Showing posts with label silent films. Show all posts
Showing posts with label silent films. Show all posts

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Ten-second Cinema: Nosferatu in five easy takes

 


Hello, and welcome to your first lesson in German Expressionism. Here we have a very creepy fellow who doesn't look at all like a proper vampire, but nevertheless, that's what he's supposed to be.




Here at Ten-second Cinema, we stick to the good part. It saves a lot of time. Nosferatu really is creepy but anyone's standards. It all has to do with the lighting, and the apparent stillness of the creature. 




Here we have Ed Asner in an earlier incarnation, grabbing what must be a mosquito out of the air and eating it while a scientist and a dismayed constable look on.




Since it's hard, if not impossible to tell a story in ten-second snippets, I grab whatever arresting images I can find. Everyone's on edge here. Nosferatu seeks a creamy neck, and WILL find one soon.




I don't know why they don't just put him in the slammer here and now. He's obviously a pervert.




No one can explain why the titles are so crooked in this thing. But it gives away the ending. Critics have mentioned the eroticism in the story, and it's true that "offering her blood freely" is creepily - no, I won't say sexy, but fraught with something-or-other. The implication in vampire movies has always been that fear is entwined with desire. To be honest, if I had my pick, I'd choose Bela Lugosi. Or maybe even Grandpa Munster.



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Saturday, May 10, 2014

Don't give your heart





You must know this: it's not too goddamn smart
To give your heart.




To let some boy just trifle, a-la-carte
It's not too smart.




If you want to go there, go there,
And if you want to stay here, stay here,
And if you want to just pop la balloon
With la railroad-spike -
Do what you like.





Stupid to throw so much of yourself away
Stupid to realize it's past that day
(Way past that day!)
But haven't we always been the railroad type?





Love is a gutting kind of a thing
Doesn't make bells and banjos ring
and in the end, who's gonna sing? 
(Say, sing!)





When it almost works, it's such a shame,
And shame can feel much worse than pain
(and wedding rain)

When it almost works, the shock is deep
When it almost works, it shatters sleep
And pride and other things





The dream is stolen in the night
But you left it in the open, that wasn't too bright!
Not too bright.





When magic misfires too many times
and when all this stuff no longer rhymes:
Quelle horreur!

But it can't be worse than misfired art
And it can't be worse than knowing
You made this whole mess start -

You gave your heart.


Thursday, April 4, 2013