Steamboat Bill, Jr. (1928)

Country: USA

Released: May 12th, 1928

Genre: Comedy

Directed by: Charles Reisner

Produced by: Joseph M. Schenck

Written by: Carl Harbaugh

Dammit Keaton what the hell? You didn't tell me you had another movie on this list. I already wrote that whole schultzy goodbye for you back in The General review! Way to make be look like a total jackass, you jerk.

So yeah, as is evident Keaton has another movie on this list. And as is evident by my intro I was not aware of that. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, after all, as has been established numerous times already, he was one of the most important artists of the 20th century. Not that I'm complaining or anything, I'll take any excuse to watch Keaton. This one will probably be his last movie though, as after producing Steamboat Bill Jr. he moved to MGM where he lost all creative control. Said loss of control was also why he briefly descended into alcoholism.

Oh Hollywood, you are a cancer.

But you sure as hell make great movies sometimes, and fortunatly Steamboat Bill Jr. is no exception.

The movie follows Keaton as Bill Jr., a young artist from Boston who travels to a backwater town to visit his father (Ernest Torrence). William Sr. is the conductor of a steamboat and a manly man, who finds Bill's artsy ways to be unbecoming of a proper man, especially since he wants Bill to take over the business. As I write this I'm suddenly realizing this is the exact same goddamned plot as The Kid. Was this just a thing back then? Like, were stories about pansy comedians becoming men the 1920s version of superhero movies? To be honest Keaton pulls it off better, but to be fair that's probably because he was genetically designed in a lab to be the most sympathetic looking creature on Earth. Anyways, Bill falls for Kitty King (Marion Byron), the daughter of rival steamboat owner John James King (Tom McGuire). Bill, William, and John end up scuffling over their steamboat businesses, which lands the latter two in prison. The two try to bust out, but during their escape the town is hit by a cyclone, tearing buildings from their foundations and endangering the townsfolk. The film ends with Bill saving William, Kitty, and John from the cyclone's wrath, reconciling William and John and redeeming Bill in the eyes of his father. 

It's very difficult to talk about Steamboat Bill Jr. because short of just describing the individual scenes there isn't anything I can say that hasn't been said in other entries. It made me laugh throughout, I think that should be enough of an endorsement for a comedy. Besides that though there's not much else to point out. Everything is top notch, but what else could you expect from Keaton? There is also the problem that this movie follows The General, which frankly does most everything this movie does better. Well actually that's not entirely true, and it's fairly dumb to make that assertion now that I think about it. After all, a comedy is first and foremost about the jokes, and it's not like Steamboat is just a rehash of the same jokes in The General. In fact I would argue that Steamboat is funnier than its predecessor. However where the General succeeds is not in the jokes themselves but in their conveyance; it's staging and editing just felt more vivid making it a more compelling piece, which is why it is remembered today as Keaton's magnum opus. 

Does that discount Steamboat? Hell no! Even the most competent masterpiece (which I would argue Steamboat is) would look subpar when stacked up against "one of the greatest films ever made." Keaton still has some tricks up the old sleeve to make Steamboat feel groundbreaking. One such trick? The first instance of meta humour on the list so far! During a scene wherein William takes Bill to buy a new hat they start trying off a slew of hats to see what looks best, including a straw boater and a bowler hat...

...both of which they agree don't quite work. It's a cute, subtle nod to Chaplin and Lloyd that I thought was really funny.

The final cyclone sequence is also something to behold. The whole town gets blown to shit, and they literally tear down half a dozen buildings for the sake of a few gags. It's a level of commitment and technical prowess that many filmmakers today can't grasp despite having hundreds of millions of dollars at their fingertips, and Keaton deserves a life-sized Oscar of himself for being able to make an action sequence in 1928 that not only holds up today, but puts most modern filmmakers to shame. Watching Keaton running through collapsing buildings is exhilarating, and the scene is also notable for giving birth to Keaton's most iconic gag.

Steamboat Billy Jr. (which, fun fact, was the inspiration for Steamboat Willie, Mickey Mouse's debut) is a great movie. It's funny, clever, well shot, and clearly has a lot of heart put into it. I don't think there's much else that needs to be said.

La passion de Jeanne d'Arc/The Passion of Joan of Arc

Country: France

Released: April 21st, 1928

Genre: Historical Fiction, Drama

Directed by: Carl Theodor Dreyer

Produced by: Carl Theodor Dreyer

Written by: Joseph Delteil & Carl Theodor Dreyer

La passion de Jeane d'Arc is a historical retelling of the final days of the fifteenth century French military leader, Joan of Arc. For the uninitiated Joan of Arc, a.k.a The Maid of Orleans, was the daughter of minor village officials in the Dutchy of Bar who, after claiming to be ordained by God to drive the English from France, became a military leader and war hero during the Hundred Years War. She was eventually captured by the English and burned at the stake as a heretic. After being canonized by the catholic church she passed into the annals of legend and remains a hero in France to this day. 

Jean d'Arc, much like Napoleon, had a rough restoration process with thirty minutes of the original footage still lost. Also like Napoleon the film is less about exploring a real, historical person than about aggrandizing a legend, to the point that it makes me wonder whether historical nationalism became a large trend in French cinema during the late 1920s or if these movies were the only examples of their kind. In any case, Jean d'Arch chronicles Joan's final trial and eventual execution, leaving the rest of her exploits off screen. In that sense the movie bears a striking resemblance to The Passion of the Christ. Now I have yet to see The Passion so this is pure conjecture on my part but from what I know of Mel Gibson's piece it would not surprise me if he based his original concept to some extent on Jeane d'Arc.

As for the film itself it's a movie that rests entirely on it's lead. Renée Jeanne Falconetti is running an acting marathon here as Joan. I don't think it's much of an exaggeration to say that almost thirty percent of the film consists of closeups of her reactions. She is at once forced to be divine, tragic, and unyielding all at once, and whether she pulls it off is really up to debate. For myself while I was initially a little turned off by some of her choices (specifically her habit of widening her eyes in this near constant thousand yard stare) I found that as the film progressed I became more and more appreciative of her skill. Falconetti puts her all into it, offering one of the most vulnerable and frankly emotionally open performances I've seen. It's difficult to measure an actor's success but I find that a good criteria would be if they made me forget I was watching a performance, and under those terms I would say that Falconetti succeeds. Watching her struggle immersed me into the world of Joan of Arc and allowed me to connect with the figure on a tangible level. One of my favourite moments was when a clergymen trying her asks if god had long hair. She can't help but smile in utter amusement at the silliness of the question.

I mentioned a prevalence of closeups and I was not kidding. If closeups of Joan make up thirty percent of the movie than closeups of other characters make up the other seventy. The camera is constantly jumping from one face to the next in an effort to tell the story entirely through reaction shots. Normally this would feel claustrophobic and, if done really poorly, obnoxious. Instead however each shot feels like a Northern renaissance painting come to life, and I must commend Dreyer on the boldness of the choice.

This style perfectly reinforces the central theme of the movie, namely that of Joan of Arc as a allegory for Jesus. In retrospect I guess the allusions to The Passion of the Christ were actually quite appropriate. Except whereas The Passion was an anti-Semetic vehicle for Mel Gibson expose his creepy devotion to biblical torture porn through (I'm told), Jean d'Arc is a tragic tale of a young girl trying to reconcile her faith while being manipulated and lied to by said faith's very authority. The final scene in the movie, where Jean is sentenced to death and the clergymen who gave the order suddenly realize the horror they've committed is subtle and moving. 

All this being said the film suffers from the same issue The Docks of New York does, namely that it's an extremely slow burn for a plot that is, frankly, rather straightforward. What I'm saying is that Dreyer could of told the story in half the time and I don't think I would have lost anything. One can make the argument that the journey itself is entertaining enough, but without any dialogue or even any music (the original score was lost and there haven't been replacements) I started to feel it's length. Still, I was invested through most of it, and Falconetti's performance itself is worth seeing. 

The Docks of New York (1928)

Country: USA

Released: September 16th, 1928

Genre: Drama

Directed by: Josef von Sternberg

Produced by: Josef von Sternberg

Written by: Jules Furthman

Watching The Docks of New York made me realize that it's been a while since I saw a movie on this list that made a huge impression on me. What I mean is that there hasn't been a film since perhaps The General that's evoked some deep emotional response, whether it be absolute praise (like Dr. Caligari or The Thief of Baghdad) or pure loathing (a la Dr. Mabuse and The Birth of a Nation). Sure The Unknown was pretty great but beyond that most movies have largely been very lukewarm.

As you may have already guessed, The Docks of New York is unfortunately no different.

Docks basically tells the story of the most aloof group of people trying to be romantic with one another. Seriously, if these people kept their cards any closer to their chest they'd have to get a doctor to fish them out of their lungs. The film tells the story of Bill Roberts (George Bancroft), a rough and tumble sailor who don't take no sass from no one. Bill is manly. That is his personality in a nutshell. He serves to be the film's proto-male and nothing more, allowing male audiences to project their fantasies onto his inflated (and frankly archaic) model of hyper-masculinity. He regularly picks fights, which he always wins, drinks like a camel, brandishes tattoos on his pronounced biceps, and is about as warm and emotive as a brick. He is a MAN, back in a time when being a MAN meant being strong, rowdy, and emotionally distant. He meets a mysterious young girl named Mae (Betty Compson) and slowly falls for her. And when I say she's mysterious I mean the CIA couldn't figure out the bitch's backstory if they took a car battery to the director's balls. She keeps hinting at some dark, mysterious backstory, which is heavily emphasized as a central part of her character what with her attempted suicide and what not, but they never explain what it is. Like never. There's mystery and then there's cinematically cockteasing your audience and frankly I eventually got kind of sick of it. But anyways, in the pattern of old-timey relationships Bill and Mae get married after their first date. Then... that's it really. The rest of the movie is basically answering whether Bill can abandon his lone-wolf lifestyle and learn to care. Short answer, "yes."

Docks is a great movie that suffers from one fatal flaw: it's boring.

This is weird because nearly everything is done right. The characters are interesting, at least at first when their mystery still hasn't lost it's novelty. Bancroft and Compson have pretty decent chemistry, and I gotta say that Compson is quite alluring. She has a very "old-hollywood" cuteness about her that makes for some appealing eye-candy.

I mean she's no Rudolf Valentino but I'll take it.

Furthermore the directing is also very well done. There's a vividness to the way shots are composed that grabbed my attention. Shots like this:

this

and this...

... all caught my eye because I've grown accustom to not seeing depth in my movies. The extra dimension couples with a mobile camera, that'll pan across a rowdy bar scene in a single, uninterrupted shot, to breath life and mobility into otherwise stale scenes. There were moments that looked directly inspired by Der Letzte Mann, and I certainly appreciate the effort.

Lastly the aesthetic is really well executed. The aloofness of the characters carries a weighty world-weariness heavily reminiscent of later noir films. Watching Bill and Mae interact occasionally felt almost like watching Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman trade sharp banter on Casablanca. 

So then why is this film boring?

Simply put, it drags on. A lot. Even with a run time of under ninety minutes it was very clear that there just wasn't enough content to justify the length. Emotional states are left to drag on, and while that may have worked in a slow-burn movie experience kind of way there just isn't enough plot to back it up. It certainly has its livelier moments, sure. I personally loved when Bill and Mae get married and they bring in this strict looking priest (Gustav von Seyffertitz) to mediate.

One would expect a stern-faced man like that to reject such a farcical wedding (after all the only attendants were horny drunks yelling and getting plastered over the proceedings), and initially he does. But when he sees Mae's disappointed face his heart softens and he goes through with the affair, instantly making him the most compelling character for me. 

But these moments are few and far between. Truly this feels like a movie that's begging for dialogue. I would not be surprised if they had originally planned to use synchronized audio but half-way through preproduction the studio decided to slash the budget and they couldn't afford it. Watching Mae and Bill have an actual conversation would have allowed their banter to carry the slower moments. Unfortunately the film explores certain emotions that are just too complex to express solely visually, and the result is that Docks lacks that extra smidge of emotionally heft.

The Docks of New York is the most interesting boring movie I've seen. Quite the dubious honour, I'm aware, but no movie has yet to come so close to being great only to just miss is.

The Crowd (1928)

Country: USA

Released: February 18th, 1928

Genre: Romance

Directed by: King Vidor

Produced by: Irving Thalberg

Written by: King Vidor & John V.A Weaver

Aziz Ansari's latest book, Modern Romance, is a strange little product. Rather than being the kind of comically autobiographical piece expected of a stand-up comedian, Modern Romance is an almost anthropological study of courtship in the digital age. Backed by data from a slew of academics ranging from psychologists to sociologists Ansari essentially outlines an evolution romance up to our contemporary, social media saturated world.

I bring this up because watching The Crowd reminded me of one of the central points of Modern Romance: that romance and social norms regarding searching for a partner have changed so dramatically in the last decade that they bear virtually no resemblance to previous romantic traditions. Nowhere is this more evident than about twenty minutes into the film when protagonist John Sims (James Murray) asks love-interest Mary (Eleanor Boardman) to marry him as they're heading home from their first date together.

Pictured: John performing a victory fist-pump just after getting engaged

But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

The Crowd is the story of John and Mary's relationship over the course of about a decade. In that span of time we witness everything from their first date to the birth of their first child. I'm almost tempted to label the film "slice of life" because there isn't much more to it than that. It really is just the story of a couple struggling to make the best life for themselves in the big city. Despite such a simple premise however The Crowd still manages to be a tonal mess, never quite figuring out what it wants to be. It knows that it wants to tell the story of this couple, that much is clear, but beyond that whether it wants to do so as a romantic comedy or gut-wrenching tragedy is up in the air.

The first hour of the movie is ostensibly just watching a bunch of jerks hang out and bicker. Seriously, most every character in this film is a douche, especially John. I legitimately yelled "what a douche!" at my screen in amused disbelief. I can't exactly remember why, but I know it was because John was being a massive tool about something. Hell they ocassionally pepper in scenes that serve no purpose but to highlight what dicks these people are. At one point John and Mary become absolutely terrified of a black guy on a train for absolutely no reason. Why? I mean yes I know this is the 1920s but come on, they live in the city I'm sure they've seen tons of black people just chilling. Why does this particular dude make them shit their pants in terror? He's not doing anything.

 Honestly save for a few chuckle-worthy this portion of the movie is simply... odd. It never became clear if it was trying to be a romantic comedy or if it was just a simple, realistic portrayal of a couple during the tale end of the Jazz Era.

Unfortunately it turns out that a realistic couple during the tale end of the Jazz Era just sorta fights a lot. We get to see them fight in their apartment, at the beach, next to Niagara falls. Oh the places you'll go on this tour of short-fuses and bitchiness! I mean it really is just a lot of constant fighting. Geez, it's almost as if marrying someone after one date isn't a good idea after all!

Alright fine, that's unfair. It's pointless to project contemporary expectations onto past rules of engagement (the romantic kind, not the killy kind). While today we prioritize compatibility and the search for a 'soulmate,' the reality is that prior to, like, the 1970s and 1980s marriage was 'just what people did.' You married because it was what was expected of you, and not doing so was viewed unfavourably. In that kind of environment why not marry the guy you just met?

But back to the movie. Things take a very sharp tonal turn two-thirds of the way through when John and Mary's youngest is hit by a truck and killed. Now make no mistake this is a tragic, heart-wrenching scene that marks a tilt in the film from light-hearted fluff to humanizing struggle. That being said, watching the kid get run over was one of the funniest fucking things I've ever scene. I don't know if they were short on film or time at that point of the production but the take they decided to use is terrible, and it makes me wonder why they didn't use another one. The little girl is off marker so the truck has to deliberately swerve to "accidentally" hit her so that it looks like the driver went really out of his way to fuck up a child. It's great!

Because of this hilarious and horrible mishap John falls into a deep depression, forcing him to quit work, which sends his family into a financial spiral that culminates in John attempting suicide.

Ha ha ha... classic.

Jokes aside John's suicide scene is deeply moving. After chickening out he slowly walks home in tears with his son, and the two just talk about stuff. They have a real heart to heart and it's executed masterfully. It's a real tearjerker despite highlighting the shocking disregard for children characters in this movie seem to have (I mean, he tries killing himself with his son just a few feet away). Then again I am a sucker for schmultz. The problem through is that everything before this darker turn is mostly fluff. Until the film takes the dive into darker waters it is basically just a very light romantic-comedy, and while that certainly has it's charms the characters are nowhere near likeable enough to make such stakeless proceedings compelling. It's not bad by any stretch but when compared to the last thirty minutes its shortcomings are quite apparent.

Still, Vidor is a talented filmmaker and for all my complaints I did enjoy the movie. The beginning is amusing enough and gave me a few genuine chuckles. But really, it's the last third that really shines. Watch the whole thing if you have the time, but otherwise skip to the fifty minute mark and enjoy a short film about loss, depression, and hope.

Oktyabr: Desyat' dney kotorye potryasli mir/October: Ten Days that Shook the World (1928)

Country: Soviet Union

Released: January 20th, 1928

Genre: Historical Fiction, Propaganda

Directed by: Grigori Aleksandrov & Sergei Eisenstein

Produced by: N/A

Written by: Grigori Aleksandrov & Sergei Eisenstein

An oft forgotten fact about Communism was that Marx held very little esteem for peasants. This comes as a surprise to many and naturally so; most if not all socialist revolutions in the 20th century were peasant revolutions. Russia had only abolished serfdom just fifty years prior to the October Revolution and most of it's population was still rural by 1917, yet it would become Communism's standard bearer. This was far from Marx's intention; as outlined in his Communist Manifesto Marx stated that a country first needed to undergo a bourgeois revolution to develop the wealth, infrastructure, and industry necessary in the formation of an urban proletariat. Thus Communism was very much intended to be an urban revolution, hence why Marx's ideal settings for the revolution were developed nations like Britain or his native Germany. 

Looking back at the history of Communism, with all it's atrocities, inefficiencies, and failures, it's easy to forget that the movement really seemed like it was being carried by a power greater than itself. The Bolsheviks were a minority faction during the Russian Revolution, smaller than their rival Mensheviks or the loyalist forces, yet they still managed to triumph and form the Soviet Union by the 1920s. Meanwhile Castro started his revolution with twelve freedom fighters and a boat while Mao lost over 80,000 troops during the Long March and was left with a few paltry thousand to fight the millions of Chiang Kai-sheck, yet both overthrew their enemies and established governments that still exist today. Yes, as archaic as it may seem to us in the present Communism was a powerful force that accomplished amazing feats and inspired millions.

Oktyabr is a celebration of this power. It is a propaganda film in the basest sense. Like Eisenstein's previous works Strike and The Battleship Potemkin there are no main characters or even much of a plot. Instead we are presented with a narrative: "Revolution!", who's only characters are the political factions struggling for control of Russia. For Oktyabr the narrative framework is the October Revolution, when Lenin lead his Socialists in the overthrow of Tzar Nicholas II.

I feel deeply guilty over my experience with Oktyabr because much like many other films on this list I just didn't watch it. I saw it but I didn't see it, and unlike Sunrise or Dr. Mabuse it truly felt like I was missing something important. Because of this I question my intentions for this blog going forward. If I can't pay attention to these films then what is the point? I thought I loved movies but I had always been a second-hand movie fan, by which I mean I experienced cinema not through the actual watching film but through the collective discussion. "Oh, you haven't heard of Eraserhead? That's a classic! I mean I haven't seen it yet but I totally will because I hear nothing but good things. If only people would support good movies like Whiplash or Drive instead of Adam Sanlder's crap. What fools!" This kind of second-hand viewing gave me a misguided sense of snobbish elitism to stroke my ego with. Why watch the movies and formulate your own opinions when you can just regurgitate experts' assessments and look smarter than everyone else? But now that I'm actually confronted with the films I used to blindly praise I find myself bored. I can't help muse whether it's film fatigue or a dreaded realization that I just didn't like film as much as I thought I did, or worse: that I'm not as smart as my sixteen year old self thought I was.

The truth of the matter is that I am not a fan of film. I am a fan of storytelling. I enjoy characters and their struggles and the themes that permeate them, regardless of the medium. Stories, emotion, humanity, that is what draws me. Visuals in and of themselves, unless employed comedically, do little for me. It's why I always play video-games for their stories and why films like Avatar or Gravity or Oktyabr do so little for me, because their appeal rests solely on their visuals. Film scholars may appreciate Eisenstein's techniques on a deeper level, but I am not a film scholar.

Yet I wish I was. I wish I could put names to the shots on display in Oktyabr, and I wish I knew the parlance to describing the visual techniques employed because they are breathtaking. This is truly Eisenstein's greatest achievement yet. There's a daringness to the film that cannot be overstated. While other filmmakers cautiously used editing to form a cohesive narrative, Eisenstein decided not to tell a story but to convey emotion. The machine gun pace of his cuts leave the viewer with a series of disparate images that when pieced together form a primal feeling. Soldiers stamping their feet, rifles being raised in battle, shadows fleeing from death, a leering face mocking the audience, anger, triumph, disgust, fear. These fire through the screen in seconds, imprinting naught but the basest of feelings. These often give way to a single, grand view of a cityscape or of thousands rushing through a plaza, jerking the viewer away from the assaultive intimacy and letting the frenetic swirl of emotions come crashing down.

There is also a sophisticated understanding of visual metaphor on display. Shots of battle are intercut with portraits or statues in the Winter Palace, contrasting the art of the Tzar's sanctum with the violence outside. As cannons roar in the courtyard glass chandeliers shake inside, slowly preparing to collapse. And there's something tragic, almost subversive about it all. As a I saw the angry proletariat storm the palace and overthrow their capitalist overlords I felt stabbed by melancholy. I'm certain that's not what the filmmakers intended as this is a propaganda piece and the capitalists are still cartoonishly evil, but as I watched footage of the palace's riches I did not see cruel, uncarring decadence like the average Russian in 1928 must have seen, the same decadence that fuelled such atrocities as Bloody Sunday or the foolhardy Imperialist escapades against Japan and Germany. No, what I saw was the end of any era, and it filled me with saudade. 

Nicholas II was nothing if not a tragic figure. Often regarded as a gentle soul and family man thrust in the role of general, living in the shadow of rulers past and always striving to live up to a legacy he probably never wanted in the first place. That yearning became his downfall. That's why despite appearing only through portraits and ostensibly to be condemned, Nicholas was the most compelling character in the movie. I'm sure that says something about me but I'm not sure what. Maybe that I'm a Royalist? I don't know.

I wish I enjoyed this movie. I wish I could end this song of it's praises by declaring it one of the best film viewing experiences of my life. But the truth is thirty minutes in I became bored and stopped paying attention. With no story or characters through which to anchor the visuals the film couldn't hold my interest. So if like me you need a narrative to grab you than I suggest you skip Oktyabr. But if you love film, love the science behind it, love the art that goes into editing and camera work, and love the endless possibilities of a visual medium, then please give Oktyabr a look. You won't be disappointed.

The Kid Brother (1927)

Country: USA

Released: January 22nd, 1927

Genre: Comedy

Directed by: Ted Wilde & J.A. Howe

Produced by: Harold Lloyd

Written by: N/A

Fear not my faithful readers. I'm sorry who am I kidding? My faithful reader. Despite what the poster above may imply The Kid Brother is not some kind of old-timey BDSM, fetish flick (as much as I wish it was), but rather is simply the comedic vehicle through which I imagine Lloyd fired his entire marketing team.

I feel kind of dumb for including Safety Last as a special feature a while back under the assumption that the list was devoid of any of Lloyd's work. I suppose I just didn't notice that The Kid Brother was on the list. This does however raise a poignant question as to the criteria the list uses to choose it's films. I've asked this question before but it never ceases to baffle me. Why is a film like Safety Last, arguably Lloyd's most famous piece, omitted while The Kid Brother, a more obscure film, is chosen to represent one of the greatest comedians of the silent era? Is because of it's influence on film? If so then why are recent flicks like Guardians of the Galaxy and The Theory of Everything (which if my memory serves me was regarded as Oscar-baity drivel) featured on the list? Are films chosen solely for their technique and cinematography? Is that really the best method through which to decide The 1001 Movies You MUST See Before You Die? I suppose we'll never learn the great Lord Schnieder's ways. For now all we can do is have faith in his divine brilliance.

The Kid Brother stars Harold Lloyd as down on his luck, scrappy, puppy-eyed dreamer who tries to woo his love interest while avoiding the machinations of a pair of brutish bullies yadda yadda yadda. Look we've all been here before. This is the most formulaic narrative in the history of comedies and was perfected and promptly run into the ground by the likes of Keaton, Chaplin, and of course Lloyd himself. 

But fine, I guess I might as well give a little more detail for the plot. Just because the setup is generic doesn't mean they can't add a fresh twist. 

Lloyd plays a character named Harold, the youngest of a family of manly masculine men who spend every testosterone spewing hour of their lives being manly, which in turn means being dicks to Harold. Honestly his whole family looks like the result of an amorous affair between Dolph Lundgren and the horse-punching ogre from Blazing Saddles. Anyways after a traveling medicine show arrives to town Lloyd falls for one of their employees, the shy and lovely Mary (Jobyna Ralston). Mary also falls for Harold after he saves her from one of her coworker's attempts to rape her, which they naturally play off as nothing more than creepy and uncouth. Oh oldey times, how you make me feel better about the present. After an accident in which the medicine cart is burned to the ground the nefarious rapist robs the town's funds. Harold's father (Walter James) is blamed for the robbery as he was the sherif in charge of protecting the money, and is sentenced to be hung. Thus Harold is in a race against time to find the fiends and retrieve the money to save his father. Which he obviously does, I mean duh, prompting his family to finally accept him.

So the movie is fun. Yup, it's a fun little flick. Like I mentioned in my Safety Last review that was kind of Lloyd's schtick. He wasn't as groundbreaking as Keaton or as iconic as Chaplin. He made competent films that where and are enjoyable if a little safe. That being said The Kid Brother is noticeably a little more, how can I say this... gritty? I don't know it felt like Lloyd was trying to go for something more adventurous than Safety Last and the result is a more ambitious piece. For example the film's last fifteen minutes is an extended fight sequence between Harold and Rapist (who's name I cannot find, sorry). There are very few gags during this time, particularly around the end where Harold gets the shit beat out of him. I was surprised. I was expecting another clever little escape like one of the many he pulls throughout most of the movie, but instead Harold legitimately is hurt and almost killed in a no holds barred fight with his antagonist that comes off as somewhat dark. Hell Harold straight up tries to drown the guy to death, and to quote Jeff Winger from Community, there's nothing "mad, camp, or whacky about it." 

I need to be clear that I don't mean for any of this to sound negative because I actually really liked the darker tilt. It shows a level of maturity both on the part of Lloyd and on the part of Harold, who has to confront his demons to grow as a character (even if it is along traditional norms of masculinity; fight the patriarchy, soul sister!). It works because surprisingly it doesn't feel like a jarring tonal shift but rather a natural escalation. Also I believe this is the first extended fight sequence I've seen on this list so far, and I got to say I'm impressed by its intricacy. It doesn't fall into a lazy trap of having two guys wail on each other and instead uses props and creative choreography to make the whole thing quite thrilling. In fact the only time two guys slug it out is at the end of the film when a newly confident Harold confronts his former bully. The fight is cleverly obscured by dust and is left to the audience's imagination, thus keeping Harold's more innocent appeal while also offering a nice visual gag.

It's not all perfect though. The middle is slow, and there were a few set-pieces that I just didn't "get." One of these is when Harold brings Mary to his home. His brothers freak out and the next five minutes is a comedic chase wherein they try to avoid being spotted by Mary. At first I was utterly baffled as to why they were panicking until I guessed that it was because they were "indecent." This turned out to be right on the money, but they were wearing long, fairly well-covering nightgowns and there was no indication that those were improper or anything. Chalk it up to a difference in values I suppose. Also when Harold's dad is accused of the robbery I didn't really buy the justification. I mean the whole basis for calling him a thieve and readying him for the gallows was that the money disappeared while he was guarding it. Is that really enough to try to kill the guy who's been honourably keeping the peace for years? 

This is obviously a nitpick but it really took me out of the film.

Also not to go off on a tangent but why aren't comedies set in the past anymore? These days if a movie isn't set in the present or very near past it's either a feel-good movie or historical fiction (i.e. biopic or war film). It's clear from movies like The Kid Brother, Our Hospitality, and The General that it was common to set comedies in the past. Why isn't that still done? Perhaps it's easier in a silent film where comedy isn't built on contemporary dialogue. Then again I guess the 70s and 80s are still fodder for jokes. Ah well, just a thought I had.

Overall I can safely say that I preferred The Kid Brother over Safety Last. Even though it felt like a smaller picture in terms of scale and there's less 'jokes per second' it's more mature. Harold's character feels more sympathetic. Lloyd's always imbued his heroes with some Tom Sawyer-esque mischief. Chaplin and Keaton are innocent albeit clumsy schmucks who have misfortune thrust upon them while Harold is often the cause of his hijinks. While that's certainly present in The Kid Brother it feels less emphasized than in Safety Last, where Lloyd sometimes came across as an asshole and totally deserving of all the trouble he suffered. Here though he manages to play it off like he's responding to an unfortunate environment, which makes for a much more sympathetic and likeable protagonist. So yeah, The Kid Brother is an enjoyable little movie that gave me a few chuckles, check it out.

Napoléon (1927)

Country: France

Released: April 7th, 1927

Genre: Biographical, Historical Fiction

Directed by: Abel Gance

Produced by: Abel Gance

Written by: Abel Gance

Studying to become a historian was a stupid decision. Not because of the poor job-prospects or mind-numbing tedium of much of the work but because the effect it's had on my movie watching. Although on second thought the latter two should probably be of bigger concern to me. In any case, the problem with studying history or any specialized field for that matter is that when Hollywood tries to  be all hip and talk about it they usually screw the pooch so hard the pooch needs ointment and my friends need stop wringing my neck, because after hearing me say "actually in Napoleonic France..." for the hundredth time would trigger anyone into trying to strangle me. Napoléon isn't the most historically accurate flick, unsurprising considering that it was filmed at a time when "history" meant jerking off you're nationalism boner and telling everyone how gosh darned special your country is. And I promise that will be the last sexual analogy I will use for the rest of this review.

This will also be the last I talk about the film's merit as a historical piece because my speciality is in Meji Japan and not in Napoleonic Europe. So unless Schneider comes down with a case of the stupids and decides to put The Last Samurai on his list it seems that you'll all be missing out on my smug, sanctimonious history lectures. What I will say though is that the film is somewhat immune to any historical criticism because the actual title is Napoléon vu par Abel Gance/Napoleon as seen by Abel Gance, thus making it's more fictionalized approach clearer. I must say, wish modern movies did this instead of that whole "based on a true story" cop-put. See, by saying "based" on a true story the filmmakers get a carte blanche to pretty much make shit up, which is why The Imitation Game can be largely B.S. and still get nominated for an Oscar.

But that's enough historical bitching for one review, let's get onto today's movie. Napoléon is a biopic (probably the first of its kind) about Napoleon. That's it. I mean, I don't know what else anyone could expect, the movie is called Napoleon, it ain't going to be about John freaking Landis or whatever celebrity makes this joke funnier. If you don't know who Napoleon Bonaparte is then please stop reading my blog and open a god-damned book.
The film follows the would be world conqueror from his childhood up to his successful Italian campaign, largely leaving the rest of his life untold. Probably a good decision as this is clearly trying to celebrate the French nation, and watching a bunch of Frenchmen slowly freeze to death in Russia is not hella patriotic unless you're eating borscht. At this point I should mention that the version I watched was the original restoration headed by Francis Ford Coppola, which clocks in at about four hours, one hour and a half short of the original run-time. The latest restoration supposedly has most of the original movie but to my knowledge it was never released to the masses, and even if it was I was unable to find it. To be honest though I didn't look very hard. Look, watching the four hours director's cut of The Return of the King is already hard enough there's no way in hell I'm putting myself through another Les Vampires unless I absolutely have to.

Even at the "shortened" running time the movie was a slong. I could not get invested in Napoléon. Much like Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans there was something about the movie that disconnected me from the experience. Maybe it was the overt nationalism of the piece, the obnoxious editing style, or the length. Or maybe it was that everything felt clinical; these weren't characters on the screen these were Historical Figures, pawns caught in the unebbing flow of history that's being projected to us on the big screen. This is not the story of people but the story of legends, devoid of any humanity. Napeoleon is not a man but a symbol for the director's political message, which is "Vive la France!" The true main character here is the nation and I must say she is a cold mistress.

Nothing felt personal so there was nothing worth investing oneself in. Compare that to contemporary historical movies. Characters like Tadamichi Kuribayashi in Letters From Iwo Jima or T.E. Lawrence in Lawrence of Arabia are imbued with humanity through their flaws and their personalities, adding heft what's going on around them. The characters in Napoleon by contrast are caricatures, either embodying a single personality trait or, in Napoleon's case, being flat out flawless. He commands authority and brings a nation together through his iron will, braving a thunderstorm in a dingy using a French Tricolore as a sail and running down the enemies of the Republic in a patriotic fervor. One of the sillier instances of this is early in the movie when a young Napoleon takes a class on the "Geography of Islands" and is taught about Saint Helena. The chalk drawing of the island looms over him and he looks visibly uncomfortable under it's shadow. Are we really supposed to believe such a foreshadowing event happened in little Napoleon's life? Of course not, because this isn't a story about the man but about his legend and the legend of the French Revolution, and the film feels almost celebratory in it's stiffness. Perhaps it is a personal thing or perhaps I just didn't realize the films intentions until it had already lost me but the sterility of the legend just didn't do it for me. I enjoy a little humanity in my characters, which is why my favourite parts were the brief moments when Napoleon's personality shinned through; moments like when he makes the chaplain speed through his wedding vows to appease his excitable impatience, or when he barks "olives, bread, and silence" to an inn keep he doesn't recognize from his childhood, or anytime his puppy dog affection for Josephine (Gina Manès) is displayed. Sadly these moments are few and far between and we are instead largely left with a sensationalized portrait of the man.

That being said Albert Dieudonné is phenomenal as Napoleon. He successfully conveys the heft demanded of the role, and despite a couple of hiccups in the performance early on his presence on screen is always felt, which is the most important part of portraying such a mythologized figure. Not once did I ever feel like Napoleon wasn't in control; even when imprisoned and virtually at the mercy of Robespierre, Dieudonné gives the impression that Napoleon knows exactly what he's doing. All in all it was a performance that left an impression that I couldn't shake, and any shortcomings with the character are not to be heaped on Diedonné's shoulders.

As for the filmmaking itself as I mentioned the editing is obnoxious. How obnoxious? Well, let's just say I fantasized about punching Abel Gance in the throat on more than one occasion. Gance's favourite trick is rapid-fire editing that feels like an early version of shaky cam. Whenever a crowd got rowdy or a riot broke out the film decided to go into epileptic shock, making me feel disoriented and confused. Now I understand that that was the intention, but Gance pushes it to flat out incoherence, effectively taking me out of the experience. Had he shown just a smidge more restraint it would have been far more effective. It truly feels like Gance is just experimenting with what he can do in an editing bay. Now that's all well and good but the problem is that most of the time it doesn't work. The final battle sequence for example does this baffling thing where it splits into three separate screens simultaneously showing three different pieces of footage. The choice is seemingly pointless until they tint the three screens to portray the Tricolore. And so the film ends with Napoleon literally conquering Italy over through a French flag filter and with French audiences feeling slightly better about throwing millions of their boys to the slaughter not ten years prior. Huzzah?
Perhaps I'm being too harsh, afterall one can really feel the influence such techniques much have had on subsequent films. However this is not review on Napoléon's legacy but on the film itself, and sadly when seen through contemporary eyes such techniques just don't hold up.

And that's it really. Much of it is really hit or miss. The miniatures used when Napoleon is sailing through a storm is cool but the tinted film is distracting, Dieudonné's Napoleon is great but the film's reverence for the figure is awkward, the scenes of the French Revolution are interesting but it expects the audience to have a lot of prior knowledge on the event to fully understand everything. So I suppose ultimately the best way to describe Napoléon is, a remarkable cinematic achievement that unfortunately has not aged well.

The Jazz Singer (1927)

Country: USA

Released: October 6th, 1927

Genre: Musical

Directed by: Alan Crosland

Produced by: Darryl F. Zanuck

Written by: Alfred A. Cohn

I was worried going into The Jazz Singer. It's reputation is one similar to that of The Birth of a Nation: An outstanding landmark cinematic technology (in The Jazz Singer's case, the advent of synchronized sound) burdened by archaic racial attitudes. When a film's most iconic image is this...

...can anyone be blamed for being less than thrilled to delve into it?

The Jazz Singer however is no Birth of a Nation, that much needs to be emphasized. In fact it's not much of a "talkie" either come to think of it. Whereas Birth of a Nation was nothing less than a racial manifesto deliberately attempting to scrub history for political purposes (which for me, as an aspiring historian, is one of the most heinous things a piece of art can do), The Jazz Singer has no such agenda. It's aim is to explore more universal themes such as inter-generational expectations, the immigrant experience, and to a far more subtle extent what it means to be American.

But I'm getting somewhat ahead of myself. The film stars the legendary Al Jolson as Jackie Rabinowitz, an aspiring jazz singer and son of the cantor for a local synagogue. Expecting his son to honour his family's traditions and become a fellow cantor, Jackie's father (Warner Oland) punishes him for indulging in jazz, prompting him to run away from home to seek fame. Twenty years later Jackie, now working under the alias Jack Robin, is offered his big break on Broadway while his father falls ill on the eve of Yom Kippur. Desperate to find a replacement cantor Jackie's mother (Eugene Besserer) and family friend Otto Lederer (Moisha Yudelson) beseech Jackie to abandon the premier of his show and sing for the temple, forcing Jackie to choose between his dreams and his family, and on a deeper level between his individuality and his roots. The film ends with Jackie choosing to sing for the temple, absolving himself in the eyes of his father before being offered another chance on Broadway and successfully getting his own show.

It should be stated that blackface is only briefly present in the movie, and that the film's legacy as a vehicle for racism is overstated and undeserved. Jackie only dons the makeup in two scenes and in neither of these is it really used to emphasize racial themes. In fact I would go so far as to argue that the blackface itself shouldn't be classified as racist as contextually it carries a very specific thematic purpose. I mean, the mode itself is racist, given the cultural baggage, but it's utilization seems very removed from racial elements. Jackie's adoption of blackface represents a literal cultural mask between himself and his family. When his mother, who is supportive of her son's dreams first sees Jackie in the makeup she is uncomfortable as she feels Jackie is severing his Jewish roots. Reconciling tradition and new modes is the central theme of the film and is why jazz plays a central role. As a new musical genre (and a wholly American one at that) jazz serves as the perfect vehicle through which to explore such ideas, and Jackie's struggle between the jazz in his heart and the songs of his people is strengthened by it. The blackface therefor is not solely a technical tool but central to the plot, and serves as a representation of Jackie's assimilation into American culture, because that's fundamentally what the story is about; the clash of old cultures with new environments, in this particular case a multi-cultural America. This is not to absolve The Jazz Singer of all sin entirely as it is difficult to ignore the baggage carried by minstrel shows. However I feel that dismissing the film as racist misses the point. 

Ultimately though as I've already mentioned huffing about the film's politically incorrect methods is futile, as is the snobbery inherent in ascribing contemporary morals onto past generations. Attempting to judge past peoples by our standards is stupid, and I wish more people realized this. This obviously does not make said crimes okay (I certainly did not let the Birth of a Nation off the hook), but it does require that certain pieces be approached with specific expectations in mind. The movie also helped me think about blackface's role in our world today. In North America blackface is universally condemned as racist, as negative stereotypes permeated the minstrel shows that utilized the technique, but this is not so in other parts of the world. The Netherlands is a country that comes to mind, where the tradition of Black Peter always draws condemnation. Essentially Black Peter is magical character who in Dutch mythology is Santa Claus' assistant. The character is generally portrayed by white actors in blackface and has naturally drawn condemnation over the years. 

A Dutch friend once told me that the character is not intended to be a representation of black people but supposed to be a-racial. This does feel like a bit of a cop-out though when the character also sports bright red lips and large hoop earrings, common visual tropes of racist caricatures. I had another similar experience when I went to Brazil and saw blackface featuring prominently on television. When I asked my Brazilian friend about it she explained that the method does not carry a negative connotation the way it does in the States, but was seen similarly to when actor's wear drag. Yet the problem is that when an actor is in drag they generally adopt a hyperbolic version of female mannerisms to both emphasize his gender swap and for comedic purposes. This classic Monty Python sketch is a good example. The cross dressing is not the joke but is just a way for the actors to play different characters. However in doing so they clearly imitate old women, or at least how they are traditionally conceived. Would doing the same for black people not be inherently offensive, as it caricatures an entire culture/people?

It is not my intention to answer these question because frankly, while they are worth asking they are no easy answers. So let's move away from this topic and onto the movie itself. As mentioned this is the first movie with synchronized sound, although it's very limited in it's use. Besides the musical segments the movie is still silent. Apparently what little dialogue is in the movie was never meant to be in there. You see it was believed at the time that people wouldn't be interested in just having people talk on screen, so the plan was to use synchronized sound solely for the music. However Al Jolson ad libed and the footage was kept in the final cut, thus giving rise to dialogue in movies. Funny to think that people didn't think talking would fly in film. And what exactly was the first thing ever said in film? "You ain't heard nothing yet!"

How wonderfully appropriate.

I also like that the first song ever sung with synchronized audio is a Jewish hymn. At a time when mass pogrom's were still being organized in Europe on a regular basis, do you think that maybe this was intentional? After all Hollywood at this time was dominated by men of Jewish origins. Perhaps this was an act of defiance on their part. A way to irrevocably inscribe their culture onto America's landscape.

Besides this there isn't much to say about the movie. Well, except maybe that Jackie's dad is a piece of shit. Refusing to acknowledge your son because he chooses his own path is a huge dick move, and rather than having a satisfying moment where he learns the error of his ways instead he continues to spurn Jackie until he hears him sing the hymns, at which point he exclaims something along the lines of "my son has returned!" What kind of Confucian familial-piety bullshit is this? Jackie, just because some douche forgot to wear a condom does not mean they're entitled to your respect. Parents have to earn respect just like everyone else.

So with all this in mind, is the movie any good? Meh. It's okay I suppose. Honestly it didn't wow me that much. I at first loved the parts with the singing, as the contrast between them and the silence really packs a punch and for a second I felt like someone in 1927 watching a talkie for the first time. However once the novelty wears off all you're really left with is something a little generic. The jazz is alright, but it's a really old school kind of jazz, one that bears a closer resemblance to ragtime or blues than with anything by Louis Armstrong or Duke Ellington. It's not really my style. Still, everything is done competently enough that I still had a decent enough time, so give it a watch anyways. If nothing else you can people you saw a piece of film history.