Thursday, March 11, 2010


All the hype surrounding the new Alice in Wonderland film made me remember one of my favorite silent films; the 1903 version of Lewis Carrol's first novel. I have a soft spot for silent movies - I try not to view them as quaint antiquities, but as snapshots of an era. These films recall a time when movies had a sacredness to them, a sense of novel mystique that there was such a thing as a moving picture. I love the earnestness and simplicity that is used to convey the story being told, and I love the way every shot looks like an in-motion version of dignified black-and-white photographs. Even the damage compliments the images - it adds another layer of ephemeral magic, as if warning the viewer that this specialness, this esoteric privilege, is fleeting.
To me, this will always be the real Alice In Wonderland.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Go ahead. I thrive on constructive criticism.