Having departed Pordenone at zero dark thirty this morning, Mrs. C and I are back on the wine trail. We’re bound for Hungary after a week’s cinematic interlude at #PordenoneSilent. Here’s the ethereal Dolomite view out the train window as we cross into Austria from Tarvisio.

With its Vienna-Secession-gone-to-seed decor and Trump-coiffed male cast, the dreamscape of 𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙪𝙞𝙣𝙚 (Robert Wiene, 1920) was sufficiently nightmarish to give censors conniptions. What remains, with comprehensible (and Philistine) bookends, is still deliciously odd. #PordenoneSilent #GCM45

With 𝙇𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙖 𝙙𝙞 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚 (Mario Almirante, 1921), #PordenoneSilent again reminds us there’s nothing new under the sun or in front of the projector’s lamp. The film prefigures 𝙑𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙜𝙤, and as with 𝙇𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙖 𝙚 𝙞𝙡 𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙩𝙤, once more we wonder: is she, or isn’t she? (Dead, that is.) #GCM45

The spirited, indefatigable 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪 narration, the precise, delicate musicianship, and the transfiguring beauty and emotion of Kenji Mizoguchi’s film made #PordenoneSilent’s presentation of 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙈𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙣 (1918) a rare and abiding cinematic experience. #GCM45

𝙈’𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙨 (Marshall Neilan, 1918), alas, though inspired by a Bret Harte story, seems content to devolve, via intertitles, into a comedic showcase of rustic American dialect and matching antics. An arch indictment of a Bible-addled school board provides some relief. #PordenoneSilent #GCM45

The Swedish films are shining at #PordenoneSilent. I’ll mention again the stunning 𝘽𝙚𝙧𝙜-𝙀𝙟𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙘𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪. Now I bring you 𝙂𝙮𝙪𝙧𝙠𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙨𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙖 (John W. Brunius, 1920): a screwball comedy par excellence. If you deem Eugene Pallette 𝘴𝘶𝘪 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘴 (as did I), let me tell you about Emile Stiebel. #GCM45

Pola Negri’s “Pola” in 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖 a femme fatale? Ha! Now, Hedda Vernon’s “Loni” in 𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙂𝙞𝙛𝙩 (Hubert Moest, 1919)—there’s the real deal. “Blondes gift,” I should point out, is German for “blonde poison.” #PordenoneSilent #GCM45

The name of 𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙖 (Aleksander Hertz, 1917), like its American intertiltles, gives the impression that Pola Negri’s character is a femme fatale. In fact, though, Negri plays the part sympathetically, as a talented and complex figure undercut by the chicanery of others. #PordenoneSilent #GCM45

Alice and Ralph? Lucy and Ricky? Laura and Rob? We owe them all to Mrs. Sidney Drew and her husband, Sidney. See, e.g., 𝙁𝙤𝙭 𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙩 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚 (Mrs. Sidney Drew, 1915). #PordenoneSilent #GCM45

You think you know love stories? Go see 𝘽𝙚𝙧𝙜-𝙀𝙟𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙘𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪 (Victor Sjöström, 1918), then we’ll talk. #PordenoneSilent #GCM45

In 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙣’𝙨 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮 (D.W. Griffith, 1909), a pompous, egotistical politico’s hat and mustache (read dyed-blond combover & long tie) are ridiculed by a cartoonist. Politico sets out to kill artist; she literally disarms him while the male publisher & editors cower. #PordenoneSilent #GCM45

𝘿𝙞𝙚 𝙏𝙚𝙪𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚 (Hans Mierendorff, 1919? 1920?) briefly, and plausibly, explores the possibility of a Christian, pietistic form of hedonism; then the ending—“Just kidding! It was all a bad dream!”—sets us back on the straight and narrow. #PordenoneSilent #GCM45

Mary Astor puts the swash in Douglas Fairbanks’s buckle in 𝘿𝙤𝙣 𝙌, 𝙎𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙕𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤 (Donald Crisp, 1925). #PordenoneSilent #GCM45

Italia Almirante Manzini is like Kay Francis and Norma Shearer rolled into one in 𝙇𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙖 𝙚 𝙞𝙡 𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙩𝙤 (Augusto Genina, 1919). And wow, what a plot! #PordenoneSilent #GCM45