Close Up (Jan-Jun 1929)

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CLOSE VP to what he has to say. We listen for several pages to his eager voice vividly interpreting, and return to a world that will never be quite the same again. (It never is, of course, from one moment to another.) For w^e have heard the crashing of a barrier against which modern art has flung itself in vain. The barrier Antheil drilled holes in when he " composed " mechanisms, (Did not one of his works require sixteen pianos and a screen ?) and Dos Passos splintered when he described a group of straight-faced elderly relatives arrived in mourning garb at a house of death for funeral and reading of Will, gravely jazzing through the hall, and other American writers have severely shaken by their unashamed metaphoricality, and all those novelists have fistpunched who in pursuit of their particular aims produced texts retrospectively labelled cinematographic. Is not Wells' dirge then justified? (Did not he too, time and again, cry out within his text upon the limitations of the printed page?) Has not literature, for so long prophesying unawares the fully developed film, had its day ? No. The film is a social an, a show, something for collective seeing, and even in the day that finds us all owning projectors and rolls of film from the local circulating filmerv it still will be so, a small ceremonial prepared for a group, all of whom must adjust their sensibilities at a given moment and at the film's pace. Reading, all but reading aloud, is a solitary art — is this why it has been called the unpunished vice, and ought we to scrap these pages and swear onlv that we hope Wells may be right about the alleged competitor ? — and the film can no more replace it than the Mass can replace private devotions. What film, to take a simple. 34