1 post tagged “american cinema”
Now concluded with this year's silent film festival; now must bring myself to the slick, nonsensual aspects of the twenty-first century. So much in the backgrounds of silent films are worth looking at--what did that world sound like? Smell like? How many streets were unpaved, cigars smoked indoors, typewriter keys struck, teeth unbrushed?
What did it feel like to the hand? How many mohair-upholstered chairs, how many fine woolen suit jackets and crepe de chine dresses? How much charmeuse, art silk, starched linen, celluloid?
The sound of a slammed door from solid oak--not particle board; the foyer smells of oil soap. The sounds of creaking wooden stairs, the ice man's or greengrocer's or ragman's horse, a backfiring automobile, the chickens in the yard next door. Twenty-watt incandescent bulbs or even gaslights overhead.
How it felt to be in their shoes: walk from the trolley, straight to the subway-tiled bathroom for a corn plaster. Walk downtown, to its sidewalks, its busy little shops, banks where men still affect spats and tails for daytime business dress, its ashcans, its crossroads moderated by policemen, and, everywhere, Fords, all of them the same.
A day in the country easily obtained with a train ticket and wicker picnic basket. Women know how to prepare picnic shoulders, yeast biscuits. The feel of wax paper, the crinkle sound of it.
A landscape without plastic, Styrofoam, Neoprene. Few things molded; more things, wrought. Handiwork in abundance: your can of hand-packed sardines, your hand-knit scarf, your mail hand-delivered, its contents hand-written.
The modern in such obvious juxtaposition--the mystery of radio, of anything powered without wires. The mystery of pneumatic tubes, escalators. A world of hidden entries, ways to cheat the doorman: dumbwaiters, back stairs, cellars, garbage chutes.
Hot summers with just the metal blades of a fan to relieve the heat, or the joy of a creekside swimming place. The liberty to nap in a hammock. The freedom from office worries when off the premises. Loosen the tie, expose the darned socks, ease. Wake to the closing credits.
