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cannot realise, how a thing " created, not made must forever take precedence to the most technically perfected image. I know that the image of the Maid of Orleans in the Dreyer conception is technically flawless. But to me (and not a few others) the Jeanne D^Arc is (I repeat it) made^ the Image is carved and constructed.
Imagine Brigitte Helm in this role and directed by Pabst . . . we scarcely dare imagine such a thing. It w^ere out of place to speak seriously of mediums and mediumistic trances . . . but there are times when art so far transcends itself that we are forced into another set of symbols. The Jeanne D'Arc of Dreyer is art carried to its highest — wood-carving, if you will, bronze or even mediaeval silver, but it remains art as carvings on a cathedral. The life-like Image of a saint set at dusk in a cathedral causes us to cry " magnificent the opening of the violets in our garden touches us but causes no astonishment. We take it so for granted.
I have not taken part in the conversation that has been going on. I have not even been listening. (You will remember we are seated in a warm corner of a Berlin restaurant just before Christmas.) There is some little stir and probably we must be going. I must say just one thing.
Mr. Pabst, I must ask you one thing — " He turned courteously from weightier matter — about, if you don't mind, Joyless Street,''
I had seen a still of a dead body, a very beautiful still of the figure of the mundane lady who, you will recall, is killed in the house she went to with her lover. I wanted to
know about that body of Madame . . . I was wondering
about it." :\Ir. Pabst did not wait for me to explain fully, he
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