmed by Hawks.  The long sequence that begins with Cagney arriving at Indianapolis and ends with him at the diner illustrates the unique greatness Hawks possessed as storyteller.  With just simple, direct, and fluid brush strokes, Hawks was able to arrive at a truth - profound, very  human, and with all that was immaterial left behind.  

11/18/12 I watched Victor Fleming's Red Dust.  Some people prefer this version over Ford's Mogambo.  The pre-code timing does allow it to show a little more of its sexy subject matter.  But Gardner and Kelly in the latter version bring a beauty that for me dwarfs Astor and Harlow. Of course Ford at the helm also works in its favor.   

9/8/13 I watched Edward Sedgwick's The Passionate Plumber.  There must be a story behind this one, something I am missing because what's left on screen for now is among my least favorite outings from a great director-actor team.  It all seems a mess with maybe one or two moderately enjoyable gags. 

12/14/13 I watched George Cukor's What Price Hollywood?  Interesting as an early Cukor pic and opportunity to see a first run at the A Star Is Born story.  Bennett has some impressive scenes, and she has a look of real style and beauty.  I much prefer though the Wellman and Cukor later versions. 

1/4/14 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's Number Seventeen.  An early working out of The 39 Steps, perhaps, and as a primer has some historical interest but as a film it is rough and hard to follow.  I admire the scope of the final major set piece but the rest left me distant and unmoved.  

1/3/18 I watched Leslie Pearce's The Dentist.  Fields is somewhat funny in this underwhelming short in which he stars.  

1/7/18 I watched Edward F. Cline's Million Dollar Legs.  As a precursor to the outlandish sensibility that Preston Strurges would later brand, this WC Fields feature is worth a look.  Being pre-code works in its favor and there are a number of memorable sight gags including the sped-up runner or the scan of different buttons Fields has at his disposal inside his Klopstokia home.

5/28/18 I watched Where Now Are the Dreams of Youth?  The first time I am back to working my way through Ozu in chronological order since March of 2017.

It is one of his films I have never heard about and it comes immediately after one of his more famous works, I Was Born, But....  Like its predecessor, what is noticeable is Ozu's development into a very complex emotional filmmaker.  The final fifteen or so minutes, in particular, show Ozu's range as an unflinchingly brutal realist and a deeply searching humanist.  In fact, I cannot recall a more emotionally uncompromising scene to date in Ozu's cinema than Tetsuo and Saiki's final encounter. 

Some formal elements that I noticed are Ozu's reliance on tatami shots but not entirely, some tracking shots and a predominance of shorter takes compared to where his cinema would eventually end up in the latter part of his career.  It would take a second viewing for me to confirm, but I think I noticed Ozu shifting to longer takes during a couple of the more emotionally important moments. 

A few other small observations.  Again, there is a scene that features an American film poster which was surprising to me, as I thought by this point in his career that Ozu had let go of any Western influence on his work.  There were also a couple of exterior shots as Tetsuo rode in a car.  I cannot recall a previous shot of this type in Ozu's cinema.  And, like I Was Born, But..., there is an underlying playfulness and almost silliness that exists that seems to disappear from most of Ozu's later work.

Interesting to note that it would not be until 1936 that Ozu would make his first talkie, possibly the latest of all adopters.  Also, of note, it dawned on me that unlike Mizoguchi I am not sure Ozu ever made a film that was period or not set in present day.


For films about the difficult transition from adolescence to adulthood or even for films about the meaning of friendship, Where Now Are the Dreams Of Youth? deserves to be a part of the discussion.

9/12/19 I rewatched Norman Z. McLeod's Horse Feathers.  At about fifteen minutes in or so, the slapstick starts in full gear and McLeod does a tremendous job of maintaining its breakneck pace for nearly the next 75 minutes.  

5/30/20 I watched Howard Hawks' Tiger Shark.  A minor yet very interesting early Hawks film.  What impressed me the most was the time Hawks allows for capturing the details of the fishing industry at the time.  I also admired the amount of darkness Hawks permitted to color certain scenes and moments.

12/9/20 I watched Josef von Sternberg's Shanghai Express.  The film is hard to pinpoint.  It keeps you on your toes, never quite clear whether it is happy or tragic, deep or superficial, art or entertainment.  It is not easy to enter emotionally either but it is always interesting to look at and listen to.  I have had far easier times with other von Sternberg works like Morocco or The Blue Angel.  

5/15/21 I watched Raoul Walsh's Me and My Gal.  Tracy and Bennett are excellent, as are the few moments that hint at what American cinema would have looked like in the late thirties had the Hays Code never happened.  But the character work never went as deep or became as affecting as in my favorite work by Walsh such as Gentleman Jim and The Strawberry Blonde.

1931: La chienne (Jean Renoir)

1931: La chienne (Jean Renoir)

I hate to admit it, but the first time I saw this I was in my favorite theater in Paris (Le Grand Action), and I fell asleep.  I'm sure it was during one of my "three or four films in a day" binges, and I just couldn't keep my eyes open any longer.  Anyway, I think I finally saw it for the first time in its entirety during the Fall of 1996, and it's haunted me ever since.  


As I mentioned in my 1930 post, there are great similarities between this film and Josef von Sternberg's The Blue Angel.  I'm sure it's even quite possible that von Sternberg influenced Renoir.  But, the Renoir, and Michel Simon's descent (SPOILER!) into absolute depravity, have always felt more rooted in reality (more human, more true) than Jannings' performance.   


I once heard the great French director, Claude Chabrol, say that the ideal filmmaker would consist of Renoir's vitality and Fritz Lang's rigor.  I'm not sure I don't agree.  I've always thought it interesting that Lang only re-made two films in his career and both were originally directed by Jean Renoir (Human Desire was a retread of Renoir's La bete humaine and Scarlet Street of La chienne).  


Like The Blue Angel, La chienne is a grand tragedy, and I feel every inch of Michel Simon's hope and then despair.  There's a naturalism in Renoir's approach to the film that has always greatly appealed to me. But, more than anything, it's the profoundness of Simon's journey that will always stay with me.  

Other contenders for 1931: There are some things I still need to see from this year, most notably: James Whale's Frankenstein, Rene Clair's A nous la liberte, and Josef von Sternberg's Dishonored.  I also have never seen Josef von Sternberg's An American Tragedy, DW Griffith's final film The Struggle, GW Pabst's The Threepenny Opera, Lewis Milestone's The Front Page, Dziga Vertov's Enthusiasm, Rene Clair's Le million, and Frank Capra's Platinum Blonde.  I am a fan of both The Champ and The Public Enemy, but this is a highly competitive year for me and neither of these films could really compete for my top choice.  Then there is M, probably my favorite opening in the history of film, and a film for which I have absolute admiration and respect.  But, emotionally I respond more strongly to my top pick and my #1 runner-up, City Lights. This is my favorite Chaplin, and one of my favorite films of all time, but I finally gave the slight edge to the Renoir as Michel Simon's journey in the film still haunts me to this day.


2/28/10 I watched Rene Clair's A nous la liberte.  Although I know it's Clair's Modern Times and it has its charming moments, it never quite grabbed me.  


3/3/10 I watched Frank Capra's Platinum Blonde.  I loved Loretta Young in the film and Robert Williams in his final role.  The film though never fully grabbed me.  


3/4/10 I watched Rene Clair's Le million.  It had some really charming moments, but some of it lost focus and drive for me, particularly during the long scenes of La Boheme.  


4/30/10 I watched DW Griffith's The Struggle.  It definitely mines some dark and admirable territory, but I can't say it's all fully felt.  The wedding party scene when Jimmy disappears is certainly quite devastating though, and Zita Johann exceptionally beautiful.  


5/1/10 I watched James Whale's Frankenstein.  A bona fide classic. Whale really goes a long way towards humanizing the monster, and scenes like the one he has with the little girl and his final stand are quite moving.  Whale also brings a nice playfulness to the proceedings.


5/2/10 I watched GW Pabst's The 3 Penny Opera.  I find Pabst's style slightly stodgy, just like I did with his two Louise Brooks films.  But this one had some nice moments.  I particularly liked when we first meet Mr. Peachum.  

4/6/14 I watched Rene Clair's A Nous la Liberte.  I did not realize I was rewatching this one.  It has a major reputation but feels dated and thin narratively and emotionally.  

10/11/14 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's The Skin Game.  A pretty hard to follow, underwhelming early Hitch that seems to be trying to find its way into the new era of sound in cinema.  Hitch still manages to show a little flair such as the long sequence he creates as the two men square off at the auction.  

10/13/15 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's The Lady and the Beard.  Seems to be his first film where the tatami shots abound.  Not yet in the full world of Ozu but interesting to see the pieces starting to take shape. 

1/2/16 I am back to working my way through all of Ozu's work chronologically.  This next entry, Tokyo Chorus, seems to be the first-blown emergence of the style most people think of when they think of the filmmaker.  Nearly the entire film is shot tatami-style and with a static camera.

5/28/18 I watched Jean Vigo's Taris.  The way that he uses reverse and slow motion are still more magical and lyrical than they have been in the hands of any other filmmaker.

10/11/19 I watched Howard Hawks' The Criminal Code.  A rare Hawks that I have been wanting to see.  It has some extraordinary moments, particularly centered around Walter Huston or Boris Karloff's acting.  Some of the scenes feel a little rickety but Hawks keeps the story headed in unpredictable directions and by the end it is unclear what type of ending he is going to give us.

1930: The Blue Angel (Josef von Sternberg)

I skipped 1929 because there are too many key films from that year that I've yet to see.  I'm embarrassed to say that I have never seen either GW Pabst's Diary of a Lost Girl or Pandora's Box. (I know, absolutely unacceptable!)  Other films I still need to see from this year include: King Vidor's Hallelujah!, Dziga Vertov's Man with the Movie Camera, Josef von Sternberg's Thunderbolt, Ernst Lubitsch's The Love Parade, and Jean Renoir's Le Bled.  And, of the films I have seen from 1929, none have left a strong enough impression on me to really qualify as a "favorite film" of mine.  Over time, however, I hope to rectify this and eventually have an entry for 1929.


2/17/10 I watched GW Pabst's Pandora's Box.  I loved seeing Louise Brooks after hearing so much about her, but the film challenged me.  I could never really connect to anything on screen, and Pabst's direction felt scattered and unfocused to me for almost the entire film.    


2/18/10 I watched Dziga Vertov's The Man With the Movie Camera. Like Pandora's Box, this wouldn't contend for my top spot.  It never really sucked me in emotionally.  However, it's a key film in the history of cinema, and I'm so glad to finally watch it.  More than anything, I was fascinated to learn at the beginning of this that it's an effort (articulated by Vertov in the opening credits) to demonstrate the difference between cinema and the other arts.  I always attributed this movement to the French New Wave and never knew that as early as 1929, people were trying to substantiate film as an artform.


2/19/10 I watched King Vidor's Hallelujah!  It wouldn't contend for my top spot, but I thought there were a few amazing scenes, namely the final chase in the swamp, Zeke's dice game, and Zeke's recognition of Chick at church near the end.  Another one that I'm really glad to finally see.


2/22/1o I watched Ernst Lubitsch's The Love Parade.  Although I found some of its themes fairly interesting (marital power negotiations, male struggles in a female-dominated relationship), this one didn't really work for me.


4/4/10 I watched GW Pabst's Diary of a Lost Girl.  Although I enjoyed it slightly more than Pandora's Box, Pabst is a tough director for me. He seems to have a very melodramatic sensibility and a somewhat episodic approach to storytelling.  These two movies are pretty tough going for me.  It also doesn't help that they are both almost unrelentingly dark.    

10/9/20 I watched Joseph Santley and Robert Florey's The Cocoanuts.  An early Marx Brothers film that seemed to meander even more than usual.  But Harpo for me, as usual, steals the show when he's given his several moments to shine.

1930: The Blue Angel (Josef von Sternberg)

I first saw The Blue Angel during the Summer of 1996, only a month or two after graduating college.  I spent most of May-August living in a friend's apartment in Paris, right in the middle of cinephile mecca, the Latin Quarter .  There are more arthouses per square mile in the 5th arrondissement of Paris than in any other place I've ever been. Anyway, I remember catching The Blue Angel at one of these great theaters on Rue Mouffetard.  I saw it at like noon or maybe even 10AM (another great Parisian quirk, many of the arthouses open early).  Needless to say, it was a great day. 


The Blue Angel reminds me very much of my 1931 entry, La chienne. Both movies contain absolutely devastating femmes fatales, Marlene Dietrich here.  And both movies conclude (SPOILER!) with their male leads in incredibly dark places.  I'm not sure why, but I like grand tragedies, and The Blue Angel and Emil Jannings' performance are about as tragic as they come.  I can't always identify with loneliness on screen, but Jannings makes me feel for his character in a way that is complete and painful. 


Of course, I also love Dietrich in the film.  She not only traps Jannings, she entangles me, too.  But it's really Jannings that makes this one so powerful for me.  




Other contenders for 1930: There are some huge gaps I still need to fill in for this year.  The three most notable are probably Lewis Milestone's All Quiet on the Western Front, Howard Hawks' The Dawn Patrol, and Alexander Dovzhenko's Earth.  Other films from this year I still need to see are:  Ernst Lubitsch's Monte Carlo, Raoul Walsh's The Big Trail, Alfred Hitchcock's Murder, Mervyn LeRoy's Little Caesar, Yasujiro Ozu's That Night's Wife, Josef von Sternberg's Morocco, Tay Garnett's Her Man, and FW Murnau's City Girl.  I'm a fan of Luis Bunuel's L'Age d'Or although it doesn't affect me emotionally in the same way as the von Sternberg film.  I remember really falling for the charm and music in Rene Clair's Under the Roofs of Paris, but it probably didn't impact me as deeply as my first choice. Of my runner-ups, the only real challenger for me is FW Murnau and Robert Flaherty's Tabu.  It's one of the most poetic films I've ever seen, and it's a film I'll continue to re-visit with some frequency.  But ultimately it's the sense of tragedy in The Blue Angel, and the way that Jannings' performance devastates me, that make it my favorite film of the year.  


2/20/10 I watched Alexander Dovzhenko's Earth.  It wouldn't beat out The Blue Angel for my top spot.  I simply connect personally too much with the von Sternberg film.  However, it's easy to see why Earth has such a major reputation.  


It taught me a couple of things.  I probably should have already been able to articulate this after The Passion of Joan of Arc, but I now understand that it was necessary in silent film to push actors to do something more THEATRICAL, bigger than what was necessary once the talkies gained ground.  The actors in this film, and the way that Dovzhenko films them mostly in close-up, are incredibly expressive, nearly on the same level as Falconetti in the Dreyer film.  Also, it's the first time I've fully appreciated Eisenstein's montage theory.  Twice, Dovzhenko uses it to great effect.  The first time is after a shot of Simon dying, he immediately cuts to a shot of high grass (or maybe wheat) blowing in the wind.  The second time is immediately after (I believe) Basil's fiancee learns of his death, he immediately cuts to a shot of a young boy eating watermelon.  These two juxtapositions create unusual and deep emotions that a more conventional editing pattern could never achieve.  

2/21/10 I watched Ernst Lubitsch's Monte Carlo.  It wouldn't contend for my top spot as the chemistry seemed off to me at times.  But Jeanette MacDonald charmed me again, as she has in a number of other Lubitsch films.  It also was the first time that I realized Preston Sturges must have considered Lubitsch a major influence.  These early Lubitsch films have that offbeat humor, mania, and cleverness that I so often associate with Sturges.  


2/21/10 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's Murder!  It wouldn't contend for my top spot, but it is amazing to see how many things Hitchcock did this well this early in his career.  He already is telling a good amount of the story with the camera.  And, in this, one of his earliest sound outings, he already has incorporated his trademark double entendres into the storytelling.  Of particular interest, the "mousetrap" scene in Sir John's office and the final trapeze set piece.  The offscreen violence in the latter is amazingly impactful.  


2/24/10 I watched Lewis Milestone's All Quiet on the Western Front.  It wouldn't contend for my top spot, but it does have some very powerful moments -- the final images, the scene between Paul and the French girl, and the moments near the end between Paul and Katczinsky and Paul and Franz.  It has some fantastic tracking shots during some of the battle scenes, and I really like the way it handles a few of the death sequences.  You can tell there's a real reverence for life here.  All in all though, a little of it felt too broad for me.  And I think emotionally I would have been more involved if Milestone had chosen one character and spent more time letting us track him.  However, with the way it's done, I find myself caring less than I would have hoped.  


2/26/10 I watched FW Murnau's City Girl.  Although Murnau demonstrates moments of being a director of an unbelievably modern sensibility, most of this story and film fell flat for me. 


2/28/10 I watched Mervyn LeRoy's Little Caesar.  Although it wouldn't contend for my top spot, I thought it had several really strong moments -- particularly the close-ups LeRoy uses as Rico confronts Joe near the end and Tony's death on the steps of the church.  


3/3/10 I watched Raoul Walsh's The Big Trail.  Although it wouldn't contend for my top spot, there is the painfully beautiful Marguerite Churchill and some great examples of Walsh's special feel for nature and Americana.


3/14/10 I watched Josef von Sternberg's Morocco.  Wow, a pretty great film.  The most poetic von Sternberg I've seen and some incredibly brave and conceptually consistent filmmaking -- those tracking shots and that scene of Dietrich looking for Cooper upon his troop's return.  I still probably prefer The Blue Angel, but this one, along with Earth, push very close.

5/14/15 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's first surviving film, Days of Youth.  Interesting more than anything as a starting point for the rest of his work. 

5/23/15 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's second surviving film, Fighting Friends.  Hard to tell how much of what was originally shot remains but certainly reminds of Ozu's tremendous humanism. 

5/24/15 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's third surviving film, I Graduated, But....  Not the easiest to follow as not very much footage survives but invaluable as we continue to put the Ozu story together.

5/25/15 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's A Straightforward Boy which is certainly an oddball in the director's incredible body of work.

7/11/15 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's Walk Cheerfully.  An Ozu noir that is not incredibly interesting but it is at least curious to see the master working in this space. 

7/18/15 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's I Flunked, But...  Not a masterpiece yet but Ozu's confidence and touch are beginning to take very clear form. 

10/11/15 I watched Yasujiro Ozu's That Night's Wife.  An interesting noir with some complex unusual emotional moments.  Ozu still finding his voice but certainly worth a look.  

5/28/18 I watched Jean Vigo's A propos de Nice.  Vigo was like the Hendrix of cinema, constantly finding ways to blow up the medium.  He obviously viewed cinema as full of unexplored possibilities, charting new territory with such ease and reckless abandon.  

6/10/20 I watched Howard Hawks' The Dawn Patrol.  It is great to finally catch up with some of Hawks' very early work.  A couple of weeks ago I saw Tiger Shark for the first time and now this, one of Hawks' first talkies.  There are some absolutely incredible and unexpected sequences.  The entire scene of Barthelmess and Fairbanks doing combat themselves without the rest of the squadron is remarkable in the time and air that Hawks grants the moment but also in the level of detail and realism he is able to bring to it.  Hawks also does one of his best jobs ever in creating the friendship between Courtney and Scott and all that comes with that level of connection.

10/8/20 I watched Victor Heerman's Animal Crackers.  It's hard for me to stay with a Marx Brothers film from beginning to end.  Groucho is just so verbose and some of the moments so loose the filmmakers give the impression that even they don't care if the audience's attention comes and goes.  I will say, to its benefit, that it has a few of the funniest moments I have seen from them yet, including their bridge game and Harpo Marx's leg gag with the various women and his brothers.

1928: The Passion of Joan of Arc (Carl Theodor Dreyer)

1928: The Passion of Joan of Arc (Carl Theodor Dreyer)

Seeing The Passion of Joan of Arc the first time, the way that I did, remains one of the most memorable cinephile experiences I've ever had (and probably will ever have).  It was 1995, the Summer, and I was out in Los Angeles visiting my brother.  Modern classical composer, Richard Einhorn, had recently composed a piece entitled Voices of Light and was performing it for the first time in Los Angeles at the incredible John Anson Ford Amphitheatre.   So I decided to go, alone (maybe my favorite way to take in a movie).  They projected the film on a massive screen and then as it played these hundreds of people behind the screen (musicians and vocals) provided the accompaniment.  It was roaringly powerful and as transcendent as any artistic experience I've ever had.   

Dreyer's film for me is all about Renee Jeanne Falconetti's face.  Simply put, it's the MOST emotive thing I've ever seen on a screen.  

Everyone always talks about what the talkies could do that silent films couldn't (and of course there are obvious things).  However, in my favorite silent films, it's not just directors making a film without sound; it's a different artform in many ways, with different strengths and weaknesses.  If you ask me to show an example of what a silent film can do that the talkies can never really imitate, this is the film I would use.    

Other contenders for 1928:  Admittedly, there are some major gaps I still have to fill for this year.  The most notable are probably:  Howard Hawks' A Girl in Every Port, Josef von Sternberg's The Docks of New York, King Vidor's The Crowd, Fritz Lang's Spies, and Victor Seastrom's The Wind.  I also have never seen Alfred Hitchcock's The Farmer's Wife, Jean Renoir's Le tournoi dans la cite, and Jean Renoir's short film La petite marchande d'allumettes.  I've seen Queen Kelly once, but it didn't really stay with me.  I really like Un chien andalou, but it doesn't affect me in the same complete way as my top pick.  The only two runner-ups that could really challenge for this spot are my two favorite Buster Keaton films: Steamboat Bill, Jr. and The Cameraman.  To me, they're the two Keaton films with the most energy and the most mind-blowing action sequences.  But, finally, I give the edge to the Dreyer as it affected me more deeply than any other film I've seen from this year.

2/15/10 I watched Charlie Chaplin's The Circus.  It wouldn't contend for my top spot.  I can't say it emotionally wrapped me up as much as some of his other films.  But it does have a lot to say both about the nature of humor and the role of the artist.  It also reminds me that Chaplin, at times, could get at deep melancholy about as well as anyone.  


2/16/10 I watched Frank Borzage's Street Angel.  It wouldn't contend for my top spot, but I did like that it was less melodramatic than Borzage's Seventh Heaven.  However, some of the plotting, particularly the central "catch", did keep me from fully embracing it.


2/23/10 I watched Fritz Lang's Spies.  Although it wouldn't contend for my top spot, it definitely sets up many of the archetypes and rules for what we've come to know as an action film.  Lang's exceptional eye is on display several times here; I think the first five minutes are particularly strong.  Some of the rest of the movie's narrative, however, feels a little on the long-winded side.  


4/23/10 I watched Alexander Dovzhenko's Arsenal.  Strong imagery and composition again from Dovzhenko, especially when he decides to move the camera.  However, I found the storyline in Earth a little easier to follow, and ultimately the later film (Earth) affected me a little more. But very interesting final shot in this one.  


3/16/11 I watched Josef von Sternberg's The Docks of New York. Probably an influence on L'atalante, but it lacks the heavy atmosphere and transcendent poetry of Vigo's film.  There are some heartfelt moments here and von Sternberg shows glimpses of his own expressive abilities, but the story drags to the entire venture's detriment.  


10/30/11 I watched Jean Renoir's La petite marchande d'allumettes. Another avant-garde, quirky, surreal short from Renoir, much like Charleston Parade.  Decent showcase for Hessling but mostly not really memorable.  


1/29/12 I watched Fred Niblo's The Mysterious Lady.  Garbo is sexy personified in this very efficient, inventive, and entertaining early work. Oh, and did I mention Garbo?

9/15/13 I watched the second installment of Mark Cousins' The Story of Film: An Odyssey: 1918-1928 The Triumph of American Film.  Another compelling entry focused primarily on Keaton, Chaplin, and Lloyd.  My favorite parts, however, are when Cousins moves into von Stroheim and Dreyer and illuminates aspects of both in ways I had never heard.  

10/13/13 I watched King Vidor's The Crowd.  Masterful in how real to life it seems.  Vidor takes us on an emotionally uncomfortable ride and manages so much of the exposition through inventive and efficient cinematic devices.  Visually striking and emotionally loyal, it is a masterpiece although because of the subject matter you may end up like me more in admiration than in deep love.  

11/8/17 I watched Paul Fejos' Lonesome.  I wish Paul Schrader were here.  I've heard him list off on a number of occasions the things that cinema does particularly well and I always thought his list quite astute.  But one thing he may or may not have mentioned that I think the medium does unusually well is restraint.  When the cinema holds back from giving the audience what it craves for an extended amount of time and then finally delivers, the result can be incredibly powerful and moving.  I'm thinking of Fellini's restraint from using a close-up until the very end of Nights of Cabiria or Marker's sudden burst of movement in La Jetee or the emotional restraint Bresson exhibits throughout the entirety of Pickpocket until the very final moments.  Here, the restraint has to do with sound and as with the very best examples of restraint, when it finally breaks or gives in, it comes as a complete shock.  The first time the two characters spoke in Lonesome I did not know what to think.  I have seen a good number of films but I have never gone into a silent film expecting to hear two characters speaking to one another 30 minutes in.  But Fejos does not stop there.  He dazzles with color, he dazzles with montage and then when it is time for him to bring it all to a close, he does that gloriously as well.

8/30/20 I watched Victor Sjostrom's The Wind.  There are some tremendous sequences.  I particularly admired the way that Sjostrom builds suspense from the moment we know Wirt Roddy is headed back to Letty's house to the time he actually arrives.  Sjostrom displays extraordinary restraint and as a result is able to create much more discomfort and even horror when he allows the moment finally to materialize.  

1927: Sunrise (FW Murnau)

1927: Sunrise (FW Murnau)

I've seen Sunrise twice in theaters.  The first time must have been in France.  But I can't remember the exact year or theater.  The second time was definitely in Los Angeles, probably in 2000, at the Silent Movie Theater.

It had two different musical scores the two times I saw it, which is not terribly uncommon for films of this period.  But, this tendency is something that can really alter the experience for me.  In fact, I wasn't too keen on the second score and remember having a less positive experience the night I saw it at the SMT. 

But, all this to say, I am still fascinated by Sunrise.  It's one of these early movies where you really feel a director, dazzled by all the possibilities of this new medium.  It's been ten years or so since I last saw it, but when I think of it, I remember Murnau's amazing use of the dissolve, some incredible scenery, and of course, one of the greatest "romantic" stories the cinema's ever produced.  

Another Murnau film I like quite a bit that didn't make the list is Tabu. But of the Murnau (often thought of as one of cinema's giants) films I've seen so far, Sunrise would have to be my favorite.

Other contenders for 1927:  There are some highly thought of films from this year that I still have never seen.  These especially include Frank Borzage's Seventh Heaven, Josef von Sternberg's Underworld, and Abel Gance's Napoleon.  Other films from this year that I still need to track down are Jean Renoir's Charleston, Alfred Hitchcock's The Ring, Rene Clair's The Italian Straw Hat, Ernst Lubitsch's The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg, and Howard Hawks' Paid to Love.  I have seen Fritz Lang's Metropolis, which I greatly admire.  It pains me a little, to be honest, to put Murnau's film ahead of it.  But, I guess I finally gave the edge to Sunrise because its story grabs me a little more.  I also love the visuals of Buster Keaton's The General. For me, it's the most visually impressive of all of his films I've seen, and one of the greatest visual accomplishments of the period.  I remember watching it and at times my jaw dropping at some of the set pieces and the sheer complexity of some of the things Keaton is doing in the film. Sergei Eisenstein's October, though interesting and somewhat instructive, leaves me a little indifferent.   And, another Keaton film from this year, College, is a fun romp, but I can't remember it for much more than that.

2/13/10 I watched Frank Borzage's Seventh Heaven.  It wouldn't contend for my top pick.  As much as I have a soft spot for romance and unrequited love, melodrama like this goes a little too far for me.  


4/16/10 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's The Ring.  It definitely shows how dark Hitch could be at times and how much he liked to push the boundaries of form.  But it seemed a little flat to me for most of the film.  


3/28/11 I watched Josef von Sternberg's Underworld.  An amazingly important early American crime film as you can almost feel it saying, "Okay, now here will be the shape of the next fifty years of crime films, here are how the characters will act, and here's what they'll look like. " I'm no fan of Bancroft, and he hurt my ability to fully connect.  But von Sternberg's ability to tell a story, create a world, and tell a plot-driven crime film in the silent era are all truly impressive.  And he even finds the time for some great cinematic style and more subtle character moments.  

8/15/13 I watched Ernst Lubitsch's The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg.  Most impressive to me were some of the unusually mobile camera movements for the time and Lubitsch's feel for nature which I have never noticed before.  The story fell a little flat, but I am glad to have finally caught up with this one even if it does not rank among my favorites of the master.  

1926: Nana (Jean Renoir)

Yesterday, inspired by Dave Hicks' excellent blog , I decided to list on the right side of my blog's home page, my favorite film for each year from 1926-2008.  Dave not only does this but includes an in-depth review for each of his choices.  Over time, I'd like to do the same and figured I would start today by talking about the first film on my list.

First, a few disclaimers though:
1.  I'm really no critic and will probably keep these posts more personal than analytical.
2.  These are simply my favorite films from each year.  By no means am I saying that they are the BEST film from each year.  These are simply the ones that have spoken to me the most, for one reason or another (which of course I hope to articulate somewhat here.)
3.  Most of these are coming from memory.  And many I've only seen once and many, many years ago.

To avoid too many glaring omissions (and to jog the memory a bit), I used several different lists to help me compile my own list.  These other lists are of course Dave's, Dan Sallitt's blog, Steve Erickson's desert island film list, Jonathan Rosenbaum's list, and Cahiers du Cinema's annual lists.


1926: Nana (Jean Renoir)
This might be my shortest piece of all.

I have only seen Nana once.  It was either in 1996 or 1997 and was during the time that I went through most of Renoir's work in chronological order.

I remember it being the first of his films that really grabbed me but honestly there's not too much I can remember about it (I could probably review some notes I took on it at the time, but I'd rather write these as impressions, and from memory.)  The most powerful impression I have is of being taken by Catherine Hessling's performance, who was Renoir's wife at the time.  I actually can't remember if I thought she was lovely or a wonderful femme fatale, but I remember having a strong feeling about her performance as Nana.

It's one I would love to see again, but I've never really had the chance. For the moment, it remains unavailable on Netflix.  But you can buy it as part of a Jean Renoir 3-Disc Collector's Edition from Amazon.

Other contenders for 1926 (another element I want to borrow from Dave's wonderful list):  At some point I need to re-visit FW Murnau's Faust.  It's really as if I've never seen it.  From this year, I particularly still want to see Howard Hawks' Fig Leaves, Vsevolod Pudovkin's Mother, Robert Flaherty's Moana, Buster Keaton's Battling Butler, Raoul Walsh's What Price Glory?, and Alfred Hitchcock's The Lodger.

2/10/10 I watched Vsevolod Pudovkin's Mother.  It wouldn't challenge for my top pick of the year.  But I did enjoy it, and I particularly appreciated it for its sense of choreography and the emotive power of the actress playing "Mother".  

2/10/10 I watched Alfred Hitchcock's The Lodger.  It wouldn't challenge for my top pick either.  But, I was definitely impressed by this early Hitch outing.  There are a few interesting dissolves, some very effective extreme close-ups, and an exceptionally fluid flashback.  Of particular interest to me, however, was the way that Hitchcock unfolded the story.  He had me fooled until nearly the very end.  It's a little cold.  I preferred it to the story of Blackmail, another early Hitchcock I watched recently.  But, I felt for Anny Ondra more in Blackmail than I did for anyone here.

2/11/10 I watched Buster Keaton's Battling Butler.  It wouldn't contend for my top pick, and it certainly doesn't affect me like my two favorite Keaton films (The Cameraman and Steamboat Bill, Jr.), but I'm glad I saw it.  I particularly liked its use of deep focus and as a change of pace, seeing Keaton, towards the end, depart from his usual stoic self.  

2/12/10 I watched FW Murnau's Faust.  Although not an easy watch, it would certainly challenge my top pick.  It's got heft, power, and some scenes that pack a serious emotional punch.  Camilla Horn as Gretchen is simply one of the most beautiful and emotive women I've ever seen, and Murnau's extraordinary eye is on display more times than I can remember.  A dark, deep, and very complex work.  

6/19/11 I watched Clarence Brown's Flesh and the Devil.  A reminder of how visually expressive, and even inventive, some of the silent period could be.  Full of nicely-weaved, surprising plot movements and a very memorable John Gilbert performance.  I don't know much about Clarence Brown's other work, but if this is any indication, he's someone I definitely need to explore.  

10/15/11 I watched Jean Renoir's Sur un air de Charleston.  Other than being the earliest demonstration of slow-motion I think I have seen, and it is poetic in its use here, there's not much I can recommend.  

1/15/12 I watched Fatty Arbuckle's The Garage.  An extremely spirited and well-directed early silent.  Some fantastic gags including Keaton hiding behind Arbuckle as he tries to evade the cops.  

1/15/12 I watched Edward Cline and Buster Keaton's Neighbors.  A moderately entertaining early Keaton.  A great gag featuring Keaton standing on the shoulders of two others.  

1/15/12  I watched Edward Cline and Buster Keaton's One Week.  Very possibly the strongest early Keaton short I've seen.  Full of great gags and Keaton's typical inventiveness.  

1/15/12 I watched Edward Cline and Buster Keaton's The Balloonatic. Actually a pretty boring and unfunny, early Keaton short.  

3/4/12 I watched John G Blystone and Buster Keaton's Our Hospitality.  A pretty wonderful, early Keaton feature that seems to have influenced Dead Man and again highlights how much more adventurous and natural Keaton's approach was than that of Chaplin. Not my favorite of his features, but certainly an extremely strong start for Keaton.  

4/14/12 I watched Mauritz Stiller's Sir Arne's Treasure.  Most notable is its sense of nature and Stiller's ability to infuse a haunting sense of poetry to so much of the imagery.  For an early film, it also has a real grasp of filmmaking grammar and ability to deliver a story via the medium.  A bit overlong for my taste but an interesting watch.  

5/20/12 I watched Frank Borzage's Lazybones.  Borzage's romantic streak is of interest even if at times his penchant for melodrama can become cloying.  Some nice poetic flourishes and a few really evocative long lens compositions.  

6/3/12 I watched DW Griffith's Way Down East.  Gish emotes in ways that anyone in the medium has rarely matched, and Griffith does things on cinema's 25th birthday that many storytellers still cannot rival today in terms of narrative intensity and visual efficiency.  An extremely moving early film from one of cinema's great pioneers.  

10/5/12 I watched Donald Crisp and Buster Keaton's The Navigator.  Certainly another impressive example of Keaton's visual flair and inventiveness.  But just not as funny to me as some of his greatest work.

2/24/13 I watched Buster Keaton and Edward F Cline's The Scarecrow.  Some fun gags but a story without the excitement and fully fleshed out characters and plot that we would come to get later with Keaton's features.

2/24/13 I watched Charlie Chaplin's The Pilgrim.  Some fairly good gags but also lacking the excitement of some of Chaplin's features to come.

9/3/13 I watched Thomas Edison's An Edison Album - 1893-1912.  A collection of shorts screening as part of TCM's 15 week tribute to coincide with the US Premiere of The Story of Film: An Odyssey.  Of course like any compilation such as this one, some of the films are stronger than others.  But I have never seen any of these, and I found it a real treat.  Highlight for me was probably the very last entry, the surreal short, Dream of a Rarebit Fiend.

9/5/13 I watched Auguste and Louis Lumiere's Lumiere's First Picture Shows - 1895-1897.  The first half of the program I saw almost twenty years ago in Caen but the second half of the program was brand new to me.  I never knew the Lumiere's came and shot footage in the United States.  A fascinating piece of history and one that I hope many generations to come will have the opportunity to enjoy.

9/5/13 I watched Georges Meilies' A Trip to the Moon.  Another important historical document that I am just now seeing for the first time.  Short and fairly impressive, particularly in some of Melies' vision of lunar life.

9/5/13 I watched Alice Guy Blache's Falling Leaves.  A well-executed short that manages to convey a good amount of well-earned emotion.  Blache has the reputation as perhaps the first female filmmaker, and this film is an interesting artifact because and beyond that.  

9/5/13 I watched Alice Guy Blache's Canned Harmony.  I found it a quick little comic short with a pretty smart premise.  

9/7/13 I watched the first installment of Mark Cousins' The Story of Film: An Odyssey : 1895-1918 The World Discovers A New Art Form.  Far more subjective than I had anticipated and a little quirky, I like the opinionated approach a great deal.  Cousins does not cover the films we would expect and does not seem interested in re-telling the history of film.  He seems to want to tell the history of film from his perspective, not necessarily the academic and accepted view, and I am extremely excited for the installments to follow.  I think I will be exposed to some information that is new to me (even here the fact that Hollywood initially was dominated by women) and some films hitting my radar for the first time.

9/15/13 I watched Fred Newmeyer and Sam Taylor's Never Weaken.  My first real experience with a Harold Lloyd film and although I don't like his look as much as I do that of Chaplin or Keaton, he has a very impressive feel for architectural danger and cinematic space.  I look forward to seeing more of his work.  

9/15/13 I re-watched Edward Cline and Buster Keaton's One Week.  Super inventive per my earlier notes above including a very Godardian shot of a hand coming into frame to keep the camera from viewing a woman in a bathtub.  

9/20/13 I watched Oscar Apfel and and Cecil B DeMille's The Squaw Man.  Considered as possibly the first feature in America, it shows DeMille's early skill at interesecting storylines and ability to juggle and merge them into very effective climatic rhythms by the end.

9/22/13 I watched Fred Newmeyer and Sam Taylor's Safety Last!  Lloyd is talented but his humor feels third-rate when compared to Keaton and Chaplin and his inventiveness is dwarfed when held up against Keaton's best.  But I am still glad to have seen this one, including its famous shot of Lloyd hanging from the clock hands.  

10/5/13 I watched Edward F Cline and Buster Keaton's Three Ages.  Keaton's incredible visual inventiveness is on display almost every minute, and this one has its great moments.  I just wish it were a little less orderly in its narrative approach, mixed up the time periods some since after awhile, Stone Age to Roman Age to Modern Age gets a little predictable in its repetition.  

1/4/14 I watched DW Griffith's Orphans of the Storm.  Of all the Griffith films I have seen, this one feels the most grounded, the least melodramatic, and as a result, the most affecting.  Of course the amount of cinematic language in which Griffith already seems proficient in 1921 is staggering - the close-up, cross-cutting, the tracking shot, to name but a few.  But even more impressive is the way Griffith builds suspense particularly whenever the sisters threaten to meet.  Time and time again Griffith deprives the audience of the one thing they want, putting it off, teasing the audience until the very end.  This is masterful, epic storytelling, 150 minutes that feels shaped just right.  

8/14/14 I watched Charlie Chaplin's Shoulder Arms.  Certainly worth a watch for a few great "gags".  Most memorable is Chaplin dressed up as a tree. 

8/17/14 I watched Charlie Chaplin's The Idle Class.  This early Chaplin short includes a few memorable moments such as Chaplin playing golf and his parting shot as the aristocratic father seeks Chaplin's acceptance for his apology.  

8/17/14 I watched Charlie Chaplin's A Dog's Life.  Another touching early Chaplin short that contains several strong gags, the most memorable of which is Chaplin using the arms of another man to communicate with his drunk friend.  

8/22/14 I watched Charlie Chaplin's Sunnyside.  Another early Chaplin short that has a few impressive moments but that lacks the depth, timing, and brilliance the master would go on to develop.  

9/13/14 I watched King Vidor's The Big Parade.  An incredibly ambitious and impressively executed epic from the early years of cinema.  Vidor proves to have a keen visual sense which he emphasizes again in The Crowd.  And a couple of scenes, such as the long march on the front, provide a clearer sense of WWI than anything I have yet seen.  Vidor's tone can sometimes be a little maudlin and that keeps this one from feeling great to me, but it is one that needs to be seen at least once.

9/30/19 I watched Buster Keaton's Seven Chances.  The manic energy of it reminds me of Steamboat Bill, Jr. and there are several shots that are reminiscent of the visual power of The General.  Not as non-stop entertaining as a couple of my Keaton favorites but still very enjoyable.  

11/28/21 I watched Buster Keaton and Edward F Cline's Cops.  One of the strongest Keaton shorts I have seen.  As usual when he is at his very best, the gags are inventive, free-wheeling, incredibly well-timed and bordering on dangerous.  Clocking in around twenty minutes, it does not have much variation of pace but is pretty much a sprint from the time the opening credits conclude.

1/17/22 I watched Edwin Middleton's Pool Sharks.  Interesting to see WC Fields this early in his career.  It's entertaining enough but not at the height of some of his later work.  

Favorite Film Each Year (1926-2008)

Inspired by Dave Hicks' excellent blog (http://goodfellamovies.blogspot.com/), I have decided to post on the right side of my blog a list of my favorite film each year from 1926-2008. Dave impressively takes things a step further by offering a review for each of his choices.  Hopefully, I'll be able to do the same at some point.

I hope you will all find some common ground, as well as some things perhaps you might not have seen.

*I guess I reserve the right to change these from time to time.  But, if I do, I'll note it in red.

Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans

Last night I went to the local arthouse (Robinson Film Center in Shreveport, LA) to see this new film, and honestly I didn't know what to expect.  I knew it was directed by one of the most famous German directors in the history of film, Werner Herzog.  And I knew that it was somewhat of a loose extension of an earlier, "cult" film (simply Bad Lieutenant) starring Harvey Keitel.  But that was about all I knew.

Well, all this to say, I really enjoyed it.  If you're familiar with Herzog's previous work, it certainly feels like HIS film.  It's absurd, zany, and perhaps even messy, but all in an artful and emotionally complex way. Somehow, Herzog is able to perserve the spirit of the original film while taking it somewhere that is altogether new and different.

Highlights for me include a truly wonderful Nicolas Cage performance and a fantastic score by veteran composer, Mark Isham.  More than anything though, it's the film's energy that really grabbed me.  Often times, the film ventures into places that are incredulous, confusing, even awesomely bizarre, but because it does it all with absolute conviction (think Ian Curtis dancing), it never managed to lose me.  

I usually champion films that approach the crime genre straight, not in an ironic way.  But here Herzog's treatment is so contagious that I can't help but mention it.  In many ways, it reminds me of David Cronenberg's two recent entries (A History of Violence and Eastern Promises) into the genre.  It makes me realize that it's these sort of things, great directors working with new genres, that help keep them fresh and alive.  After last night, I would be more than thrilled to see Herzog make another crime film.

Special Features

I hate to admit that I never owned a Laserdisc player.  I also hate to admit that I still don't have a Blu-Ray (but anyway that's not really the point).  I wanted to put together a post on special features, those great things that come with some of the movies nowadays -- commentaries, special behind-the-scenes documentaries, and any other thing that provides insight into a particular film that you would never have otherwise.

As I've said before, I do like lists and filters.  We can't be like the French New Wave anymore and see everything.  There's simply too much content now.  We need people we trust to point us in the right direction, to tell us how to enrich our time, and more important, how hopefully not to waste it.

It's dawned on me recently that there are some really stellar Special Features out there.  I know I'm missing some great stuff (like "What directors do the best commentaries?",  "What behind-the-scenes are must sees?", etc), but I'm not really sure how to seek them out.  So I wanted to ask if some of you would put together a list of your five favorite special features.  I'll start it out, but I'm hoping to compile a much longer list, as feedback comes in.  Here are just a few of the ones I saw and really loved recently (like I said, I find it hard to keep track):

1.  Behind-the-scenes featurette on Criterion's Permanent Vacation DVD

2.  Cast interviews on Criterion's George Washington DVD

3.  Clu Gulager's short film A Day with the Boys on Criterion's George Washington DVD (a major influence on Green's first feature)