I love when flipping through the channels, stumbling upon an old silent film. Tonight I watched Bardelys the Magnificient (1926).
It reminds me how inpatient we’ve become as a society in terms of culture. The thought of sitting in a modern theatre, having paid $10+ for a ticket to see the plot of a story played out, with only inserts telling us the dialogue seems so far fetched to many. Yet I find watching a silent film, or a even a picture from the 1930s or 1940s, the story telling allows for more reflection. As a viewer you are not necessarily jumping ahead to solve the mystery, etc, you are paying more attention to the characters movements, dialogue and the mise-en-scene.
At the risk of sounding cliche, saying they just don’t make them like they used too, is well, true. Cinema is one of the only art forms that is so very young, and constantly evolving with modern technology, ways of writing and producing ultimately change with it.
Still, sometimes it’s nice to have a little reflection.
Now, I could really go for a Buster Keaton picture.