Best movie of this year hands down!

A great movie, one of the best of this year. There was a bit of confusion at one point in the plot, but nothing serious.

It is a whirlwind of delight --- attractive actors, stunning couture, spectacular sets and outrageous parties.

The acting is good, and the firecracker script has some excellent ideas.

Lonesome is like the much more charming, if slightly less ambitious (and at the very end a bit too cute) cousin of Sunrise. It's appeal is in its simplicity, but where Sunrise was about a couple breaking apart and coming back together, this is much more streamlined and less tragic (though it does go for some tragic beats in the last twenty minutes of its slim 70-minute run-time): boy is lonely, girl is lonely, both work working-class jobs (factory/phone operator, what else in New York city in 1928?), they both decide separately after their (so-called!) friends go off on their own adventures to go to the beach and amusement park - is it Coney Island? I can't imagine it being anywhere else - and boy and girl meet as the boy tries to show off doing games. And that's it, that's the movie, and why it stands out (and got a sort-of restoration and Criterion treatment) is its presentation by its director.I don't know much about Pal (Paul) Fejos except that he directed silent films and somewhat into the 1930's, and then sort of faded away into obscurity. It's a shame since a film like Lonesome shows his talents clearly: he has a keen sense of editing and that way that silent filmmakers sometimes had to super-impose images (perhaps a chip off the Abel Gance block perhaps, but not as ambitious), in particular when he's setting up the hustle/bustle of the city and then later in the film when things get more harrowing with the characters. That is to say when, inevitably, the main conflict is that they are separated in that great sea of people that makes up a massive crowd in a city (where, as the man, Jim, notes at one point, is so strange that you're surrounded by so many but still feel so alone).The charm in the film comes in how the couple on screen - Barbara Kent and Glenn Tryon - are together; they're kind of like if you had one of those romantic "leads" in those really early Marx brothers movies, only they don't sing and the man is funny in that amusing- lightly- sarcastic way (i.e. bragging about his "six acres on Wall street" at first, which we and the girl knows isn't true, but it's fun to play along). Actually, speaking of that, this is an experimental film at heart for a number of reasons. It appears at first to be a silent film, and for 90% of it it surely is, and is shot like one with that film speed we associate with silent cinema on the whole (that kind of slightly-sped-up speed where its rhythm is distinctly of its cameras and era), and we know this because 10% of the film, more or less, is a *sound* film. No, really, we suddenly move from what is the obvious fluid camera style and wide shots of the crowds and intensity that comes with a camera that moves freely to what is clearly static shots in a studio so the actors are right under a microphone... and the acting is just as static.That's not totally fair; this is considered, at least according to the trivia, one of the very first films to ever incorporate sound. On that level it's certainly extraordinary and important, but the problem is that it becomes jarring with the rest of the film which is shot with such passion and excitement (it's also frankly weird to hear the actor's speaking voices, whereas before, like I do with a lot of silent movies, I can think of my own voices for the actors that do not sound so... stilted). One of the sound scenes is also one where I wasn't sure if a cop was being sarcastic or not; our man Jim has been taken away by the cops after a roller-coaster ride where Mary, the girl, fainted and had to be taken away but Jim got separated and got rough with a cop. For a moment it seems like he'll be put away, but Jim pours his heart out (with some, I'm sorry, cringe-inducing lines), and the cop's reaction is hard to read since it sounds totally "pfft yeah right"... but then they let him go. Very strange. But these aren't major complaints for a film that has so much to offer outside of those things. This is a movie that's joy is in its purity, that it's about these two people and how they meet and suddenly all of the usual problems of their everyday lives - the work, the drudgery, the intensity of being around so many people getting on/off the subways or being in the traffic - can float away since they have one another. And there are some moments of experimentation that do work, mostly involving (also, again, a touch of daring with Fejos) color: there's tinted scenes here, which isn't unusual for a silent film, but here it's how the colors are used, over the amusement park scenes to illuminate the lights at night, the performers in the park, the vibrancy that the night off a beach in the city brings. There are so many moments of rich filmmaking, so much hope that this couple is able to inspire in a short amount of time, and because of the simplicity we're able to invest ourselves into their bond as it gets closer (maybe a little *too* quick, one might want to argue, falling in love within a day), that one can almost forgive a cutesy ending. Almost.

... and I could say the same thing about Fejos' "Broadway", made a year later. Fejos recounts the tale of two lonely New Yorkers, Jim (Glen Tryon) and Mary (Barbara Kent), who find love and each other during a half day holiday at the beach and Coney Island. You first see the workday from Jim and Mary's perspective as they are ruled first by the tyranny of the alarm clock and then the tedium of the workday as you see a clock overlaying the image of each at work. Jim is a low-level machine operator, and Mary is a telephone operator. Then there are "the crowds". Jim and Mary are crowded at breakfast, at a diner filled with patrons, crowded on the subway, crowded at work, and crowded at the beach and amusement park. Yet both of them are completely alone in the world, which, especially in the attractive Miss Kent's case, seems somewhat inconceivable.This late era silent has a dearth of title cards, which does not subtract from the film's enjoyment. In fact, what does subtract just a little are the short dialogue scenes that just don't make sense. One scene is Jim and Mary on the beach suddenly in the dark AND in color, with the crowd removed. Nothing they say shines any light on their situation or feelings at all. Another one is in a courtroom where Jim has been detained for being unruly. He gives a speech like a Bolshevik basically shaming the judge and ... the judge lets him go???? This social awareness seems very strange stuff coming from Jim who, up to that point, has seemed to be a very uncomplicated fellow. Very strange, but typical of talking scenes inserted into silent films at the dawn of sound.What is extra special about this film is to see the lives of working class people in 1928. Notice that the workday that Jim and Mary are going through is a Saturday, and this was the norm back then and until some time after WWII. People would normally work half a day on Saturday and have only Sunday in its entirety as a day off. Catch this film if you can, even if you are not a huge silent film buff.

A young man and a young woman lead nearly identical lives throughout the day, he a punch-press operator and she a telephone operator. After work, both decide to go to Coney Island, where they meet, have fun, fall in love, and then lose each other. The movie's cute, but it isn't anything superb. There were two much better films made in the same year that Lonesome reminds me of. First, King Vidor's The Crowd, one of the best films of the period. That one takes place over quite a lot more time, but the styles are similar, with The Crowd being much more sophisticated in its narrative, characterization, etc. The Coney Island scenes are probably the most celebrated part of Lonesome, but these are nothing compared to those in the Harold Lloyd vehicle Speedy. Fejös exaggerates these scenes beyond belief, with so much confetti falling on the Coney Island patrons that one would think the crowd would drown in paper. This film is from the school of silent filmmaking where putting a lot of people on screen at the same time is considered ingenious. In comparison, the crowds of Speedy are believable, and that sequence is absolutely lovely. Lonesome also suffers from three intrusive sound sequences, which Universal forced in at the last minute. They stop the film dead in its tracks (but they are somewhat funny). Overall, the film is entertaining, if not too memorable. One particular sequence stands out as masterful: the man's and woman's workdays, edited back to back, with the whole screen surrounded by the numbers on a clock, translucent hands following the time. 7/10.

If only this remarkable movie hadn't had the misfortune to be released just when the enthusiasm for sound was sweeping all before it, it would probably have been more appreciated at the time and remembered today as one of the all-time classics. As an expression of the isolation of city life, it builds up an atmosphere of desperation, in spite of its romance with a happy ending. The scene where the boy searches frantically for the girl throughout crowded Coney Island, buffeted this way and that by the uncaring throngs, turned away by the indifferent faces of the amusement park workers, has few equals for anguish. Also unforgettable is the montage that cuts from one to the other of the lovers (who have not yet met) while they are at work, the one at a factory, the other at a telephone switchboard; the motions of the hands and the machines build to a frantic, overwhelming pace.Unfortunately, before the movie was released it was sadly mangled by the insertion of several sound sequences, which stop the continuity dead with their absolute stasis, and feature dialogue so thunderously inane you have to suspect it was written by the sound technician. Nonetheless, "Lonesome" remains one of the most sophisticated examples of the silent movie, an art form that was killed by sound almost as soon as it had reached maturity.