This blog will run through cinema's rich history in chronological order, starting with the films of the Lumiere Brothers in 1895 up to Avatar and beyond. With over 1500 titles to be viewed, it will provide a forum for all movie lovers to discuss film's gradual evolution.
Much has been made of the recent ‘discovery’ of a supposed time-traveller in the footage of the premiere of Chaplin's 1928 film the Circus. While the theory was swiftly debunked, it was undeniably exciting to see the internet abuzz with discussion about a silent film.
It is a great shame that this temporary mainstream interest in the silent era will not extend itself for a longer period, because the silent era achieved some remarkable time-bending feats. For example, Max Linder’s Les Débuts de Max au Cinématographe can stake a claim to be the first postmodern film. Now although postmodernism is one of those slippery terms which Harold Bloom would describe as over-determined in figuration and under-determined in meaning, my understanding of postmodernism in this context is the following:
Postmodernism is characterised by irony, appropriation and self-reference. In particular, the movement has uncovered the presence of source ideas, information and influences. It has therefore challenged the idea of ‘originality’. It has also made artworks resistant to straightforward assumptions about the place of the author and the interpreter.
Les Débuts de Max au Cinématographe is a film about the process of film-making. The film opens with a scene we might expect to see in Charlie Kaufmann’s Adaptation or even the television show Entourage, with Linder’s character visiting Charles Pathé.
Charles Pathé was one of the most powerful film moguls of the early silent era, and there is little doubt that any aspiring film maker in 1910 would have had to undertake a similar approach to getting his/her film made. The acute self-referential nature of this scene bears the hallmarks of a seminal postmodern work, yet it pre-dates this school of thought by around half a century! Examples of artists pre-empting major critical movements in such a manner deserve as much attention as mistaken time-travellers.
After Linder’s character has given the incredibly busy Pathé his recommendation letter and meets a few other industry men, he begins rehearsing a scene with another actor/director. It is only later on that we learn that Linder and his friend are rehearsing a scene that will be used in Linder’s film within a film towards the end of the movie. However, Linder’s desire to constantly remind the audience that they are watching a film that is about the process of making a film ‘breaks’ the fourth wall, which is another characteristic of a typical postmodern work:
The acceptance of the transparency of the fourth wall is part of the suspension of disbelief between a fictional work and an audience, allowing them to enjoy the fiction as if they were observing real events. Although the critic Vincent Canby described it in 1987 as "that invisible screen that forever separates the audience from the stage," postmodern art forms frequently either do away with it entirely, or make use of various framing devices to manipulate it in order to emphasize or de-emphasize certain aspects of the production, according to the artistic desires of the work's creator.
This self-awareness of form and subject matter is highlighted again before the ‘scene’ in the studio begins; Linder and the two female characters have a brief conversation where they appear amiable towards one another, before Linder’s character walks away from the camera and then returns ‘in character’. Linder’s constant inventiveness and playfulness illuminates this magnificent film and allows it to be both intellectually stimulating and extremely funny.
The latter point is crucial to emphasise as the film is perhaps the funniest Linder film the Film: Ab Initio list has observed to date. It manages to incorporate Linder’s earlier slapstick humour with an intellectual curiosity that deepens the humour of certain scenes. For example, when Linder is slapped by one of the female characters in the studio scene, the humour is amplified by the audience’s remembrance of Linder practising this slap with a male actor/director in an earlier scene.
The sophistication and dexterity of humour that Linder offers us in this film is worthy of any of the great comics of any era and fuels my belief Linder’s marginal reputation is unworthy of his considerable talents.
The final irony of the film’s postmodern nature is the fact that Les Débuts de Max au Cinématographe is the first Max Linder film on the Film: Ab Initio list where he is given a direction credit...
The cinematic development of slapstick comedy can be traced back to films such as Début d'un patineur. As Linder’s character flounders in his skates and later gets chased by a group of children who are far superior skaters than he is, the endless possibilities for this genre, particularly during the silent era, becomes readily apparent.
Even though it had been only a year since he filmed Le premier cigare d'un collegian, it is clear that Linder’s style and comedic timing had evolved. Despite the impressiveness of the latter film, Début d'un patineur is a better orchestrated and funnier film. Most importantly it makes better use of the visual medium.
Whereas Le premier cigare d'un collegian was based around the experience of Linder’s character smoking a cigar, which did not lend itself particularly well to visual comedy (although Linder did an excellent job of portraying the effects the cigar has on him), the decision to base this film around Linder’s character attempting to skate opens itself to a greater array of visual comedic possibilities.
The opening shot of Début d'un patineur demonstrates the magnetic effect of Linder’s Parisian boulevardier persona. The camera focuses on a pathway in a busy park as various Parisians walk by. As Linder wanders into the shot, even from a distance his languorous movements draws the audience in. From Méliès Voyage Dans La Lune to Tait’s The Story of the Kelly Gang, many of the movies of this era relied on an ensemble cast to portray the film’s storytelling. Linder though, somehow manages to create a persona that captivates his audience almost single-handedly.
As mentioned in the previous post on Linder, movement is crucial to the effectiveness of Linder’s persona. Whereas previously we admired the subtleties of Linder’s movement, on this occasion it is his crass movements, for example, as he first attempts to use the ice skates, which must be commended. And it is this form of physical action that lends itself ever so well to silent film. Such action rarely requires exposition and can thus exist independently of language. It is no coincidence that the silent films that have endured among mainstream modern viewers are usually Chaplin or Keaton films.
Despite Linder’s character clearly having little idea of how to balance himself on his skates, the audience is always left with the impression that Linder the actor is in complete control of every action. One might suggest that this is giving Linder too much credit; however, the comic timing of Linder’s acrobatics are almost perfect, which suggests that he knew exactly what he was doing.
The decision to show the entire process of Linder’s journey, from entering the park up to attempting to skate, only adds to the humour of his skating antics. His character clearly stands out among the usual skaters, and the look of bemusement of the men renting the skates is shared by the audience. It is in these scenes where Linder’s brilliance truly shines. There is embellishment that does not slip into exaggeration, everything is measured.
Perhaps the highlight of the film is when a more experienced skater attempts to help him up and the two of them engage in an accidental dance. As good as Linder is when he is performing a comic routine by himself, his comic chemistry with this other character suggests that his finest moments in his future films will come when he is placed in such scenarios.
Finally, the film also played a key historical role in regards to recognising the author of a film:
"Les Debut d'un patineur" (1907) is remarkable because Linder's confused snob appeared for the first time. When in his credits for the movie "Max et la doctoresse" appeared the following text: "written by Max Linder and played by the author". It was the first time in film history that there was mentioned an author in connection with a cinematic work.
Their is a delicious irony to this milestone - Linder was not yet a director! Which in turn asks important question about who actually authors a film, particularly in the case of a slapstick comedy. The fact that this post has not mentioned this film's director even once suggests that I agree with the crediting of this film. But in a broader context, the question of authorship becomes far more ambiguous.
The only thing more remarkable than Max Linder’s stellar film career is the neglect with which he is now treated. Linder was film’s first superstar; once, on arrival at Moscow train station, the army had to be called in to help him leave the station and when it had been falsely reported that he had been that he had been killed on the frontlines in World War I in 1914, France was in mourning.
Despite pioneering many of the comedic techniques that the likes of Chaplin and Keaton would build on, he is now seen as a footnote to Charlie Chaplin’s career. This is despite the fact that Chaplin revered Linder to such an extent that he once wrote on a picture of Linder:
"For the unique Max, the great master - his student Charles Chaplin".
Le premier cigare d'un collegian, the first of several Max Linder films we shall look at, sees the first appearance of Linder’s Parisian boulevardier persona, a character who had a penchant for women and the finer delicacies of life.
Given the recent penchant for airbrushing cigars, it is intriguing to watch a film based around the premise of the protagonist smoking his first cigar. Linder’s screen presence is both undeniable and infectious. The audience is drawn to his character in the opening scene, where he receives his cigar, and is completely transfixed on him by the time he has finished smoking his first cigar.
Whereas in previous films there has been an almost hyperactive level of movement from the characters in their respective films (particularly in the Lumiere Brothers’ and Méliès’ work), every single movement of Linder’s is controlled and serves a purpose. For example, the delicate, restrained movement of his legs as he re-enters his building after he has been ‘intoxicated’ by his cigar is carefully constructed and well executed.
There is subtlety to his humour; the extended close up of Linder as he smokes the cigar demonstrates this point. After inhaling his first smoke of the cigar, Linder’s subsequent reactions build up a comic crescendo which allows the audience’s reaction to develop and expand in anticipation of Linder’s inevitable come down.
As with much of Méliès’ work, Linder’s film is extremely enjoyable. Whether Linder is flirting outrageously with a woman in a cafe or stumbling into the wrong apartment, there is an unfiltered joy that you derive from watching this film.
This film is the first example of a motion picture on this list where the actor’s importance usurps the director’s importance. Although the director of the film, Louis J. Gasnier , would continue to make films until 1940, the film will always be remembered for Linder rather than Gasnier. Linder himself would be granted increasing control of his films; by 1911 he had full creative control over his films.
Furthermore, whereas great theatrical performances by the likes of the great Shakespearean actor Richard Burbage would only be recounted by contemporary accounts of their performances, film allows for great acting performances to be captured for time immemorial – thus greatly enhancing the importance of such performances.
Finally, in terms of tracing the genealogy of Linder’s persona, there are elements of both Méliès’ magician and Porter’s French nobleman in his portrayal of a Parisian boulevardier. Yet there is an element of sophistication to Linder’s portrayal that increases the comedic scope for film, which will be further illustrated by the subsequent films of his that we shall look at.
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