settima

1920s

La chute de la maison Usher [The Fall of the House of Usher] (Jean Epstein, 1928)

Oct

21

La chute de la maison Usher (1928)

A rapid tracking shot along a dark corridor. Dead leaves follow the camera (via). DPs: Georges Lucas & Jean Lucas.

A favourite horror film adapted from a book or short story*

“Everything in this masterpiece contributes to its unity: the absolute mastery of editing and rhythm; slow motion, superimpositions, tracking shots, the mobile camera all play their roles and never gratuitously. The photographic quality, worthy of the most learned German operators, the lighting of the sets which envelops them in mystery, the sets themselves, neither realistic nor stylized, but as if sketched; the acting neither realistic nor expressionist, and yet adapted to the fantastic, to the violence; to the pauses; to the blur.”

Henri Langlois, via

 

* the Bales 2025 Film Challenge for October is horror-themed as opposed to date-based, and is all about favourites. Expect non-horror and films I believe to be relevant instead.

Au secours ! [Help!] (Abel Gance, 1924)

Oct

18

Au secours !

Au secours ! (1924)

A rather tall ghost struts along a nonplussed Max. DPs: Émile Pierre, André-Wladimir Reybas & Georges Specht.

A [favourite] horror comedy*. This post goes out to Max Linder, who – together with his wife Hélène “Ninette” Peters – took his own life 100 years ago, on October 31, 1925.

 

Max (Max Linder) bets that he can spend one whole hour in a haunted castle without calling for help. In face of all the (in camera!) terrors, Max faces his fears with ease. Until, just minutes before the clock strikes midnight, the phone rings.

“Strange things are happening today.”

– title card

And there was this other bet. One between Linder and director Abel Gance. Linder bet that Gance would not be able to shoot a movie in only three days. With ghosts, skeletons, and wildlife galore, the result is a delightful Grand Guignol à la Max.

 

* the Bales 2025 Film Challenge for October is horror-themed as opposed to date-based, and is all about favourites. Expect non-horror and films I believe to be relevant instead.

狂った一頁 [Kurutta ichipėji / A Page of Madness] (Teinosuke Kinugasa, 1926)

Oct

14

silent cinema

Kurutta ichipėji (1926)

A masked inmate (Eiko Minami) dances. The shot of the dancer is superimposed over a shot of her cel's bars, putting the viewer in the position of the husband witnessing – or is he hallucinating – an inescapable nightmare (via). DP: Kōhei Sugiyama.

A [favourite] silent horror film*

 

 

* the Bales 2025 Film Challenge for October is horror-themed as opposed to date-based, and is all about favourites. Expect non-horror and films I believe to be relevant instead.

KIPHO [Du musst zur KIPHO] (Julius Pinschewer, 1925)

Sep

25

1925

KIPHO (1925)

A very modern dressed woman with a small film camera. Superimposed but suggested she's filming it, a large teddybear – a bear is #Berlin's official mascot – to remind viewers that the Kino und Photoausstellung [“Film and Photo Fair”) takes place in the German capital. DP: Guido Seeber.

Die Republik der Backfische [The Republic of Flappers] (Constantin J. David, 1928)

Sep

20

1928

Die Republik der Backfische (1928)

The Berliner Zeitung (a rag of a paper that's still around to this day) of September 20, 1928. It blares something about America and Graf Zeppelin, the then-new airship. DP: Mutz Greenbaum.

Depending on the language version you watch, you'll see a 1928 newspaper headline dated September 20 (a Thursday), January 10 (a Tuesday), or January 9 (a Monday).

 

Menschen am Sonntag [People on Sunday, a Film Without Actors] (Robert Siodmak, Edgar G. Ulmer, Rochus Gliese, Curt Siodmak + Fred Zinnemann, 1929)

Jul

31

Menschen am Sonntag (1929)

Brigitte Borchert savours her Sunday. The workweek is still lightyears away (via). DP: Eugen Schüfftan.

Someone goes to work*

“Du, Wolf, nächsten Sonntag — ?”

– title card

Berliners rest on Sunday, we still do. People lounge in the many parks, and on the shores of the city's many lakes. And then, it's Monday.

 

Released in 1929, according to Atlas Film, who restored this important Weimar classic long before Criterion put their grubby hands on it.

 

Lonesome (Pál Fejős, 1928)

Jul

3

Sat

Lonesome (1928)

An alarm clock informs us it's 7:15 while the calendar adds that it's the 3rd on a Saturday. Next to the alarm a crumpled up ladies' magazine. DP: Gilbert Warrenton.

“You've won a doll and a kiss. I'll give you the doll and your girl can give you the kiss!”

– Coney Island barker

Combat de boxe (Charles Dekeukeleire, 1927)

Jun

30

Mike Tyson – 1966

Combat de boxe (1927)

One of the fighters receives a direct hit. The camera is so close that we see abstract shapes, texture and contrast before recognising the scene. DP: Antoine Castille.

A [favourite] athlete in a film role for Mike Tyson's birthday

“But this art of total synthesis that is Cinema, this fabulous newborn of Machine and Sentiment, is beginning to cease its moans and is entering its infancy. Its adolescence will soon arrive, seize its intelligence, and multiply its dreams; we ask that we hasten its development, precipitate the advent of its youth. We need Cinema to create the total art toward which the other arts have always tended.

– Ricciotto Canudo, Gazette des sept arts, 1923 (via)

The match you see is real, between two actual fighters. Paul Werrie's rhythmic poem served as the basis. Everything else is illusion made flesh with what was available. An empty painter's studio, a few friends, footage of a crowd, a deep comprehension of the Kuleshov effect and rapid Soviet-style editing. Dekeukeleire places us from the safe world of the spectator right in the line of fire. But there's no release like in James Williamson's The Big Swallow (1901). Without that gimmick, cinema enters Canudo's realm, as the seventh art.

The Unholy Three (Tod Browning, 1925)

May

6

The Unholy Three (1925)

Tweedledee (Harry Earles), Hercules (Victor McLaglen), and Echo – The Ventriloquist (Lon Chaney). DP: David Kesson.

“It's spooky! It sounds… unholy!”

– Echo

The Man Who Laughs (Paul Leni, 1928)

Jan

29

1690

The Man Who Laughs (1928)

A hand-painted carnival banner reading “URSUS ye Philosopher presents THE LAUGHING MAN. Don't fail to see GWYNPLAINE who was deserted at ye age of ten on ye night of ye 29th of January 1690 by ye Villainous Comprachicos on ye coast of Cornwall. This little boy has grown up and is now known as THE LAUGHING MAN”. DP: Gilbert Warrenton.

“What a lucky clown you are! You don't have to wipe off your laugh.”