Old Movies
I had a sick day this week in which I found myself watching an old movie from the 40’s I hadn’t seen for quite a few years. I was struck by how influential these movies were to me as a young boy. As a boy I was persuaded somewhere people actually lived like they did in these films. They dressed for dinner, they talked with a mid-Atlantic accent, they uttered witty bits of dialogue. Surely a world existed where these things actually happened because the movies were about real life weren’t they? So for a period of time, I imagined my mother and father grew up in an era where phrases like “I suspect Dora, you’re a treasure”, were bandied about, where they called each other “darling”, wore spectacular hats, and smoked cigarettes as if they were making love. And photographed so beautifully. Watch Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, and how carefully one tear cascades down her cheek, watch Bette Davis’ eyes well up and how beautifully they glistened, the black and white heightening the glamour playing with shadow in a way colour falls embarrassingly short. What a world it created for the audience.
It irritates me when that style of film making is misunderstood and seen as inferior to current cinema. Of course acting has changed, actors no longer need to carry on with that odd accent, however few actors today could pull off the dialogue of the thirties and the forties, they’d be laughed off the screen. There was a operatic feel to cinema in the past, everything was bigger. The passion they embraced each other, the intensity the characters experienced in a break down or emotional outburst. So big, so demanding.