Film, Part Deux

Do I continue down my path of movie viewing today? I imagine I will as I did not entirely encapsulate all I wanted to about The Passion of Joan of Arc as I became sidetracked with mentioning facial expressions and the body's motion when conveying information and yet I have a feeling that will always be the case: often there is much more to be said (Me long-winded? Perish the thought!) and I usually go off on tangents. The music written for or inspired by the film is breathtaking and gorgeously evokes the somber, intense tone, religious fervor and medieval period. Silent films are pared down so much that you really notice details (as long as you don't have too much to read and certainly in The Passion of Joan of Arc there is only the sparest of dialogue). As I mentioned earlier I was impressed with the commitment of both subject and star of this film which then led me to wonder about what it meant to be so passionate about something you would endure torture (the director to squeeze a more wrenching and convincing performance from the actress made her kneel for hours on end. I have to wonder if perhaps how voracious this part was led the actress to decide to look elsewhere for a profession), isolation, death and even eternal damnation. I think it high time I read more about Joan of Arc as all I know is gleaned from very distant, indirect sources. Anyone with reading suggestions?

Late Friday night on TCM Underground they had a Roger Corman double feature. Now I am not going to tell you, dear reader, to go out and find these films as only someone who appreciates classic horror (which is often absurd and melodramatic) will enjoy them. Since I happen to be such a person, I did find them amusing. First was A Bucket of Blood starring Dick Miller (also known as Richard Miller) as a very pathetic beatnik-wannabe desperate to fit in at any cost. I believe desperation to be one of the least attractive traits known to man as in the state of desperation a person's very soul and essence is compromised. Desperation has its own smell and sticky, sick sense about it. Miller's character stumbles upon his entrée by accidentally killing a cat and encasing it in clay. I think you may figure out the natural progression when he receives so much praise for the realism of his sculpture. The best things about this film is the satire of the beatnik culture and perhaps artistic elitism in general.

The second film, The Terror, starred an older Boris Karloff and a young Jack Nicholson. I even noticed in the credits a likewise young Francis Coppola as an associate producer. The film contains a count, his trusted servant (played by Dick Miller), creepy castle, vengeful witch and beautiful ghost of a murdered young woman all set during the Napoleonic Wars (dear reader, you may also find it delightful that Nicholson plays a French soldier in Napoleon's army sporting a modern day handgun, if I am not mistaken). One thing struck me was how much more handsome Dick Miller appeared in this second movie than the first. I believe it had everything to do with his character being much more menacing and not in the least bit desperate, but this is only my opinion. Overall, this is not an inspired film, but since I am interested in all things even remotely tied with the Napoleonic era and it seems like a natural predecessor of some of my favorite guilty pleasures (Vincent Price horror movies), I was not displeased with the time spent.

Tonight, is Silent Sunday Night on TCM followed by TCM Imports. I plan on recording these films and enjoying them during the coming week. I hope, dear reader, you are as happily (and easily) entertained!

Commenting on Commenting & Film, Part I of Many

First, about the blog: Do I read the comments? Someone asked me this question and the answer is YES! I savor the comments by those kind enough to leave them. I haven't yet replied to the comments as I am not sure how I wish to handle them. For me nothing is simple. Do I answer each comment like I would an email or message (for anyone familiar with how I write when I am focused you may realize why I hesitate to do just this--I tend to be the equivalent of an avalanche)? For those people I correspond with (at this point only friends are commenting), do I reply to them personally off the blog? Or do I read the comment, ponder them and perhaps use them as inspiration or the like for future posts? For instance, I am not sure he is aware of it, but Eric was the impetus of the Public vs. Private post. An "anonymous" commenter posted some suggestions that I may follow in the future. At this point, I am going to mix it up and use my discretion. I did wish to let those who have commented on and off the blog know that I appreciate every word you have written!

Now on to something else: movies. I watch a lot of movies and not all of them are good by even the most liberal of definitions. My philosophy on movies (and books too) is that even by watching lousy movies I am learning to more fully appreciate the better films. At the moment I am trying to catch up on cult films, silent films and foreign films all with the help of one of the best channels on cable: Turner Classic Movies (TCM). I could write an ode here to TCM, but I think the sheer repetition to which I mention it in glowing terms will undoubtedly make apparent the extent to which I am an ardent fan.

Last night I watched a French silent film I had recorded: The Passion of Joan of Arc (or in its original title La Pasion de Jeanne d'Arc). It is a visually beautiful film first of all--stark, haunting, harrowing and naked with music written for the film at a later date, I believe. What most impressed me when watching this film was the commitment and devotion of both Joan of Arc and that depicted by the actual actress. This was the first and last film made by the actress, as I was informed by the ever informed Robert Osborne when he introduced the film, and her performance is considered by many as the best ever captured on film. High praise, but if you ever watch the movie I wonder if you aren't likewise riveted by the raw power of her eyes alone. I contemplated if I had seen another actor invest so much in how their eyes welled up with tears or widened in horror or terror? Something often lost in films since gaining audio is the subtly of movement in as simple as a blinking of the eye, the hardening of a lip or slight slump of the shoulder. We humans betray what we think and feel in those actions...in our individual ticks. The motions and expressions in silent films are often larger and more grand than in life, but you begin to realize how important the body is when understanding emotion and a character. I am sure this is not lost on the stage, but I believe in movies (mayhap mostly those from the States) too many other things detract and distract from such simple facts.

The Passion of Joan of Arc is actually the second French silent I have seen in as many months. Both have been surprisingly enjoyable and I must admit to feeling a bit self-congratulatory about how cultured I consider myself after watching such movies. Now, dear reader, do not worry that I will suddenly become a film snob. Keep in mind that I still watch such gems and masterpieces of cinematic art as Waxworks II: Lost in Time and Joe Dirt with glee. My mind may strive for intellectual depth and emotional resonance and it may also be able to determine the level of quality, yet my little heart is an equalitarian. I am a lover of both brilliance and pure crap.