EBERT GOES NOSTALGIC

Ebert goes nostalgic. In his review of Cabiria he reminds us of another era, and how that era is preserved. Ebert tells of the work which went into the filming of the movie.

The film was made with limitless scope and ambition, with towering sets and
thousands of extras, with stunts that (because they were actually performed
by
stuntmen) have an impact lost in these days of visual effects. Hannibal's
elephants actually cross the Alps in this movie. But there is room for the
tiny
detail; in an early scene, the foreground action takes place before an
imposing
palace wall.

Cabiria is not important because of the film itself, rather its importance within the development of cinema. It becomes a transition between antiquity and epic. The effort put into the film's restoration is focused upon.

here was the original film, compiled from prints found in Moscow, Paris,
London, New York and Pastrone's estate, and restored to within three minutes of
its original running time.

Ebert even remarks to those directors to whom this movie influenced: Griffith, DeMille. I found it curious to how a 1914 film influenced one made the next year. It is either a lie or a testament to the speed with which early film morphed into what can be recognized as modern. I pass no judgement either way. This thought also seems to be generalizable of Ebert's feelings toward the historic archive of cinema. Ebert notes the absence of close-ups within the movie, in my opinion due to the quality or ability of the camera. This quip of information reaffirms Ebert's thesis. The structure of the review is also of note. The outline of plot is not mentioned until the end of the piece, taking emphasis off what I suspect would be a rather complex and dry subject matter. Again, that was not the intent when Ebert called our intention to the film.

Ebert concludes, intangibly, by alluding to some Russian doll model of age; an old movie depicting an old subject. The silence of the medium leaves him dreamier and more subject to the whim of time and thought. I agree.

That leaves me, I suppose, with the necessary explanation of my title. I say it with no kindness. Ebert, holistically, seems to be somewhat enamored with the idea of a silent film. He says how awestruck he is by the scale of the sets, the number of extras, the authenticity of the stunts. The euphoria that a film critic will experience studying various aspects of early cinematography, Edwardian actors and pre-war stunts does not apply to the interest of people at large. In this way, Ebert puts film on an inaccessible pedestal to a great mass of consumers. This is not to be the "contrarian". I agree with the points made about its historic importance, preservation, et. cetera. Weather intended or not, the review here becomes pretentious.