Every Picture Tells a Story 8/28/14

Every Picture Tells a Story 6/20/14

Where I'll Be Today

I'll be at the Music Box Theatre, watching the exquisite Leslie Caron in Gigi.

Every Picture Tells a Story: 3/12/12

Silents, Please

Most of my friends--and yes, I have real friends, not just the imaginary kind) love movies, but some of those friends find it difficult, if not impossible, to sit through silent films.

I don't hold this against them. To the contrary--I completely understand.

Silent films are a different art form, relying much more on pantomime than dialog. They demand attention. You can't talk on the phone, make your grocery list or do your taxes while a silent movie plays in the background. You have to either watch it or not watch it--no middle ground.

Me? I love silent movies. One of my latest decadent indulgences is buying silent movies on Blu-ray. The picture quality is substantially better than most DVDs of the same films, and the extras tell me things about the films and stars that I never knew before. (Buster Keaton broke his ankle while trying to make "The Electric House," so while he recuperated, he made "the Playhouse" instead--and danced on that broken ankle in the film! See the things you learn?)

More than anything, though, I love to watch silent films in a theater with an audience and live musical accompaniment (usually on a house organ, but sometimes by a visiting orchestra or ensemble that specializes in playing live music for silent films). When you see a silent film with a crowd, it's not really silent at all--you can hear audience reaction much more clearly than you can during a modern film, especially if it's a comedy. (The laughter reverberates off the walls and through the floor.)

Fortunately, I live in Chicago, where I have multiple venues for silent film viewing. The Portage Theater hosts many showings on behalf of the Silent Film Society of Chicago, including their annual six-week Silent Summer Film Festival. (Last summer, for the first time, I attended all six showings during the festival.) The Music Box Theatre, best known for showing a mix of independent films, revivals and cult classics, started a series last year in which, on the second Saturday of every other month, they'd show a silent film in their main auditorium, which seats something around 800. (They have a smaller side screen that can accommodate around 100.)

That series of screening must have done well--this year, they expanded the series to the second Saturday of every month. And each time I've gone, the audience has grown, regardless of what's showing or what the weather is doing outside. (For the first two movies this year--"Show People" starring Marion Davies and Fatty Arbuckle's "Leap Year"--it was bitterly cold, but each crowd was sizable and enthusiastic.) Tomorrow, they're showing the very first Oscar winner for Best Picture, "Wings," with live organ accompaniment by Dennis Scott.

At previous showings, Scott has said that the Second Saturday Silent Cinema series has "flown under the radar"--i.e., hasn't gotten a lot of publicity--and has urged attendees to bring their friends. Silent This blog can't generate too much publicity, and I don't have that many friends to bring. If, however, you stumble across this little missive and happen to like silent cinema--or, if you're unfamiliar with the likes of Clara Bow, Douglas Fairbanks and Lon Chaney and are willing to take a chance on something new--head on down to the Music Box tomorrow. The theatre is beautiful, the popcorn is great and the experience is one to remember.

Every Picture Tells a Story: 5/5/11

I've taken to taking photos of theaters whenever I visit them, especially if it's an older movie house like the Music Box. Here's of shot of the marquee from the day I saw Stake Land with Josep and his finacee Jen. These vampires aren't pretty and don't sparkle in the sunlight--they're ugly and they burn, just like proper vampires should. And though Stake Land has funny moments, it's hardly a comedy. Quite the contrary--it's a somber, contemplative vampire/zombie movie with enough blood to sate the gorehounds and enough social commentary to engage the intellectuals.

Oh...and seeing it in the big room at a classic old theater? Awesome sauce.

Every Picture Tells a Story: 6/29/10

Even evil bunnies like Metropolis, especially at such a classic theater as the Music Box.

Every Picture Tells a Story: 5/8/10

Patrons wait in the semi-dark for the red curtain to rise and the matinee to begin at the Music Box.

Every Picture Tells a Story: 2/13/10

Every Picture Tells a Story: 2/11/10

2008: The Year in Photos (sort of)

Last Christmas, Mom bought me a digital camera.

This was not what I had asked for. I likely wanted something boring and practical. Sheet sets. Throws. Something like that. And, of course, she bought something else. (This year? I asked for a new electric razor, and she bought one. Wonders? Will never cease.)

Even though I hadn't asked for it, I used the little digital camera regularly. I did not, however, download any photos from it. The software that came with it wasn't compatible with my now-ancient iMac, Polly Jean (she didn't even recognize it as software), and I'd need a system administrator to authorize the installation of the software on my work 'puter (and it's not related to my job, so...SOL). That meant that I had a helluva lot of pictures stored on the camera--216, to be exact--when I finally took it to the Ritz Camera near work and got a CD burned the day after Christmas.

So here, without further comment, are some of the photos from the year that was, such as it was.