Saved From the Flames

Reviewer: Jeffrey M. Anderson
Rating (out of 5): *****

Saved from the Flames: 54 Rare and Restored Films 1896-1944

Flicker Alley, the little company that could, continues to impress, releasing quality items that rival The Criterion Collection and Kino. Their newest is a pocket cinema museum, a three-disc set full of short gems of all stripes, all supposedly "Saved From the Flames." The 54 films included run a combined seven hours, so I'll just mention the highlights. It starts with a couple of classics from the Lumière Brothers, whose mise-en-scène still seems deceptively simple and undeniably effective: La Sortie des usines Lumière (1895) and L'Arrivée d'un train à La Ciotat (1896). Georges Méliès is also represented here with Danse serpentine (1896); he made films at the same time as the Lumières, but was far more interested in fantasy than reality. (Flicker Alley also released an essential Méliès box set, very much worth seeking out; and 15 of his best shorts are included on this Facets collection.)

There's an interesting, culturally disturbing film about "Japanese" acrobats who do some amazing tricks, circa 1907 -- and I'll admit it took me a few moments to figure out how they did it. An Excursion to the Moon is a deliberate copy of Melies' A Trip to the Moon (1902); perhaps it could be considered an early precursor to Gus Van Sant's Psycho? I loved The Automatic Moving Company (1911), an unbelievably painstaking animated short in which furniture moves itself into a home. Charlie Chaplin stars in a fascinating early short, Kid Auto Races at Venice (1914), which has to be one of cinema's first attempts at post-modernism. As the races are being filmed, The Tramp keeps trying to maneuver himself in front of the camera, even if he has to walk out onto the track in front of speeding go-carts. Fans of There Will Be Blood will be surprised by California Election News #2 (1934), in which people on the street explain why we should not vote for Upton Sinclair as governor. (The entire reel was faked, paid for by a panicky right-wing.) And what's a film museum without something by D.W. Griffith? Here we have For His Son (1912), an astonishing little two-reeler about an inventor who sells a soda filled with cocaine so that his son will have lots of money.

In cartoons, we have some classics by animators extraordinaire Max and Dave Fleischer, including one of their Koko the Clown shorts, and one of those follow-the-bouncing-ball, sing-a-long song clips. One of Disney's most famous and talented staffers, Ub Iwerks, brings us Balloon Land (1935), in which all the inhabitants of Balloon Land are attacked by the Pincushion Man; it's brilliant, if oddly disturbing. There's also a selection of wonderful little jazz films with performances by Django Reinhardt, Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong, among others; seeing them play on film is like suddenly hearing their records in 3D! That's just scratching the surface.

This set also includes films by Mack Sennett, documentary footage and newsreels, footage of Charles Lindbergh, comedies (one with Stan Laurel), ads and promos, and even a Western. As a bonus, the very last film is a compilation of kissing scenes cut from other films, just like in Cinema Paradiso (1989). Any cinema buff would love this.