If there's cramming, then there's skimming. And then binge watching. If not for the Internet, then I wouldn't see "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg." I would see myself as a superficial individual at times, but this bittersweet musical tugged my emotions. War could be cruel, but I never expected French filmmakers to fancy sad endings. I grew up watching Hollywood movies, so this was a novelty. Jacques Demy's picture would be part of my watch list, a sure-fire way of turning any student into a snob. Most moviegoers wouldn't know "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari", and they won't bother to look for a copy of this black-and-white film. I wouldn't be curious if this wasn't part of the module. And I was grateful that I made a last-minute decision of pursuing a dual degree.
Watching Robert Wiene's silent film is like playing a never-ending guessing game, where a small village of twisted buildings and spiraling streets would play tricks on the minds of the viewers. A mysterious gentleman named Dr. Caligari came to town with Cesare, his somnambulist. The latter would terrorize the community during the ungodly hours. It would be up to Francis, a young man, to save the day. He managed to do the heroic feat, but the happy ending was followed with a twist. Francis happened to be a patient in a mental asylum. And Dr. Caligari was his attending physician.
Did the story (of Dr. Caligari's mysterious appearance in the village) have taken place at all? Was Francis pulling a leg all along? Must viewers take the words of an insane person seriously? I don't want to think about the political aspect of the film, but it wasn't hard to dismiss it. (The shadows could allude to the coming of the Third Reich.) The psychological aspect would be another thing, as the buildings and streets would haunt me after the screening.
If a regular viewer would be curious enough, then there won't be a problem looking for a copy of this silent film classic on the Internet. Alas, art concerns one person. It's not a matter of power, which can be measured by the counting clicks. Nonetheless, I would encourage anyone to watch movies when there's nothing better to do. Many people find it unusual, and I won't argue about it. (It's a privilege to study in the English Department. I wouldn't trade the experiences for something else. But not everyone can appreciate it.) Here are five reasons:
Everyone is talking about television. It wasn't a case back then, my old man pointed out. There were good shows, probably better than the best of the current crop of TV programs. But the public was hooked to the cinema. The big studios made sure that the viewers were enamored by the stars. A cultural shift, which was brought by political events, brought numerous changes. A void would follow, which producers filled with remakes, sequels, and reboots. This would be followed by the next item.
The public would have enough of remakes, sequels, and reboots. Some managed to gross, and there would be many reasons for it. (Mindless entertainment might be the best way to deal with stress.) Moreover, numerous televisions shows were spinoffs or remakes of an old film. Watching the original can enhance one's appreciation (of the program).
Anyone can access the Internet. Finding hard-to-find titles can take minutes.
You don't need to be a journalist to critique a film. My tutor sadly pointed out that the popularity of the Internet would lead to the demise of print media. It's a slow, painful process, but there's an upside. This will make producers more aware of what written materials to adapt to the big screen. You win some, and you lose some.
Culture is a matter of power. I only need to hone my persuasion skills.
