The cinema : 1952 (1952)

Page scan 000193 from The cinema : 1952

Record Details:

Title:
The cinema : 1952
Date:
1952
Publisher:
Harmondsworth : Penguin Books
Volume:
The cinema : 1952
Leaf #:
000193
Language:
English
Collection:
Books
Format:
Books
Contributor:
Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum
Sponsor:
Media History Digital Library
Coordinator:
Media History Digital Library
Description:
Date Added:
June 20, 2024
Something wrong or inaccurate about this page? Let us Know!

Thanks for helping us continually improve the quality of the Lantern search engine for all of our users! We have millions of scanned pages, so user reports are incredibly helpful for us to identify places where we can improve and update the metadata.

Please describe the issue below, and click "Submit" to send your comments to our team! If you'd prefer, you can also send us an email to mhdl@commarts.wisc.edu with your comments.




We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.

Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.

ROBERT FLAHERTY 129 film-maker has given so much in sheer devotion to the portrayal of the lives of people whom he had first of all to make his trusting friends before they could keep their natural dignity and their deeply personal expression alive and unaffected in the face of his camera. With Flaherty, Eisenstein, and Griffith, the film has lost three of its greatest founders. All three knew the suffering caused by artistic frustration. All three were outstanding personalities. My picture of Flaherty is of a man walking agilely, in spite of his bulk, to the restaurants round the old harbour at Cannes, delighting in the reception given in Europe to Louisiana Story, drinking in a pub in Wardour Street surrounded by a delighted company of British filmmakers, or sitting in his private room in a Kensington hotel telling stories over a bottle of champagne and a pineapple, with his wife quietly interjecting now and then. Very few men I have known had such a capacity for inspiring immediate affection, and the news of his death came with a sharp personal sting.