Communication – with lips sealed shut.
This life in a monochromatic world
is vivid in it’s own simplistic way.
Ancient title cards and jagged, pantomime movements
flourish like the arrival of spring,
their personalities waltzing in glorious 35mm quality.
Such a structured, linear narration,
is a far-cry from the infantile days of
Le Prince, Lumiere, and Edison.
To see Gish’s eyes coldly staring into
Barthelmess’ soul embodies the surreal
beauty of a time retrieved through
commemorative re-releases and the deadening,
yet informative banter of Robert Osbourne.
To absorb the hallucinogenic stop-motion of the
European masterminds, like Melies and Lang,
creates a dream-scape unseen to anyone
in this modern system, this cinematic monarchy,
in which royalty is comprised of
men named Stephen, George, James.
A closed mouth – nothing more than an
obscure fact littered within the
volumes and volumes of history,
every minute, day, and year perfectly preserved
within droves of discarded reels,
inhabiting every fathomable place from
studio vaults to Argentinian museums.
Evolution has removed the complicated
simplicity from the art of the moving picture,
but such is the goal of which every
passing second ultimately strives for.