Two fine movies in as many days. First up, The Docks of New York (1928). I’d seen this once before on video, at home, and knew I had to catch it on film, on the big screen, even if the screen at the MOMA where I saw it is not actually all that big. Still, larger than home and great to see it with an audience. A truly great silent film from Josef von Sternberg, written by Jules Furthman, right on the edge of the end of the silent era. This is a film you just don’t want to end, characters you could stay with for more, and more. George Bancroft as the toughest of the tough, Betty Compson as the young woman who attempts suicide, then finds new hope for a new life with Bancroft’s Bill Roberts, a stoker on a ship with a real heart and natural charisma beneath layers of grease and sweat. Betty Compson was in more than 200 films, stretching back to the early silent comedies of 1915 and ending in the late 1940’s, covering comedy, drama and thriller. George Bancroft later appeared alongside James Cagney in the 1939 classic Each Dawn I Die.

I think anyone seriously interested in film should make an effort to see a silent film once a year. Not only for the history (history of film and history of era), but for the lessons in story-telling, for how they work purely visually, how the need for dialogue falls away when you get into the rhythm. A number of scenes in Docks are made subtle and wondrous by the direction and choices of what to show; in one, someone is shot but we never see the gun nor “hear” the gun go off, we simply deduce what has happened. The screening I attended had live piano accompaniment by Ben Model, nicely done, occasionally not quite matching the emotion on the screen but definitely more enjoyable than the Wurlitzer organ, which is typically used for silent films and becomes so quickly predictable and tiresome. Try watching one at home with your own choice of (instrumental) music; Bill Evans or Coltrane, quiet in the background.

Visit these great websites for more information on the history and DVD releases of silent films:
http://www.silentera.com/

http://www.csse.monash.edu.au/~pringle/silent/

http://www.cinemaweb.com/silentfilm/bookshelf/


The next night, I raced from work to see Broken Lullaby (The Man I Killed), directed by the great Ernst Lubitsch. I got there just as the film began to unspool, the theater at MOMA amazingly filled for a Monday night screening of a pretty obscure film. Perfect framing, pans, zooms, use of montage: the famous Lubitsch touch. An anti-war film set during and after WWI, notable for the fact that it was released in 1932 and references the “inevitable” next war. I’ll go see anything with Lionel Barrymore, a minor role for him here but always worth watching and studying how he moves, how he inhabits his character. Always believable, always likable. If you haven’t seen Frank Capra’s You Can’t Take It With You (1938), it’s really worth a rent; Barrymore at his crustiest and most lovable.

This particular film was a bit slow at times but filled with interesting images. One scene, where shop owners and nosy neighbors peek out of their windows one by one to spy on a young couple walking through their quiet German town is so deftly handled it’s a small lesson in use of the camera for aspiring directors, an amazing tracking shot. Visually a good example of Lubitsch’s impeccable direction if not as enjoyable overall as, say, The Shop Around The Corner (194) or To Be Or Not To Be (1942).