Earth (1930)

It takes courage to make a message movie these days. In Stalinist Russia, it took courage not to. Whatever else you may think of Earth, consider that, in a place and time when Communist orthodoxy was demanded from the top down, with brutal consequences for those who deviated, director Alexander Dovzhenko dared to be ambivalent.

Three Ages (1923)

Everyone reading this knows Buster Keaton, and most of you probably know a little bit about Three Ages, his first feature, too. Untested in hour-long comedies, Keaton agreed to film something that was splittable into three short films: each one able to stand on its own, if need be. As it turned out, Three Ages worked out just fine as a feature. Today, we remember it as the start of the second, and most artistically successful, phase of his career.

If you like Keaton’s shorts, you’ll like Three Ages. And who doesn’t like his shorts? Almost all of them are fast-paced, sharp comedies, with good gags that obey the laws of physics. They were ambitious too—in scale, as in Cops, and in technical reach, like The Playhouse. The trio of films that make up Three Ages fall about in the middle of that pack. One, though, offered a glimpse into Keaton’s future work, and for that reason, it the most special of the three.

The General (1926)

The General is the greatest of Buster Keaton’s features—his most inventive, ambitious, and perfectly crafted film. To say this is not simply to conjure up some scale of achievement, with The General at one end, and say, Battling Butler at the other. The General is more than a highpoint in a Keaton Continuum; it is also unique among his works. And this is thanks to a little man, Johnnie Gray, whom Keaton plays, at the centre of it all. Utterly capable, Johnnie Gray is no typical Keaton hero.

In fact, I’d trust Johnnie with my life.

The Love of Jeanne Ney (1927)

When I need my fix of 1920s/early-30s human grotesquerie, I know who to turn to: the Austrians. Films like Greed (1924) and M (1931) aren’t just terrific art, they’re freak-shows: displaying up close and personal some of the supreme low-lifes of the early screen. Some of the men and women in these films are ugly, and some aren’t; but they have a rot deep down inside of them and it isn’t pretty.

Within the Law (1923)

The law today is the rich man’s law. The courts are the rich man’s courts. Lawyers speak not of courts of justice, but of courts of law, and this law can be twisted by hirelings schooled in deft evasion for the service of any rogue who is able to pay the lawyer’s price. This system becomes the rich man’s tool.


With a little tweaking, these could be the words of a current New York Times columnist. But they’re not. They’re part of a fictional op-ed; part of a script. When Mary Turner reads these words in a magazine, she’s inspired by them. If men can get rich on the backs of others, all within the letter of the law, then so can she.

Sex In Chains (1928)

This re-post is part the 2012 Queer Film Blogathon, already underway over at Garbo Laughs.

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Sex In Chains isn’t the exploitation film it sounds like, but if you did find it shelved—accidentally, we’ll say—next to a stack of early-70s convent skin flicks and womens’ prison dramas, you wouldn’t be wholly misled. Those films, like this one, are about people veering to extremes. They’re about people in heat.

Sex In Chains—an often delicately shot, honest film with compassion for its suffering married couple, Franz and Helene—is at a low boil even in its quietest moments. But director (and star) Wilhelm Dieterle isn’t satisfied with mere melodramatics, even of a kind lurid or borderline nymphomaniacal enough to hold our attention. He wants us to be more than observers. He makes us care about these people, all the while tackling social issues that remain, to this day, contentious. I’ll not soon forget Sex In Chains, or the people in it.

Cops (1922)

Cops is one of Buster Keaton’s best shorts—maybe the best. That's as close to a universally held opinion as you’ll find among silent film fans.

How can I say this? Well, because Keaton’s body of work is known to almost anyone with even a beginner’s interest in silent films. If the quality of Cops was in dispute, there would be plenty of thoughtful voices to dispute it. Yet there are nearly none.

I won’t dispute it either. I think Cops is a fantastic film—brisk, smart, cynical, and funny. It’s my personal favorite of Keaton’s shorts. I’ve seen it many times, but I’ve avoided writing about it in the past because it’s so hard to examine without spoiling, and because I questioned whether I’d have anything new to say about a film seen and loved by so many.

Maybe I still don’t. But the film’s been on my mind lately, and so I’m inspired to try. The catalyst was an event I attended a little while ago—a screening of a very different film: F.W. Murnau’s The Last Laugh (1924). (You can read my review of that film here.)