I have a great affinity for 1920s culture–the music and early sound films in particular. Not that the ‘talkies’ (as they were then referred too) are easy to watch anymore–at least not in the way they were intended to be. Early sound film is pre-historic, with acting so unbelievably wooden and storytelling and filmmaking techniques so analphabetic as to border on surrealism. (I recently read a quote from film historian Leslie Halliwell who said that the Marx Brothers 1929 debut film ‘The Cocoanuts’ “is the only early sound film one can still watch without extreme discomfort”). Much as I love the view of 20s culture on display in these films, they can be a hard sit. But I recently discovered a method of watching these films that makes them not only interesting but genuine works of art–in an unintended way on very small scale of course. Above I’ve provided you with the necessary tools to try this little experiment in 1920s revisionist viewing. First I’ve posted a 1929 film called ‘Alibi’–a gangsters/nightclub tale which was highly thought of at the time. Below it I’ve posted a great compilation of Duke Ellington records from the period–it’s his ‘Cotton Club’ band and epitomizes late 1920s jazz. Go to any section of ‘Alibi’, mute the sound and hit play. Then go to any section of the Ellington music and hit play. The silent images and the music will gradually merge and create a mesmeric effect. When the two don’t fit together conventionally (slow scene with fast music behind it for instance–or even better, the reverse) this provides an odd, almost symbolic view of the world of that era. This only works on early sound films because silents of that era had become sophisticated enough for viewers to understand what’s going on story-wise using only visuals. But early talkies are generally static, with actors walking, talking and acting at half-speed with exaggerated facial expressions and ludicrous body-gestures. It’s pretty much impossible to tell what’s going on without the aid of the poorly acted dialogue cluing you in. Once you tune into the dissonance of a mute picture of that era mixed with a bright soundtrack of the same era and no understanding of what’s going on story-wise, you enter a world of shadow-play, a Kabuki Theater kind of experience in which the original film becomes an abstraction of its former self–a series of odd poses by people of that time, in settings of that time. Indeed, the entire thing starts to feel like a ballet of sorts, a haunting pantomime of impressions of the era by ghosts coming to visit us from another realm, a place without language or reason but filled with music that mocks the dead. Enjoy!