Americans have no idea what they’ve missed, being dependent on Hollywood for their movies as it were. Being of limited experience I hadn’t realized it myself until 8 or 9 years ago with, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Hollywood of course had to keep the Danish version out of America so they could remake their own version to scoop up all the profits. Sure they ruined the movie, but by doing so they were able to release their own clothing line! It was all about merchandising!

Shortly thereafter I discovered film festivals. Where a sixteen year old with a Sony Handycam could generally be counted on to come up with something more interesting than Hollywood and a $23 million dollar budget. I was watching a really fun little movie last Saturday morning from 1932 that I thought was original, it was a remake from 1920! That’s all the last few years have been. So this morning I happen upon Un Carnet de Bal. A French film of course where a just widowed Christine takes the death of her husband to examine her own life. No children, just a haunting dream of a ball from 20 years ago and of the men who were on the dance card of her coming out party.

Having nothing to tie her down now, she decides to travel to look up the men from that night to see what has become of them. Some have died. Some have found their dreams. Many have not. Just fascinating vignettes as we drop in to observe lives that have been in motion the entire time, we just weren’t there to see them. Each sphere orbiting its own little world. Christine drops in for a moment of time and then moves on to the next on the list of 20 men. Simple men, complex men, good-hearted men, bad men.

Immediately below Christine on the upper left of the picture was my favorite encounter, the one with Alain Regnault (portrayed by an incredible actor named Harry Baur). The scene embodies everything lacking in American film. The understated nature. The focus on human emotions and not car chases and shootouts. Alain is now a Monk who leads a boys choir for at risk youth. His one true love having spurned him decades before. Now he tries to teach these boys the morals missing from today’s childhoods. The idea that the soul of a youth was to be nurtured and strengthened. Not coddled and ignored.

This movie from 1937 was in such contrast to American movies of the time. They seemed to be all about talking fast, drinking a lot and zinging one-liners (think William Powell, Myrna Loy, Clark Gable, Rosalind Russell). European films of the time weren’t stuck in a time warp so to speak. The people talked and acted like they do today, they just happened to be in black and white. Its never been so stark a difference as in their silent films. Watch a French, German, Danish, Italian, Norwegian, Japanese or Indian silent film and compare it to an American film.

Its like 10 year old’s with bad taste made the American films. The exaggerated body motions, ridiculous facial expressions. Everything was slapstick. So much of American film then seemed to be about spectacular train wrecks, impossible car chases, and death defying physical stunts. Lacking was any subtlety or nuance, all they had was a hammer and everything else was a nail. The overall impression I have of Hollywood film through the decades was their condescension for the American audience, or their complete lack of ability.