Archive for Paul Leni

The Sunday Intertitle: Shiver ‘n’ Shake

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , on February 10, 2019 by dcairns

THE CAT AND THE CANARY (1927) has many novelty intertitles. The Kino DVD has a great score by Neil Brand. And the film screens at this year’s Hippodrome Silent Film Festival in Bo’ness. (Line-up here.) I’m writing program notes for it so I don’t want to say too much here yet. But I’ll reproduce my notes on Shadowplay after the event.

You never saw one like THIS, did you?

SUNRISE’s famous melting murder-proposal “Couldn’t she get drowned?” comes close, I guess, but this one has the added value of dropping into frame word by word. It puts me in mind of the end credits of KISS ME DEADLY.

Now I better go write those notes.

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The (Late) Sunday Intertitle: Famous Last Words

Posted in FILM, Politics with tags , on December 3, 2017 by dcairns

From Paul Leni’s final film, THE LAST WARNING. Seemed appropriate on all kinds of levels.

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Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , on June 7, 2014 by dcairns

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Production design sketches from WAXWORKS (1924) by Paul Leni. Scanned from the same book I got the ALGOL ones from. I have forgotten the name of the book but it had the worl “Architecture” in the title. I guess “Panoptikum” is a German variation on “Panopticon” — meaning a room designed to offer a clear total view from every position. Panoptica were popular as theatres and prisons in the Victorian era — Glasgow has a Panopticon, the theatre where Stan Laurel made his stage debut.

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Gaslight! From the Jack the Ripper episode. Here the Ripper, played by Werner “Caligari” Krauss in the film with spooky, soundless tread. I know it’s a silent film and everybody has a soundless tread, but Krauss’s is more soundless than the rest, calling to mind Victorian theories that Jack wore those new-fangled rubber-soled shoes to silently stalk his prey. Perhaps it’s because he’s a transparent double exposure. But here he looks like a muppet.

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More of the same. Gas lamps seem ideally suited to the acute scissoring angles of expressionist design.

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I kind of wish the movie were livelier — you can tell Leni was a production designer first, because he’s not so interested in narrative momentum, except as a pretext for moving on to the next set when he’s finished glorying in the present one. But the designs are so wondrous — particularly the Haroun Al-Raschid section with Emil Jannings — that one forgets about plot and just floats into the trippy environments, feeling rather like a double exposure oneself.

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