Panique (1946)...or Not

Sometimes, I display the extraordinary ability of falling asleep during movies at any time of day (this aptitude unfortunately doesn't extend to planes or anywhere sensible like that). So even though it was my first cinematic outing of the day, I felt myself growing a tad tired during Beat the Devil. I knew the odds weren't in my favor for an English-subtitled French noir - even though it was only 1:30pm - so as much as I wanted to stay for Panique, I actually ghosted right before the intro began and opted for some afternoon sustenance instead - and a head start on So This is Paris. In my mind, I re-play this situation as a noble one, in which I gave up my spot to someone who would appreciate the film more fully/alertly than I would have, as the theater was either sold out or extremely close to doing so. (But really, I was just tired and hungry.)

So This is Paris (1926)

In keeping with my amazing capability of dozing off during movies, I must admit that the first time I watched So This is Paris it was tough-going; silent films present a particular problem for me, even when they are accompanied by live music (which they generally are when theatrically screened). As TCMFF basically gifted me with an encore of such a rarity, I knew heavy eyelids were not an option this time around. A semi-nutritious lunch (with a veggie cameo) and sips of nitro cold brew coffee helped; I figured the "nitro" - whatever that means - would basically give me superpowers, right? Anyway, if you haven't seen So This is Paris and are ever presented the opportunity to do so, please jump on that. Ernst Lubitsch's flapper era comedy is a joy from start to finish, topped with wit, charm and joie de vivre, to boot! I've used this phrase before but have no shame in sharing it again, because I think it's true: the famous chaotic dance montage is the cinematic equivalent of chugging champagne, as it delivers an instant dizzying shot of energy that I don't think I've ever experienced before. And the four main actors fit their roles to a 'T,' particularly George Beranger who nails every. single. facial. expression. 

The Great Nickelodeon Show

This was one of the toughest slots to choose from. Many people I knew were jaunting off to Red-Headed Woman (1932), a fact I was slightly jealous over (you can read why here), but TCMFF's special presentations in the past, such as The Return of the Dream Machine and Amazing Film Discoveries with Serge Bromberg, have usually turned into fest highlights for me. As with So This is Paris, I figured this rare re-creation would be a tough show to get in to, but neither were. (I think for this block, the competition was just a bit too tough.) Anyway, I believe this was the first time TCMFF incorporated live performances into the fest - or at least, the first time I can recall - as five performers recreated an evening at the local Nickelodeon, circa the early 1900s. One man played the piano, another delivered dramatic recitations (including coverage of President McKinley's assassination), others sang popular/rather outrageous songs - assumingly of the day - and prompted the audience to sing-a-long, and perhaps most stunningly, a man performed an anti-magic trick...where he hammered a 4 inch nail into his face. That's not fake news; it was actually a real thing that happened, and I was slightly squeamish the whole time. These little skits were intermixed with shorts from the 1900s and early 1910s, like Lois Weber's Supsense (1913), which still has me on the edge of my seat every single time I see it. For the most part, the proceedings were light and comedic, though I'm not sure how authentic the songs, recitations and acts were (if they know for certain they were performed in nickelodeons, for instance); regardless, it was quite an amusing and engaging evening - bravo to all involved! I probably sound like a broken record by now, but expect to hear more about this 'performance'... sometime this year.

Those Redheads from Seattle (1953)

Occasionally, on a whim I'll join the red-headed club for a few months, and since I missed Red-Headed Woman, I had to make up for the oversight somehow. No, really, this was a tough time slot too! While I would have loved seeing Laura (1944) on nitrate, or laugh along with Carole Lombard and John Barrymore in Twentieth Century (1934), or finally watch Cat People (1942), which I've been urged to see in a theater for years, I selected a film in a genre I usually never choose at TCMFF - musicals - because 1. this is a rarity and 2. it's in 3D!