The Age of Valentino and Chaplin
……….
With all the clarity of silver’s sheen
Yet maybe with a patina of gray,
The soundless light fills up the sterling screen.
The characters and scenes are like ballet
But of a stiff and jerky sort. Perhaps
This rises from the purity of aim
Or from precision of the ermine wraps
Around a heroine. The camera frame
Is more a black and white, rectangle dream,
A colorless though gleaming reverie
Performed inside the bright projector’s beam.
Grandiloquence of mood is what we see—
Unless it’s spastic comedy that we’re
Enjoying. Slapstick’s stupidly clear.