This film is shown in dual homage to the great Max Linder himself, and to the maker of the film, his daughter Maud Linder, this year's Jean Mitry Award honoree. On 31 October 1925 Linder, not quite 42 years old, and his 20-year-old wife died in a Paris hotel, in an apparent suicide pact. They left behind their 16-month-old baby, who was taken away by her mother's family, and raised in ignorance of her father's identity. Not until she was about 20 did Maud Linder learn who her father was, and began her quest to rediscover him.

Abel Gance's J'Accuse (1919), a politically an d stylistically daring anti-war drama produced while the trench warfare of World War I was still grinding up soldiers on both sides of the battle, opens with the title spelled out by the bodies of soldiers striding into formation, like a marching band at a half-time show. Then they collapse, as if dead, to startling effect. Appropriating the cry leveled by Emile Zola during the Dreyfus affair, Gance levels his accusations at war itself.

The film Der Golem is a classic film – doubly so.

First, it has long nestled comfortably within the list of titles that make up the German Expressionist movement of the 1920s. Teachers of survey history courses are more likely to show Das Cabinet des Dr. Caligari, but a serious enthusiast will make a point of seeing Der Golem as well.

From the start, reviewers recognized Der Golem as Expressionist. In 1921 the New York Times' critic wrote, "Resembling somewhat the curious constructions of THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI, the settings may be called expressionistic, but to the common man they are best described as expressive, for it is their eloquence that characterizes them." (Spellbound in Darkness, p. 362) In 1930, Paul Rotha's The Film Till Now, the most ambitious world history of cinema in English to date, appeared. Highly influential in establishing the canon of classics, Rotha adored Weimar cinema, including Der Golem.

The Merry Widow (Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, US 1925)is the opening night film at the 2009 Giornate de Cinema Muto 200,

The Music
When I first accompanied The Merry Widow years ago, I was totally struck by this highly creative and inventive film adaptation of the operetta, directed by the genius Erich von Stroheim. Immediately I realized that my "one" piano + singer accompaniment wasn't at all enough to serve this brilliant film. I started a serious quest to develop a score for the film, and at the same time to promote this relatively unknown von Stroheim film wherever I possibly could.

I am now in LA, my future here much like the economy, is uncertain. But it is Los Angeles, the Mecca for actors on the lam from their respective hometowns forced to work hard to not defer their dreams. But as fate shall have its way, that’s the way it is and I’m not suffering for it. The full knowledge I had of this before I moved out here was the only proverbial brass pair I had to tug on in hopes that it would keep me confident. When I mean that I knew actors out in LA work hard, I mean I know actors who left Tinsel Town penniless and defeated, running back home with their tales so far up their asses they spit fur as they panted gaining speed towards mommy. But the working hard comes from a different place, a place that comes way before we are ever even ready to go meet with agents to one day hopefully book castings. Working hard means something different to everyone but I will attempt to clear the air as to what actually works for me as an actor.

Well, not quite. Stuart Townsend's Battle in Seattle, about the protests at the 1999 WTO Ministerial Conference, grossed well under $1 million at the box office when it was released in a handful of theaters last fall. The DVD came out on March 10. I usually have trouble getting new releases on Netflix because the wait list is so long, but I had so such problem when I Netflixed Battle in Seattle. Interest in this movie seems to range from lukewarm to nil.