FANTÔMAS (Louis Feuillade, 1913-14)

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(Directed by Louis Feuillade from a script by Feuillade, Marcel Allain, and Pierre Souvestre; starring René Navarre, Edmond Bréon, George Melechior, and Renée Carl. Released 09 May 1913 -> 1914; watched 2023w36 ->2023w39 via Kino Blu-Ray)

As is the case with all of Feuillade's (600+!) pictures, there's a buoyancy to every shot in this five-film cycle, even though – as per the inchoate cinematic language of the time – the films (FANTÔMAS, JUVE VS. FANTÔMAS, THE MURDEROUS CORPSE, FANTÔMAS VS. FANTÔMAS, THE FALSE MAGISTRATE) are told in long static wides (a notable exception being a fantastic and effective horizontal to vertical shift near the end) and an over-reliance on narrative intertitles: they just MOVE, a breathless propulsion from one unlikely and deliciously pulpy scenario – silent executioner! spiked pajamas! bell-ringing blood! skin gloves! wine bottle snorkels! murder! faked death! fake identities! narrow escapes! explosions! blackmail! (implied) sex! Tom Bob! bodies in steamer trunks! – to the next, rolling, tumbling, until the requisite cliffhanger ending (even in the final film) in which Fantômas – René Navarre's mold-building portrayal being evident in everything from Lang's DR MABUSE, THE GAMBLER (down to the opening transformation from disguise to disguise) to the masked Republic serial villains to the Universal Monsters (though Fantômas is an utter shit, lacking in even a scintilla of the UMs' sympathy-inspiring humanity) through Christopher Lee's Dracula and into Hannibal Lecter (both Hopkins and Mikkelsen) and Ledger's Joker – escapes Juve's clutches, leaving us with the promise that their cat and mouse will be as immortal not only as the pursuers and the pursued, but as the generations of dyads they've so clearly inspired.

These foundational treasures are a reminder of the joy of simply letting loose and having a good time, thrillrides as exciting and watchable now as they were 110 years ago. French Blu of JUDEX, Feuillade's "heroic" 1916 serial (and inspiration for The Shadow) is on its way and I've got a rewatch (first in +/-25 years) of LES VAMPIRES in the offing too, FeuilladeFest in tandem with FritzFest, it would seem...

Tom Bob forever.

sunday newsletter drabbling

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Follow-up to yesterday’s pissnmoan re: newsletter-blog differentiation. This week, I'll be moving the Shards series over to Macro and making it a subscriber-exclusive weekly series of 100-word stories (Drabble powers activate) designed to function for my fictional brain as the Attendance Cards do for my awakening brain each day, a way to force me into quantity over quality and foster an even greater attitude of fictional experimentation. The first one will launch in Sunday's Macro0137. You can sign up here, if so inclined.

(cl)ashes

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Been doing the newsletter for more than ten years and a blog for even longer and I still don't have a clue how to balance things out: what do I share publicly, what do I save for Sunday? is Sunday a review of the week previous, a revision of / synthesis? do I use all of the pieces from the week to construct something new? is it simply something new?

A clash of Annie Dillard's exhortation in THE WRITING LIFE with this writing life, at least as it stands at present (same river twice, etc etc):

"One of the few things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book, or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now... Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and you find ashes." 

Every week being new effort to understand it?

Of course, the real question may be why I'm continuing to wonder about it at all, a conflict between my usual whenever/whatever and that OCD need for (faux) certainty in an calling that feeds on uncertainty.

unsilence

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As the waves of The Unfuckening have leveled off to calmer waters of promising I appear – if this morning is more than the exception – to have regained my ability to listen to music while working (Radigue's L'ILLE RESONANTE and Colin Stetson's score to THE MENU FTW) and, while I'm not discounting the potential that it will all fall apart again, I will gladly accept the tiny victory – no matter how fleeting.

Also: my main social/fedi posting app, Linky, has updated to allow crossposting to both Mastodon and Bluesky so now I can take an even more hands-off approach to the latter more in line with its current value.

The day ahead: food, weights, boxing, more words, yoga, more food, hospital/visit, potential annoyance, more or less in that order.

Superman Valentines (1940)

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My collection within The Collection of these wonderful 1940 Superman Valentine Cards has grown by one (second row, left). Particularly fond of the bottom right one, as, apparently, it was a sign of true love back then to have Superman punch a puppy (a ways to go to save the cat in the first Donner film). Also digging the "Say Anything" move of third row left. No clue how many remain, but there are at least 13 total, and I'm sure there are more than that.