100 Books, #38: Silent Stars
Mar. 15th, 2014 09:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
osprey_archerAlthough the supposed theme of this 100 books list is "100 books that influenced me," it's not always easy or even possible to pinpoint any measurable influence from a particular book. But Jeanine Basinger's Silent Stars is an exception: it had a clear and concrete influence on my life and my movie-going habits.
Before I get to that, however, let me sing the praises of Silent Stars, which is one of the most exuberant, enthusiastic, but nonetheless measured and thoughtful nonfiction books I've ever read. Each chapter is the profile of a different star (or occasionally thematically grouped stars) from the silent movie era. In her introduction, Basinger explains that her choices were "influenced by pleasure, by surprise and delight." That delight shines through in all her profiles.
In short, this is the book of a fan. The style isn't internet-fannish (not enough capslock, not enough exclamation point), but the feeling behind it, the willingness to watch and rewatch movie after flickering, poorly preserved movie - this is a labor of love. The melodrama of silent movie plots, the terse and snarky title cards, the sometimes ridiculous costumes: it would be easy to mock silent movies for their excesses, but instead these things fill Basinger with glee.
Her chapter about Mary Pickford encapsulates this beautifully: critics today often see the immensely popular Pickford's films as sentimental sexist twaddle, but Basinger notes instead the immense toughness of Pickford's characters. She was sweet and also an unholy hoyden: as one critic observed, "Good may have prevailed in Mary Pickford's movies, but the set of her tough little jaw told you it damn well better."
Forgiving is not quite the right word for this attitude. There's an element of focus to it: Basinger sees and notes what is bad about these movies, but the parts that she holds onto and internalizes are the parts that are good and useful to her. It's a nuanced and generous approach to criticism.
And generous, I think, is the word that I'm looking for to describe Basinger's attitude. She is generous in her love for these movies, generous in sharing it so enthusiastically with her readers, and generous to herself by focusing on what she likes best, without ignoring what is bad.
Silent Stars is the reason that I branched out beyond recent Hollywood movies. If Jeanine Basinger could get such joy out of Rudolf Valentino flaring his nostrils at the camera, then who knows what kinds of cinema might surprise and delight me? Golden age Hollywood, anime, French films, Bollywood - you never know until you try.
Oddly, given that Silent Stars is the book that started it all, the one kind of movie I've had trouble getting into are...silents. But I live in hope.
Before I get to that, however, let me sing the praises of Silent Stars, which is one of the most exuberant, enthusiastic, but nonetheless measured and thoughtful nonfiction books I've ever read. Each chapter is the profile of a different star (or occasionally thematically grouped stars) from the silent movie era. In her introduction, Basinger explains that her choices were "influenced by pleasure, by surprise and delight." That delight shines through in all her profiles.
In short, this is the book of a fan. The style isn't internet-fannish (not enough capslock, not enough exclamation point), but the feeling behind it, the willingness to watch and rewatch movie after flickering, poorly preserved movie - this is a labor of love. The melodrama of silent movie plots, the terse and snarky title cards, the sometimes ridiculous costumes: it would be easy to mock silent movies for their excesses, but instead these things fill Basinger with glee.
Her chapter about Mary Pickford encapsulates this beautifully: critics today often see the immensely popular Pickford's films as sentimental sexist twaddle, but Basinger notes instead the immense toughness of Pickford's characters. She was sweet and also an unholy hoyden: as one critic observed, "Good may have prevailed in Mary Pickford's movies, but the set of her tough little jaw told you it damn well better."
Forgiving is not quite the right word for this attitude. There's an element of focus to it: Basinger sees and notes what is bad about these movies, but the parts that she holds onto and internalizes are the parts that are good and useful to her. It's a nuanced and generous approach to criticism.
And generous, I think, is the word that I'm looking for to describe Basinger's attitude. She is generous in her love for these movies, generous in sharing it so enthusiastically with her readers, and generous to herself by focusing on what she likes best, without ignoring what is bad.
Silent Stars is the reason that I branched out beyond recent Hollywood movies. If Jeanine Basinger could get such joy out of Rudolf Valentino flaring his nostrils at the camera, then who knows what kinds of cinema might surprise and delight me? Golden age Hollywood, anime, French films, Bollywood - you never know until you try.
Oddly, given that Silent Stars is the book that started it all, the one kind of movie I've had trouble getting into are...silents. But I live in hope.
