Watch Anémic Cinéma, Marcel Duchamp’s Whirling Avant-Garde Film (1926)

Mar­cel Duchamp (1887–1968) made some heady art. His whole goal was to “put art back in the ser­vice of the mind,” or to cre­ate what Jasper Johns once called the “field where lan­guage, thought and vision act on one anoth­er.” And that’s pre­cise­ly what Ducham­p’s 1926 avant-garde film Anémic Ciné­ma deliv­ers. You can watch a restored ver­sion above.

Draw­ing on his inher­i­tance, Duchamp shot Anémic Ciné­ma (almost a palin­drome) in Man Ray’s stu­dio with the help of cin­e­matog­ra­ph­er Marc Allé­gret. The Dada-inspired film fea­tures nine whirling opti­cal illu­sions, known as Rotore­liefs, alter­nat­ing with spi­ral­ing puns and com­plex word play. Vision acts on lan­guage and thought, indeed.

Anémic Ciné­ma appears in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

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Relat­ed Con­tent 

How Mar­cel Duchamp Signed a Uri­nal in 1917 & Rede­fined Art

How Man Ray Rein­vent­ed Him­self & Cre­at­ed One of the Most Icon­ic Works of Sur­re­al­ist Pho­tog­ra­phy

When John Cage & Mar­cel Duchamp Played Chess on a Chess­board That Turned Chess Moves Into Elec­tron­ic Music (1968)

Man Ray and the Ciné­ma Pur: Four Sur­re­al­ist Films From the 1920s

 

Salvador Dalí Goes to Hollywood & Creates a Wild Dream Sequence for Alfred Hitchcock

Sal­vador Dalí and Luis Buñuel report­ed­ly car­ried rocks in their pock­ets dur­ing the pre­miere of their first film Un Chien Andalou, antic­i­pat­ing a vio­lent reac­tion from the audi­ence.

It was a fair con­cern. The movie might be almost 90 years old but it still has the pow­er to pro­voke – the film fea­tures a shot of a woman get­ting her eye slashed open with a straight razor after all. As it turned out, rocks weren’t need­ed. The audi­ence, filled with such avant-garde lumi­nar­ies as Pablo Picas­so and André Bre­ton liked the film. A dis­ap­point­ed Dalí lat­er report­ed that the night was “less excit­ing” than he had hoped.

Un Chien Andalou fea­tured many of Dalí’s visu­al obses­sions – eye­balls, ants crawl­ing out of ori­fices and rot­ting ani­mals. Dalí delight­ed in shock­ing and incit­ing peo­ple with his gor­geous, dis­turb­ing images. And he loved grandiose spec­ta­cles like a riot at a movie the­ater.

Dalí and Buñuel’s next movie, the caus­tic L’Age d’or, exposed the dif­fer­ences between the two artists and their cre­ative part­ner­ship implod­ed in pre-pro­duc­tion. Buñuel went on to make a string of sub­ver­sive mas­ter­pieces like Land With­out Bread, The Exter­mi­nat­ing Angel and The Dis­creet Charm of the Bour­geoisie; Dalí large­ly quit film in favor of his beau­ti­ful­ly craft­ed paint­ings.

Then Hol­ly­wood came call­ing.

Alfred Hitch­cock hired Dalí to cre­ate a dream sequence for his 1945 movie Spell­bound. Dalí craft­ed over 20 min­utes of footage of which rough­ly four and a half min­utes made it into the movie. “I want­ed to con­vey the dream with great visu­al sharp­ness and clarity–sharper than film itself,” Hitch­cock explained to Fran­cois Truf­faut in 1962. The sequence, which you can see up top, is filled with all sorts of Daliesque motifs – slashed eye­balls, naked women and phan­tas­magoric land­scapes. It is also the most mem­o­rable part of an oth­er­wise minor work by Hitch­cock.

Dalí’s fol­low-up film work was for, of all things, the Vin­cente Min­nel­li com­e­dy Father of the Bride (1950). Spencer Tra­cy plays Stan­ley Banks whose beau­ti­ful daugh­ter (Eliz­a­beth Tay­lor, no less) is get­ting mar­ried. As Stanley’s anx­i­ety over the impend­ing nup­tials spi­rals, he has one very weird night­mare. Cue Dalí. Stan­ley is late to the wed­ding. As he rush­es down the aisle, his clothes mys­te­ri­ous­ly get shred­ded by the tiled floor that bounces and con­torts like a piece of flesh.

This dream sequence, which you can see imme­di­ate­ly above, has few of the visu­al flour­ish­es of Spell­bound, but it still has plen­ty of Dalí’s trade­mark weird­ness. Those float­ing accusato­ry eyes. The way that Tracy’s leg seems to stretch. That floor.

Father of the Bride marked the end of Dalí’s work in Hol­ly­wood, though there were a cou­ple poten­tial col­lab­o­ra­tions that would have been amaz­ing had they actu­al­ly hap­pened. Dalí had an idea for a movie with the Marx Broth­ers called Giraffes on Horse­back Sal­ad. The movie would have “includ­ed a scene of giraffes wear­ing gas masks and one of Chico sport­ing a deep-div­ing suit while play­ing the piano.” Though Har­po was report­ed­ly enthu­si­as­tic about the pro­posed idea, Grou­cho wasn’t and the idea sad­ly came to noth­ing.

Lat­er in life, Dalí became a fix­ture on the talk show cir­cuit. On the Dick Cavett Show in 1970, he flung an anteater at Lil­lian Gish.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2014.

Relat­ed Con­tent: 

Alfred Hitch­cock Recalls Work­ing with Sal­vador Dali on Spell­bound: “No, You Can’t Pour Live Ants All Over Ingrid Bergman!”

Sal­vador Dalí Strolls onto The Dick Cavett Show with an Anteater, Then Talks About Dreams & Sur­re­al­ism, the Gold­en Ratio & More (1970)

Alfred Hitch­cock Recalls Work­ing with Sal­vador Dali on Spell­bound

37 Hitch­cock Cameo Appear­ances Over 50 Years: All in One Video

Two Vin­tage Films by Sal­vador Dalí and Luis Buñuel: Un Chien Andalou and L’Age d’Or

Jonathan Crow is a writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. Y

How Jackie Chan Filmed the Best Fight Scene in Cinema History

Though now in his sev­en­ties, Jack­ie Chan con­tin­ues to appear on the big screen with reg­u­lar­i­ty. For most world-famous actors, that’s hard­ly notable, but it’s not as if Sir John Giel­gud, say, had spent decades film­ing scenes of hand-to-hand com­bat and sus­tain­ing severe injuries in the per­for­mance of elab­o­rate stunts. View­ers of New Police Sto­ry 2 and Rush Hour 4, to name just two upcom­ing fran­chise projects, will sure­ly delight, as always, in Chan’s very screen pres­ence. But it goes with­out say­ing that he won’t be attempt­ing any­thing like what he did in his break­out Hong Kong films of the sev­en­ties and eight­ies, which required a sin­gu­lar ded­i­ca­tion both phys­i­cal and cin­e­mat­ic.

There are also fans who argue that Chan reached his peak in the nineties, most of whom would adduce the cli­mac­tic fight scene above from Drunk­en Mas­ter II. Made in 1994, when Chan was 40 years old, it came as the osten­si­ble sequel to Drunk­en Mas­ter, from 1978, in which Chan’s por­tray­al of the tit­u­lar Qing dynasty folk hero launched him to star­dom in Asia.

Released in the U.S. as The Leg­end of Drunk­en Mas­ter in 2000 — after Chan had final­ly made it state­side with Rum­ble in the Bronx and the first Rush Hour Drunk­en Mas­ter II met with crit­i­cal aston­ish­ment. “It involves some of the most intri­cate, dif­fi­cult and joy­ful­ly exe­cut­ed action sequences I have ever seen,” wrote Roger Ebert. His judg­ment of the final, steel-forge-set show­down: “It may not be pos­si­ble to film a bet­ter fight scene.” The Rossatron video below explains how the scene has drawn such reac­tions.

One ele­ment has been key to Chan’s suc­cess from the begin­ning: his humor, vis­i­bly descend­ed from the phys­i­cal com­e­dy of West­ern silent stars like Char­lie Chap­lin and Buster Keaton, which comes through even in the midst of the most intense hand-to-hand com­bat. In Drunk­en Mas­ter II, it’s “not only a pleas­ing addi­tion to the film, but a nec­es­sary part of the sto­ry itself,” through the course of which Chan’s pro­tag­o­nist must gain con­trol over the style of “drunk­en box­ing” born of his own fond­ness for the bot­tle. It is con­trolled drunk­en­ness, of course, that even­tu­al­ly brings him vic­to­ry in his both car­toon­ish and mas­ter­ful last fight, which required four months to shoot under the direc­tion of the star him­self (the film’s actu­al direc­tor Lau Kar-leung hav­ing ced­ed con­trol of the scene due to styl­is­tic dif­fer­ences). Today, there may be no action-com­e­dy per­former equal to Jack­ie Chan in his prime. But even if there were, would any stu­dio allow him so much of the oth­er secret ingre­di­ent, time?

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed con­tent:

Kung Fu & Mar­tial Arts Movies Online

The Only Footage of Bruce Lee Fight­ing for Real (1967)

The Grace­ful Move­ments of Kung Fu & Mod­ern Dance Revealed in Stun­ning Motion Visu­al­iza­tions

Rad­i­cal French Phi­los­o­phy Meets Kung-Fu Cin­e­ma in Can Dialec­tics Break Bricks? (1973)

Why Is Jack­ie Chan the King of Action Com­e­dy? A Video Essay Mas­ter­ful­ly Makes the Case

How Char­lie Chap­lin, Buster Keaton & Harold Lloyd Pulled Off Their Spec­tac­u­lar Stunts Dur­ing Silent Film’s Gold­en Age

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

50+ Free Charlie Chaplin Films Online

A few things to know about Char­lie Chap­lin. He starred in over 80 films, reel­ing off most dur­ing the silent film era. In 1914 alone, he act­ed in 40 films, then anoth­er 15 in 1915. By the 1920s, Chap­lin had emerged as the first larg­er-than-life movie star and direc­tor, if not the most rec­og­niz­able per­son in the world. Thanks to YouTube, you can watch 50+ Chap­lin films on the web. Above, you will find a Chap­lin mini-film fes­ti­val that brings togeth­er four movies shot in 1917: The Adven­tur­er, The Cure, Easy Street and The Immi­grant. And then below you’ll find 50+ oth­er films arranged in a neat list. Many can be oth­er­wise found in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

  • A Bur­lesque On Car­men — Free — Orig­i­nal two-reel par­o­dy of Bizet’s Car­men by Char­lie Chap­lin. Also stars Leo White & Edna Pur­viance. (1915)
  • A Busy DayFree — Chap­lin plays a wife jeal­ous of her hus­band’s inter­est in anoth­er woman, played by Phyl­lis Allen. On her way to attack the cou­ple, the wife inter­rupts the set of a film, knock­ing over a film direc­tor, played by Mack Sen­nett, and a police­man, played by Bil­ly Gilbert. (1914)
  • A Day’s Plea­sureFree — “Chap­lin’s fourth film for First Nation­al Films. It was cre­at­ed at the Chap­lin Stu­dio. It was a quick­ly made two-reel­er to help fill a gap while work­ing on his first fea­ture The Kid. It is about a day out­ing with his wife and the kids and things don’t go smooth­ly.” (1919)
  • A Dog’s Life — Free – This endear­ing short Chap­lin film tells the sto­ry of under­dogs, human and canine, suc­ceed­ing despite the odds. (1918)
  • A Fair ExchangeFree — Orig­i­nal­ly released as Get­ting Acquaint­ed, the film’s plot has been sum­ma­rized as fol­lows: “Char­lie and his wife are walk­ing in the park when they encounter Ambrose and his wife. The part­ners become fond of their coun­ter­parts and begin chas­ing each oth­er around. A police­man look­ing for a pro­fes­sion­al Don Juan becomes involved, as does a Turk.” (1914)
  • A Film John­nie - Free — Char­lie goes to the movie and falls in love with a girl on the screen. (1914)
  • A Night in the ShowFree — Chap­lin played two roles: one as Mr. Pest and one as Mr. Row­dy. The film was cre­at­ed from Chap­lin’s stage work from a play called Mum­ming Birds. (1915)
  • A Night OutFree — “After a vis­it to a pub, Char­lie and Ben cause a ruckus at a posh restau­rant. Char­lie lat­er finds him­self in a com­pro­mis­ing posi­tion at a hotel with the head wait­er’s wife.” (1915)
  • A WomanFree — This Chap­lin film starts with Char­lie meet­ing Edna (Edna Pur­viance) and her par­ents in a park; the moth­er is played by Mar­ta Gold­en and the father by Charles Ins­ley. (1915)
  • Behind the Screen – Free – A short film writ­ten and direct­ed by Chap­lin, the film is long on slap­stick, but it also gets into themes deal­ing with gen­der bend­ing and homo­sex­u­al­i­ty. (1916)
  • Between Show­ers - Free — A short Key­stone film from 1914 star­ring Char­lie Chap­lin, Ford Ster­ling, and Emma Bell Clifton.
  • By the SeaFree — “It is windy at a bathing resort. After fight­ing with one of the two hus­bands, Char­lie approach­es Edna while the two hus­bands them­selves fight over ice cream. Dri­ven away by her hus­band, Char­lie turns to the oth­er’s wife.” (1915)
  • Caught in a CabaretFree —  Char­lie is a clum­sy wait­er in a cheap cabaret, suf­fer­ing the strict orders from his boss. He’ll meet a pret­ty girl in the park, pre­tend­ing to be a fan­cy ambas­sador, despite the jeal­ousy of her fiancée. (1914)
  • Char­lie Shang­haied — Free — Char­lie Chap­lin and his Tramp char­ac­ter gets shang­haied by crooks. (1915)
  • Char­lie’s Recre­ationFree — Out of cos­tume, Char­lie is a clean-shaven dandy who, some­what drunk, vis­its a dance hall. There the wardrobe girl has three rival admir­ers: the band leader, one of the musi­cians, and now Char­lie. (1914).
  • Char­lotte et Le Man­nequinFree — Also known as Mabel’s Mar­ried Life, the film’s plot is sum­ma­rized as fol­lows: “Accost­ed by a mash­er in the park and unable to moti­vate hus­band Char­lie into tak­ing action, Mabel gets him a box­ing man­nequin to sharp­en his fight­ing skills.” (1914)
  • Cru­el Cru­el Love - Free — Chap­lin plays a rich, upper-class gen­tle­man whose romance is endan­gered when his girl­friend over­sees him being embraced by a maid. (1914)
  • Face on a Bar­room FloorFree — “The plot is a satire derived from Hugh Antoine D’Ar­cy’s poem of the same title. The painter courts Madeleine but los­es to the wealthy client who sits for his por­trait. The despair­ing artist draws the girl’s por­trait on the bar­room floor and gets tossed out. Years lat­er he sees her, her hus­band and their horde of chil­dren. Unrec­og­nized by her, Char­lie shakes off his trou­bles and walks off into the future.” (1914)
  • Gen­tle­men of NerveFree — “Mabel and her beau go to an auto race and are joined by Char­lie and his friend. As Char­lie’s friend is attempt­ing to enter the race­way through a hole, the friend gets stuck and a police­man shows up. Char­lie sprays the police­man with soda until [his] friends makes it through the hole. In the grand­stand, Mabel aban­dons her beau for Char­lie. Both Char­lie’s friend and Mabel’s are arrest­ed and hauled away.” (1914)
  • His Favorite Pas­timeFree — Char­lie gets drunk in the bar. He steps out­side, meets a pret­ty woman, tries to flirt with her, only to retreat after the wom­an’s father returns. (1914)
  • His New JobFree — “Char­lie is try­ing to get a job in a movie. After caus­ing dif­fi­cul­ty on the set he is told to help the car­pen­ter. When one of the actors does­n’t show, Char­lie is giv­en a chance to act but instead enters a dice game. When he does final­ly act he ruins the scene, wrecks the set and tears the skirt from the star.” (1915)
  • His Pre­his­toric PastFree — “Char­lie dreams he is in the stone age. There King Low-Brow rules a harem of wives. Char­lie, in skins and a bowler, falls in love with the king’s favorite wife, Sum-Babee. Dur­ing a hunt­ing trip the king is pushed over a cliff. Char­lie pro­claims him­self king, but Ku-Ku dis­cov­ers the real king alive. They return to find Char­lie and Sum- Babee togeth­er.” (1914)
  • His Tryst­ing PlaceFree — “Char­lie’s wife sends him to the store for a baby bot­tle with milk. Else­where, Ambrose offers to post a love let­ter for a woman in his board­ing house. The two men meet at a restau­rant and each takes the oth­er’s coat by mis­take. Char­lie’s wife thinks he has a lover; Ambrose’s believes he has an ille­git­i­mate child.” (1914)
  • In the ParkFree — “A tramp steals a girl’s hand­bag, but when he tries to pick Char­lie’s pock­et los­es his cig­a­rettes and match­es. He res­cues a hot dog man from a thug, but takes a few with his walk­ing stick. When the thief tries to take some of Char­lie’s sausages, Char­lie gets the hand­bag. The hand­bag makes its way from per­son to per­son to its own­er, who is angry with her boyfriend who did­n’t pro­tect her in the first place. The boyfriend decides to throw him­self in the lake in despair, so Char­lie helps him out.” (1915)
  • Kid Auto Races at Venice – Free – It’s the first film in which Char­lie Chap­lin’s icon­ic “Lit­tle Tramp” char­ac­ter makes his appear­ance. (1914)
  • Laugh­ing Gas - Free — Film star­ring Chap­lin is some­times known as “Busy Lit­tle Den­tist”, “Down and Out”, “Laffing Gas”, “The Den­tist”, and “Tun­ing His Ivories”.
  • Mabel’s Busy DayFree — “A hot­dog girl gives one to a police­man who then allows her into a race track. While oth­er cus­tomers swipe her hot­dogs, Char­lie runs off with the whole box, pre­tend­ing to sell them while actu­al­ly giv­ing them away. She calls her police­man who bat­tles Char­lie.” (1914)
  • Mabel’s Strange Predica­mentFree — Watch lots and lots of high jinks go down in a hotel. (1914)
  • Mak­ing a Liv­ing — Free – Pre­mier­ing on Feb­ru­ary 2, 1914, Mak­ing a Liv­ing marks the first film appear­ance by Char­lie Chap­lin.
  • Musi­cal TrampsFree — “Char­lie and his part­ner are to deliv­er a piano to 666 Prospect St. and repos­sess one from 999 Prospect St. They con­fuse the address­es. The dif­fi­cul­ties of deliv­er­ing the piano by mule cart, and most of the spe­cif­ic gags, appeared lat­er in Lau­rel and Hardy’s ‘The Music Box’.” (1914)
  • One A.M.Free — The first silent film Char­lie Chap­lin starred in alone. (1916)
  • PoliceFree — “Police was Char­lie Chap­lin’s 14th released film from Essanay. It was made at the Majes­tic Stu­dio in Los Ange­les. Char­lie play­ing an ex-con­vict finds life on the out­side not to his lik­ing and leads him to break­ing into a home with anoth­er thief (Wes­ley Rug­gles). Edna Pur­viance plays the girl liv­ing in the home who tries to change him.” (1916)
  • Shoul­der ArmsFree — Char­lie is a boot camp pri­vate who has a dream of being a hero who goes on a dar­ing mis­sion behind ene­my lines. (1918)
  • Sun­ny­sideFree — “Char­lie works on a farm from 4am to late at night. He gets his food on the run (milk­ing a cow into his cof­fee, hold­ing an chick­en over the fry­ing pan to get fried eggs). He loves the neigh­bor’s daugh­ter Edna but is dis­liked by her father. He rides a cow into a stream and is kicked off. Uncon­scious, he dreams of a nymph dance. Back in real­i­ty a city slick­er is hurt in a car crash and is being cared for by Edna. When Char­lie is reject­ed after attempt­ing to imi­tate the slick­er, the result is ambiguous–either trag­ic or a hap­py end­ing. Crit­ics have long argued as to whether the final scene is real or a dream.” (1919)
  • The BankFree — “Char­lie does every­thing but an effi­cient job as jan­i­tor. Edna buys her fiance, the cashier, a birth­day present. Char­lie thinks “To Charles with Love” is for him. He presents her a rose which she throws in the garbage. Depressed, Char­lie dreams of a bank rob­bery and his hero­ic role in sav­ing the man­ag­er and Edna … but it is only a dream.”
  • The BondFree — A pro­pa­gan­da film cre­at­ed and fund­ed by Chap­lin for the­atri­cal release to help sell U.S. Lib­er­ty Bonds dur­ing World War I. (1918)
  • The Cham­pi­on — Free — “Walk­ing along with his bull­dog, Char­lie finds a “good luck” horse­shoe just as he pass­es a train­ing camp adver­tis­ing for a box­ing part­ner “who can take a beat­ing.” After watch­ing oth­ers lose, Char­lie puts the horse­shoe in his glove and wins. The train­er pre­pares Char­lie to fight the world cham­pi­on. A gam­bler wants Char­lie to throw the fight. He and the train­er’s daugh­ter fall in love.” (1915)
  • The CountFree — The Count was Char­lie Chap­lin’s 5th film for Mutu­al Films. Co-star­ring Eric Camp­bell and Edna Pur­viance, it is a sto­ry about Char­lie and his boss find­ing an invi­ta­tion to a par­ty from a real Count. (1916)
  • The Fatal Mal­letFree — Three men will fight for the love of a charm­ing girl. Char­lie will play dirty, throw­ing bricks to his con­tender, and using a huge ham­mer to hurt one of them. But a pre­co­cious kid will be the fourth suit­or in dis­cord. (1914)
  • The Fire­manFree — Char­lie Chaplin’s sec­ond short for Mutu­al con­tin­ued his focus on gags and situations—as the title sug­gests, Chap­lin plays the role of an inept fire­fight­er. (1916)
  • The Floor­walk­erFree — “The Floor­walk­er was Char­lie Chap­lin’s first Mutu­al Film Com­pa­ny made in 1916. It starred Chap­lin as a cus­tomer in a depart­ment store who finds out the man­ag­er is steal­ing mon­ey from the store. It was not­ed for the first ‘run­ning stair­case’ used in films.” (1916)
  • The Good for Noth­ing — Free — Made at the Key­stone Stu­dios, the film involves Chap­lin tak­ing care of a man in a wheel­chair. (1914)
  • The Immi­grantFree — Chap­lin, in the role of the Tramp char­ac­ter, plays an immi­grant com­ing to the Unit­ed States. He gets accused of theft while on a voy­age across the Atlantic Ocean. (1917)
  • The Kid - Free — The Kid is a 1921 Amer­i­can silent com­e­dy-dra­ma film writ­ten, pro­duced, direct­ed and star­ring Char­lie Chap­lin, and fea­tures Jack­ie Coogan as his foundling baby, adopt­ed son and side­kick. This was Chap­lin’s first full-length film as a direc­tor. (1921)
  • The Knock­outFree —  Char­lie Chap­lin’s sev­en­teenth film for Key­stone Stu­dios. Chap­lin only has a small role, and Fat­ty Arbuck­le takes up the main role. (1914)
  • The Land­la­dy’s PetFree — Oth­er­wise known as The Star Board­er, the film turns around this theme: A brat’s mag­ic lantern show expos­es an indis­creet moment between a land­la­dy and her star board­er. (1914)
  • The Mas­quer­ad­erFree — “Char­lie is an actor in a film stu­dio. He mess­es up sev­er­al scenes and is tossed out. Return­ing dressed as a lady, he charms the direc­tor. Even so, Char­lie nev­er makes it into film, wind­ing up at the bot­tom of a well.” (1914)
  • The New Jan­i­torFree — “Char­lie is jan­i­tor for a firm the man­ag­er of which receives a threat­en­ing note about his gam­bling debts. He throws a buck­et of water out the win­dow which lands on his boss and costs him his job. The boss, attempt­ing to steal the mon­ey heeds from the office safe, is caught by his sec­re­tary and Char­lie comes to save her and the mon­ey. He is briefly accused of being the thief but ulti­mate­ly tri­umphs.” (1914)
  • The Pawn­shop – Free – Rich in slap­stick, The Pawn­shop was one of Chap­lin’s more pop­u­lar movies for Mutu­al Film, the pro­duc­er of many fine Chap­lin come­dies. (1916)
  • The Prop­er­ty ManFree — “Char­lie has trou­ble with actors’ lug­gage and con­flicts over who gets the star’s dress­ing room. There are fur­ther dif­fi­cul­ties with fre­quent scene changes, wrong entries and a fire­man’s hose. At one point he jug­gles an ath­lete’s sup­posed weights. The humor is still rough: he kicks an old­er assis­tant in the face and allows him to be run over by a truck.” (1914)
  • The Rink – FreeThe Rink, Chap­lin’s 8th film for Mutu­al Films, show­cas­es the actor’s roller skat­ing abil­i­ties. (1916)
  • The Rival Mash­ers — Free — “Char­lie and a rival vie for the favors of their land­la­dy. In the park they each fall dif­fer­ent girls, though Char­lie’s has a male friend already. Char­lie con­sid­ers sui­cide, is talked out of it by a police­man, and lat­er throws his girl’s friend into the lake. Fright­ened, the girls go off to a movie. Char­lie shows up there and flirts with them. Lat­er both rivals sub­sti­tute them­selves for the girls and attack the unwit­ting Char­lie. In an audi­ence-wide fight, Char­lie is tossed from the screen.” (1914)
  • The RoundersFree — Writes IMDB: “Two drunks live in the same hotel. One beats his wife, the oth­er is beat­en by his. They go off and get drunk togeth­er. They try to sleep in a restau­rant using tables as beds and are thrown out. They lie down in a row boat which fills with water, drown­ing them (a fate appar­ent­ly bet­ter than going home to their wives).” (1914)
  • The Tramp - Free — The film made Chap­lin’s great Tramp char­ac­ter famous. (1915)
  • The VagabondFree — A silent film by Char­lie Chap­lin that co-starred Edna Pur­viance, Eric Camp­bell, Leo White and Lloyd Bacon, with Chap­lin appear­ing as The Tramp. The British Film Insti­tute calls it the “piv­otal work” of his Mutu­al peri­od – “and his most touch­ing.” (1916)
  • Tillie’s Punc­tured Romance – Free – Among oth­er things, the film is notable for being the last film that Chap­lin did­n’t write or direct by him­self. (1914)
  • Triple Trou­bleFree — “As Colonel Nutt is exper­i­ment­ing with explo­sives, a new jan­i­tor is join­ing his house­hold. The inept jan­i­tor pro­ceeds to make life dif­fi­cult for the rest of the staff. Mean­while, a for­eign agent arrives at the house in hopes of get­ting Col. Nut­t’s lat­est inven­tion. The inven­tor throws him out, so the agent then employs a thug to get the for­mu­la. When police head to the Nutt home to start an inves­ti­ga­tion, a com­pli­cat­ed fra­cas ensues.” (1918)
  • Twen­ty Min­utes of LoveFree — IMDB sum­ma­rizes thus­ly: “Char­lie is hang­ing around in the park, find­ing prob­lems with a jeal­ous suit­or, a man who thinks that Char­lie has robbed him of a watch, a police­man and even a lit­tle boy, all because our friend can’t stop snoop­ing.” (1914)
  • WorkFree — “Char­lie and his boss have dif­fi­cul­ties just get­ting to the house they are going to wall­pa­per. The house­hold­er is angry because he can’t get break­fast and his wife is scream­ing at the maid as they arrive. The kitchen gas stove explodes, and Char­lie offers to fix it. The wife’s secret lover arrives and is passed off as the work­ers’ super­vi­sor, but the hus­band does­n’t buy this and fires shots. The stove explodes vio­lent­ly, destroy­ing the house.” (1915)

Most of the quot­ed sum­maries above were writ­ten by Ed Stephan on IMDB.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2011. Some of the links and text have been updat­ed.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

When Char­lie Chap­lin Entered a Chap­lin Look-Alike Con­test & Came in 20th Place

What Would the World of Char­lie Chap­lin Look Like in Col­or?: Watch a Col­or­ful­ly Restored Ver­sion of A Night at the Show (1915)

The Char­lie Chap­lin Archive Opens, Putting Online 30,000 Pho­tos & Doc­u­ments from the Life of the Icon­ic Film Star

Char­lie Chap­lin Gets Strapped into a Dystopi­an “Rube Gold­berg Machine,” a Fright­ful Com­men­tary on Mod­ern Cap­i­tal­ism

Char­lie Chap­lin Films a Scene Inside a Lion’s Cage in 200 Takes

The Invisible Horror of The Shining: How Music Makes Stanley Kubrick’s Iconic Film Even More Terrifying

Inex­plic­a­ble as it may sound to read­ers of this site, there are movie-lovers who claim not to enjoy the work of Stan­ley Kubrick. But even his most stead­fast non-appre­ci­a­tors have to hand it to him for The Shin­ing, his 1980 Stephen King adap­ta­tion wide­ly con­sid­ered one of the scari­est — quite pos­si­bly the scari­est – film ever made. The visu­al rea­sons for its effec­tive­ness well beyond the core audi­ence of Kubrick enthu­si­asts are many, and they’ve been much scru­ti­nized by twen­ty-first-cen­tu­ry video essay­ists. But as explained in the Kap­tain Kris­t­ian video above, a sig­nif­i­cant por­tion of the hor­ror of The Shin­ing is invis­i­ble. That is, we don’t see it, but hear it; or rather, what we hear great­ly inten­si­fies what we see.

One tech­nique pow­er­ful­ly employed in the film has the incon­gru­ous name of “Mick­ey Mou­s­ing.” Named after the man­ner in which clas­sic car­toons were scored in tight syn­chrony with the move­ments of their char­ac­ters, it had fall­en into dis­use by the nine­teen-sev­en­ties, when a sub­tler cin­e­mat­ic style pre­vailed.

For The Shin­ing, Kubrick and musi­cal edi­tor Gor­don Stain­forth chose to revive it, assem­bling scenes to pieces of music like Béla Bartók’s “Music for Strings, Per­cus­sion and Celes­ta” so as to height­en not just shock moments, but also to deep­en the sense of dread that per­vades the movie from its open­ing moments. So tight does the cor­re­spon­dence feel between The Shin­ing’s music and its char­ac­ters’ actions that it comes as a sur­prise that most of the film was shot with­out what we hear on the sound­track play­ing on the set; some scenes weren’t even intend­ed to have music at all before edit­ing.

Stain­forth has said that the over­all idea was to use “music as fate”: for exam­ple, the “big chords” that accom­pa­ny the title cards announc­ing the day of the week, which por­tend “a dooms­day of judg­ment com­ing ever clos­er.” When next you watch The Shin­ing, pay atten­tion to the cues, and notice just how close­ly they’re asso­ci­at­ed in your mem­o­ry with — and how much more fright­en­ing they’re made by — their accom­pa­ny­ing images: Jack danc­ing through the ball­room filled with jazz-age ghosts, Dan­ny turn­ing a cor­ner and see­ing the pal­lid twins, the blood flow­ing out of the ele­va­tor, Wendy lock­ing eyes with the man in the bear suit. But then, I sus­pect that last one would be scary no mat­ter what was on the sound­track.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Doc­u­men­tary View from the Over­look: Craft­ing The Shin­ing Looks at How Kubrick Made “the World’s Scari­est Movie”

How Stan­ley Kubrick Adapt­ed Stephen King’s The Shin­ing into a Cin­e­mat­ic Mas­ter­piece

A Kubrick Schol­ar Dis­cov­ers an Eerie Detail in The Shin­ing That’s Gone Unno­ticed for More Than 40 Years

Stan­ley Kubrick’s Anno­tat­ed Copy of Stephen King’s The Shin­ing

Decod­ing the Screen­plays of The Shin­ing, Moon­rise King­dom & The Dark Knight: Watch Lessons from the Screen­play

The Clas­si­cal Music in Stan­ley Kubrick’s Films: Lis­ten to a Free Four-Hour Playlist

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Every Wes Anderson Movie, Explained by Wes Anderson

That Wes Ander­son is per­haps the most assid­u­ous mak­er of short films today becomes clear when you look close­ly at his recent work. The four adap­ta­tions of “The Won­der­ful World of Hen­ry Sug­ar” and three oth­er Roald Dahl sto­ries he made for Net­flix were pre­sent­ed as a sin­gle anthol­o­gy film; his slight­ly ear­li­er fea­ture The French Dis­patch did­n’t hide the essen­tial sep­a­rate­ness of its sto­ries, each one based on an arti­cle for a fic­tion­al­ized ver­sion of the New York­er. Though both Ander­son­’s fans and crit­ics read­i­ly note the increas­ing­ly elab­o­rate con­struc­tions of his pic­tures, it’s worth remem­ber­ing that his career began with a sim­ple short: the thir­teen-minute black-and-white ver­sion of Bot­tle Rock­et that would evolve into his first full-length work.

Ander­son tells the sto­ry of not just that first fea­ture but also the twelve that would fol­low in the new video from Van­i­ty Fair above, men­tion­ing details even ded­i­cat­ed Ander­so­ni­ans may not know. The orig­i­nal, “very, very, very long” Bot­tle Rock­et script got a severe cut­ting under the guid­ance of Hol­ly­wood pro­duc­er James L. Brooks. Loca­tions for Rush­more were scout­ed based on whether move­ments through them could prop­er­ly be chore­o­graphed to cer­tain British Inva­sion songs.

Ander­son promised the late Gene Hack­man that he’d have a “good time” on The Roy­al Tenen­baums, a promise that went not-quite-ful­filled. When he hired Seu Jorge to sing David Bowie songs for The Life Aquat­ic, he did­n’t know he was already a pop singer in Brazil. When talk­ing to him about The Dar­jeel­ing Lim­it­ed, peo­ple tend to call it “The Dar­jeel­ing Express.”

Many of these rec­ol­lec­tions have to do with his inspi­ra­tions, which for The Dar­jeel­ing Lim­it­ed were spe­cif­ic sub­con­ti­nen­tal films like Jean Renoir’s The Riv­er, Louis Malle’s Phan­tom India, and Satya­jit Ray’s Apu tril­o­gy. Moon­rise King­dom was made pos­si­ble when Ander­son, long res­i­dent in France, came to “see Amer­i­ca like some for­eign coun­try.” Writ­ing The French Dis­patch, he looked to the New York­er as it was under its con­trast­ing first edi­tors, Harold Ross and William Shawn. Aster­oid City orig­i­nat­ed as a kind of trib­ute to the Actors Stu­dio in the nine­teen-fifties. He describes his lat­est pic­ture The Phoeni­cian Scheme as hav­ing been inspired by the work of Luis Buñuel and writ­ten for Beni­cio del Toro, who plays a tycoon out of a “nine­teen-fifties Ital­ian movie” sub­ject to “Bib­li­cal visions” dur­ing his fre­quent brush­es with death. “I haven’t had the moment where I don’t know what I want to do next,” Ander­son says at the end of the video. As sure as film­go­ers may feel that they know just what to expect from him, he sure­ly has many more sur­pris­es in store for us.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Wes Ander­son Explains How He Writes and Directs Movies, and What Goes Into His Dis­tinc­tive Film­mak­ing Style

A Com­plete Col­lec­tion of Wes Ander­son Video Essays

Why Do Wes Ander­son Movies Look Like That?

Wes Ander­son Explains How He Built Aster­oid City, the Fic­tion­al Amer­i­can Desert Town in His New Film

Wes Anderson’s Break­through Film Rush­more Revis­it­ed in Five Video Essays: It Came Out 20 Years Ago Today

Wes Anderson’s First Short Film: The Black-and-White, Jazz-Scored Bot­tle Rock­et (1992)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Wim Wenders’ New Short Film Reminds Europe of the Lessons of World War II

World War II offi­cial­ly end­ed on Sep­tem­ber 2, 1945. It fol­lowed, by less than three weeks, an equal­ly momen­tous event, at least in the eyes of cinephiles: the birth of Wim Wen­ders. Though soon to turn 80 years old, Wen­ders has remained both pro­duc­tive and capa­ble of draw­ing great crit­i­cal acclaim. Wit­ness, for exam­ple, his Tokyo-set 2023 film Per­fect Days, which made it to the run­ning for both the Palme d’Or and a Best Inter­na­tion­al Fea­ture Film Acad­e­my Award. Back on V‑J Day, it sure­ly would’ve been dif­fi­cult to imag­ine a Japan­ese-Ger­man co-pro­duc­tion seri­ous­ly com­pet­ing for the most pres­ti­gious prizes in cin­e­ma — even one direct­ed by a known Amer­i­caphile.

Wen­ders has long worked at reveal­ing inter­sec­tions of his­to­ry and cul­ture. Seen today, Wings of Desire seems for all the world to express the spir­it about to be lib­er­at­ed by the fall of the Sovi­et Union, but by Wen­ders’ own admis­sion, nobody work­ing on the movie would have cred­it­ed the idea of the Berlin Wall com­ing down any time in the fore­see­able future.

In his new short film “The Keys to Free­dom,” he com­mem­o­rates the 80th anniver­sary of the Sec­ond World War’s con­clu­sion by pay­ing a vis­it to a school in Reims. Comman­deered for the secret all-night meet­ing in which Ger­man gen­er­als signed the doc­u­ments con­firm­ing their coun­try’s total sur­ren­der to the Allies, it host­ed the end of what Wen­ders called “the dark­est peri­od in the his­to­ry of Europe.”

Clos­ing up the tem­po­rary head­quar­ters, Allied com­man­der-in-chief Dwight D. Eisen­how­er returned its keys to the may­or of Reims, say­ing, “These are the keys to the free­dom of the world.” As much as these words move Wen­ders, he also fears that, even as the Rus­sia-Ukraine war roils on, younger gen­er­a­tions of Euro­peans no longer grasp their mean­ing. Born into soci­eties pro­tect­ed by the Unit­ed States, they nat­u­ral­ly take peace for grant­ed. “We have to be aware of the fact that Uncle Sam isn’t doing our job for very much longer, and we might have to defend this free­dom our­selves,” Wen­ders explains in a New York Times inter­view. The end of World War II marked the begin­ning of the so-called “Amer­i­can cen­tu­ry.” If that cen­tu­ry is well and tru­ly draw­ing to its close, who bet­ter to observe it than Wen­ders?

Relat­ed con­tent:

Wim Wen­ders Explains How Polaroid Pho­tos Ignite His Cre­ative Process and Help Him Cap­ture a Deep­er Kind of Truth

Wim Wen­ders Cre­ates Ads to Sell Beer (Stel­la Artois), Pas­ta (Bar­il­la), and More Beer (Car­ling)

Film­mak­er Wim Wen­ders Explains How Mobile Phones Have Killed Pho­tog­ra­phy

36 Artists Give Advice to Young Cre­ators: Wim Wen­ders, Jonathan Franzen, Lydia Davis, Pat­ti Smith, David Byrne, Umber­to Eco & More

Wern­er Herzog’s New Nov­el The Twi­light World Tells the Sto­ry of the WWII Japan­ese Sol­dier Who Famous­ly Refused to Sur­ren­der

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Ridley Scott’s Cinematic TV Commercials: An 80-Minute Compilation Spanning 1968–2023

“In the future, e‑mail will make the writ­ten word a thing of the past,” declares the nar­ra­tion of a 1999 tele­vi­sion com­mer­cial for Orange, the French tele­com giant. “In the future, we won’t have to trav­el; we’ll meet on video. In the future, we won’t need to play in the wind and rain; com­put­er games will pro­vide all the fun we need. And in the future, man won’t need woman, and woman won’t need man.” Not in our future, the voice has­tens to add, speak­ing for Orange’s cor­po­rate vision: a bit of irony to those of us watch­ing here in 2025, who could be for­giv­en for think­ing that the pre­dic­tions lead­ing up to it just about sum up the progress of the twen­ty-first cen­tu­ry so far. Nor will it sur­prise us to learn that the spot was direct­ed by Rid­ley Scott, that cin­e­mat­ic painter of dystopi­an sheen.

Bleak futures con­sti­tute just one part of Scot­t’s adver­tis­ing port­fo­lio. Watch above through the fea­ture-length com­pi­la­tion of his com­mer­cials (assem­bled by the YouTube chan­nel Shot, Drawn & Cut), and you’ll see dens of Croe­san wealth, deep-sea expe­di­tions, the trench­es of the Great War, the wastes of the Aus­tralian out­back, acts of Cold War espi­onage, a dance at a neon-lined nine­teen-fifties din­er, and the arrival of space aliens in small-town Amer­i­ca — who turn out just to be stop­ping by for a Pep­si.

Not that Scott is a brand loy­al­ist: that he did a good deal of work for Amer­i­ca’s sec­ond-biggest soda brand, some of them not just Mia­mi Vice-themed but star­ring Don John­son him­self, did­n’t stop him from also direct­ing a Coca-Cola spot fea­tur­ing Max Head­room. The decade was, of course, the nine­teen eight­ies, at the begin­ning of which Scott made his most endur­ing mark as a visu­al styl­ist with Blade Run­ner.

A series of spots for Bar­clays bank (whose indict­ments of com­put­er­ized ser­vice now seem pre­scient about our fast-approach­ing AI-“assisted” real­i­ty) hew so close­ly to the Blade Run­ner aes­thet­ic that they might as well have been part of the same pro­duc­tion. But of Scot­t’s dystopi­an adver­tise­ments, none are more cel­e­brat­ed than the Super Bowl spec­ta­cle for the Apple Mac­in­tosh in which a ham­mer-throw­er smash­es a Nine­teen Eighty-Four-style dic­ta­tor-on-video. The com­pi­la­tion also includes a less wide­ly remem­bered com­mer­cial for the Mac­in­tosh’s tech­ni­cal­ly inno­v­a­tive but com­mer­cial­ly failed pre­de­ces­sor, the Apple Lisa. So asso­ci­at­ed did Scott become with cut­ting-edge tech­nol­o­gy that it’s easy to for­get that he rose up through the adver­tis­ing world of his native Britain by mak­ing big impacts, over and over, for down­right quaint brands: Hov­is bread, McDougal­l’s pas­try mix, Find­us frozen fish pies.

It may seem a con­tra­dic­tion that Scott, long prac­ti­cal­ly syn­ony­mous with the large-scale Hol­ly­wood genre block­buster, would have start­ed out by craft­ing such nos­tal­gia-suf­fused minia­tures. And it would take an inat­ten­tive view­er indeed not to note that the man who over­saw the defin­i­tive cin­e­mat­ic vision of a men­ac­ing Asia-inflect­ed urban dystopia would go on to make com­mer­cials for the Sony Mini­Disc and the Nis­san 300ZX. It all makes more sense if you take Scot­t’s artis­tic inter­ests as hav­ing less to do with cul­ture and more to do with bureau­cra­cy, archi­tec­ture, machin­ery, and oth­er such sys­tems in which human­i­ty is con­tained: so nat­ur­al a fit for the realm of adver­tis­ing that it’s almost a sur­prise he’s made fea­tures at all. And indeed, he con­tin­ues to do ad work, bring­ing movie-like grandeur to mul­ti-minute pro­mo­tions for brands like Hen­nessy and Turk­ish Air­lines — each one intro­duced as “a Rid­ley Scott film.”

Relat­ed con­tent:

Rid­ley Scott Demys­ti­fies the Art of Sto­ry­board­ing (and How to Jump­start Your Cre­ative Project)

See Rid­ley Scott’s 1973 Bread Com­mer­cial — Vot­ed England’s Favorite Adver­tise­ment of All Time

Watch Rid­ley Scott’s Con­tro­ver­sial Nis­san Sports Car Ad That Aired Only Once, Dur­ing the Super Bowl (1990)

Rid­ley Scott on the Mak­ing of Apple’s Icon­ic “1984” Com­mer­cial, Aired on Super Bowl Sun­day in 1984

Watch The Jour­ney, the New Rid­ley Scott Short Film Teased Dur­ing the Super Bowl

Rid­ley Scott Walks You Through His Favorite Scene from Blade Run­ner

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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