The Taming of the Shrew (1929)

 "O my word, she is a lusty wench."

This is not, of course, a very good adaptation. It is, nevertheless, the first big Hollywood Shakespeare film of the sound era. I shall save discussion of the play itself- is it misogynistic or ironic? What did Shakespeare intend? Does that matter, as Roland Barthes would bid us ask?- for a better adaptation, although I would note that Mary Pickford portrays Catherine's "taming" with a literal wink to the fourth wall. 1929 was not the dark ages. Straight misogyny just would not do.

Yet this isn't very good. Early talkies often aren't. Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks are good silent actors, but there are reasons why sound killed their careers. Their big acting styles, so evocative in silent movies, don't suit sound. Also, the chemistry here is of a couple whose marriage is ending, not beginning... because their marriage was ending.

Nevertheless, and controversially, I'd say that Pickford is pretty good here. You can tell she wasn't hired for her spoken acting, but she's fine, and her visual acting, while not subtle, is very good indeed and suited for comedy in a way lots of the slapstick here falls short. Fairbanks, as Petruchio, is... rubbish.

As is the film. Shakespeare's dialogue is changed beyond reason. This is Shakrespeare for the groundlings which... is not, actually, intrinsically a bad thing. But this is not a path down which Hollywood would continue.

A bad film, then, despite patches of merit. But fascibatingly bad. Also, well out of copyright and on YouTube.

Pandora's Box (1929)

No quote, alas: this is a silent film, albeit one of the last. Like a rather large proportion of the silents I've reviewed, it's German, despite having an American star. The Weimar Republic seemed to have so many of the best directors on the planet during the 1920's and, in a time when films were without sound and consequently language didn't matter, it was able to compete on a global stage, in a way that hasn't been possible since the Tower of Babel that was the onset of sound. Nevertheless, it's tempting to imagine what German cinema would still have been capable if only it had not completely abandoned civilisation, and all its trappings, in 1933.

This is a superbly made and directed film, and Louise Brooks gives a sublime and outstanding performance of a type which simply can't be seen these days. Without the option of speaking, she has to convey some immense subtleties by gesture and expression alone. This naturally leads, up to a point at least, to a "big" performance, and yet there's a lot of naturalism there too. It's a real tightrope, and Brooks walks it with aplomb.

This is also a fascinating film from an historical perspective; it's the 1920's, the flapper generation. And yet these flappers, with their bobs, their cigarette holders and their loose, boyish, semi-revealing clothing, are just one generation away from corset-strapped Edwardian ideas of sexual mores and gender roles. It's tempting, and perhaps not entirely inaccurate, to compare the flappers of the roaring '20s to the mods and hippies of the swinging '60s, although in both cases we should remember that to a large extent we're talking about a relatively small number of young, wealthy urbanites. Also, in the 1920s, there is as yet no contraceptive pill, so the sexual liberatedness of the younger generation tends to stop short of penetrative sex. And, whatever the parallels of flappers to hippies, the general public in the 1920s, well within living memory of Victorian times, was far more socially conservative. Yes, the likes of the Bloomsbury Group, a rather posh bunch of people, may have shagged indiscriminately, enjoyed modernist art and talked about Freud a lot, but in the wider world things were rather different. Case in point: women only gained the right to vote on equal terms with men in 1928 in the UK. In short, the gap between the Bohemians and the majority is rather wide.

We can see this gap rather clearly in the film. For all that Lulu is bobbed, liberated and uber-modern (look at the art in her apartment, and the interior décor), she's a character in a highly moralistic and conservative melodrama which purports to show that such behaviour leads to tragic accidents, imprisonment, gambling, cheating at cards(!), alcoholism and prostitution. It's only the superb quality of the film that prevents it from being the Reefer Madness of flapperdom.

Also interesting is that this film should be not only from the Weimar Republic but set, interestingly, in Berlin, notorious for its licentiousness in Germany at the time. It's all very Cabaret. This film is part of a general mood in Weimar Germany that decadence and loose morals have gone too far, and we all know where that will eventually lead.

Frau im Mond (1929)

"Learned ignoramuses, lacking in fantasy, whose brains work in inverse proportion to their level of calcification…!"

I can't watch Metropolis yet, as I still haven't got around to buying the restored version, including all the recently recovered clips. But I do happen to own this, a very different science fiction film by Fritz Lang, from just a couple of years later and grounded very much in "hard" sci-fi. And it's a fascinating document of film history as well as of space travel in popular culture.

For all that it's very much of its time and very German (the car number plates are recognisably German even in 1929, and I was amazed to see that the credits and intertitles use the long "s", something which I imagined had fallen out of use during the eighteenth century!), this reminds me very much of Bollywood films in one important respect. Bollywood films tend not to specialise, but to be aimed at a very wide audience of all ages and backgrounds, and both genders. Hence films tend to include action, romance, comedy, songs, etc. This film may not have any songs (a silent film hardly could!) but it ticks pretty much all the other boxes.

We have science fiction, obviously. We have romantic drama in the form of the love triangle between Helius, Friede and Windegger. We have an extended comic sequence at the beginning, in the Professor's flat. Most of the first hour is devoted to a bizarre, but entertaining, conspiracy theory thriller. There's even a quick shoot-out. This is several films in one; no wonder it's so bloody long.

It doesn't feel too long, though, strange though it can feel for a silent film, to feature so many sequences of people talking. It's never boring; the acting style sees to that. This is very much a melodrama, with all that entails. This is probably essential, and it works; the characters are all extremely well-rounded. We have the brave, determined but worry-prone Helius, whose name seems to evoke the Icarus myth, rather appropriately. We have the decent but cowardly Windegger. We have Friede, the bravest, most loyal and most collected of the whole of them, and the epitome of the strong woman. She's the heroine of the film. We have the Professor, our requisite comedy character. We have Gustav, the boy in short trousers with his sci-fi pulp magazines.

But perhaps the most interesting character is Walt Turner, he of the superhuman powers of disguise. The hairstyle and mannerisms evoke Hitler very, very strongly, and in the Germany of 1929 this can be no accident. Interestingly, the Hitler character is the only one who isn't German, and he hasn't got a moustache (that would be too blatant!), but it's hard to escape the conclusion that Fritz Lang was not exactly a fan of Hitler's; it's hardly a flattering portrayal. Not only is Turner incredibly sinister and villainous, but he's by far the most cowardly (and dishevelled!) during the g-force section. Hitler is being treated as a contemptible Nick Griffin figure which is, of course, exactly what he was in 1929. The Nazi party didn't exactly come to power by promising to shove people into concentration camps and murder six million Jews; they kept rather quiet about that. That's something which should be borne in mind by anyone who imagines the BNP or the like are remotely less dangerous.

Still, it's weird to see the Hitler figure as the one who's part of the sort of conspiracy which, in Germany between the wars, can hardly not have anti-Semitic overtones. This cabal of four rich men and one cigar-chomping woman is utterly ridiculous and not remotely believable. Then again, there are depressing numbers of people today who believe even more obviously stupid conspiracy theories, so perhaps I shouldn't judge.

It's hard not to be impressed by the prescience with which manned space flight is depicted, with two caveats, both forgiveable. Yes, to have the Moon (or even just an unseen part of it) be breathable and habitable is a bit dodgy. But there are, I think, very good grounds to plead artistic licence here. It's 1929; everyone knows that actual travel to the Moon is decades away, and at least they're acknowledging that the known part of the Moon is airless. Besides, there's a literary tradition of a habitable Moon from Verne and Wells (whose novel is echoed in the strong element of greed here).

The other odd thing is that this is a private expedition, not state sponsored, although surely only a nation, and a major one at that, could possibly be able to fund such an undertaking, especially back then? But, those little things aside, there are so many amazingly correct predictions. An unmanned vessel, equipped with a camera, was sent first. Travel is by rocket, and it has three stages. There's a countdown, the first ever example of what would become a well-worn trope. There's a sort of spacesuit which, rather logically, looks like a deep sea diving suit. There's even weightlessness, with people walking by aid of footstraps in the floor!

There are things to raise eyebrows, of course. The Moon has an atmosphere as strong as the Earth's, which is not only a problem in itself but raises the question of how they can take off again. The different stages of the rocket have to be jettisoned manually during a period of strong g-forces, which seems rather risky. But the film gets so many things right that it seems churlish to complain; I'd be amazed if Werner Von Braun didn't turn out to have seen this film...

The film may have dated a little, it's very long for a silent movie, but it held my interest throughout and is a fascinating little historical document.

Un Chien Andalou (1929)

No quote, unless "wtf?!" counts.

Got me a movie, I want you to know. Slicing up eyeballs, I want you to know. Don't know about you, but this is beautiful. Also weird. But good weird.

It's rather hard to say much about the surrealism, or indeed to get any kind of grip on a film that isn't really a narrative at all. When you're looking at a movement based on Freudianism and free association it's rather hard to find anything much beyond "a bit random, innit?" to say about the various weird scenes. The captions denoting that it's "eight years later" or "sixteen years earlier" are presumably supposed to indicate the random way time passes in dreams, much like cutting between scenes in a film, so I suppose that's a bit metatextual. The man's unexpected assault on the woman's boobs is probably supposed to be some sort of illustration of how the id is let loose within dreams- Freud and all that- but I'm otherwise wary to use phrases like "supposed to be" at all. I have pretty much the same attitude about Salvador Dali's paintings. What do you say about them beyond "Ooh, a bit Freudian, dreamlike and therefore random"?

What matters for the surrealism to work is that the film should look gorgeous and be creatively shot. Thanks to extraordinary work from Luis Buñuel, it does and it is. The use of light, camera angles and dissolves makes the whole thing look gorgeous and appropriately weird. It helps, from a 2012 perspective, that it all now looks so charmingly period, with the look of the cars, the relative lack of them and, yes, the clothes. The flapper looks gorgeous. The hats look cool. The beachwear is, er, less so. Tanktops, on the beach? Really?

I'm glad I've seen this film though- it really is beautiful and, although I'm sure the makers wouldn't thank me for saying so, a charming document of intellectual thought between the wars. You should see it too; it's on YouTube, and it's only sixteen minutes. Go on.