Yet another Top Ten, 2025 in live silent cinema...

Have you noticed that there are more and more best-of lists this year? Most are aimed at generating engagement either with heated debates on the socials or via ecommerce, but some are just the outpourings of unquiet minds, butterflies who just need to bring some order at this disturbing time of the year between normal service and Christmas’ mourning. This is one of those, it punctuates the space between regular rants about live screenings and hot digital media – or lukewarm in the case of the last post. So, here we go after the year in which I published the THOUSANDTH post on this blog and crossed the one MILLION words mark… I’ll try be brief.

Gösta Berlings saga (1924), BFI with John Sweeney

January was the hottest month as a cool breeze blew in from Sweden as the BFI screened the SFI’s restoration of Mauritz Stiller’s adaptation of Nobel laureate Selma Lagerloff’s novel. I was honoured to introduce the film and to interview Sonja Kristina, the granddaughter of Gerda Lundequist (who played the matriarch of Ekeby), who then attended the event with her children and grandchildren.

The film is long and may have its faults but it is a major work and features Lars Hanson, the young Greta Gustafson and my favourite Silent Film Principal Dancer/Actor, Jenny Hasselqvist. The restoration looked stunning bringing new vibrancy and order to the film and, cometh the three hours cometh the accompanist - John Sweeney topped things off with energy and invention, as ever the perfect player for the long dance!

Dans l’Hellade / In Ancient Greece (1909) from Christopher Bird's collection

Museums of Dreamworlds… Kennington Bioscope Programme of Antiquities

This was a collaboration between the Bioscope, the BFI and the Department of Greek and Latin, at my daughter’s alma mater, University College London as part of Museums of Dreamworlds: Silent Antiquity in the BFI National Archive. Introduced by the BFI’s Bryony Dixon, and presented by Professor Maria Wyke from UCL it was a selection of films from 1901 to 1927 all of which drew their inspiration from the classical world of Greece and Rome – very loosely in some cases!

Most of the films were from the BFI’s archive with one - Dans l’Hellade / In Ancient Greece (1909) from Christopher Bird’s collection on 28mm digitally scanned by the Cinema Museum. The project asks “…how did silent cinema design its Greek and Roman dreamworlds? What did cinema gain from recreating the distant past? What did the past gain from being recreated in moving images?” On the night, we found some answers and some more questions and we also discovered how Helen’s fabulous face and fancy for the tailors of Troy led to the war between Sparta and Troy: even now we know these stories so well we can understand these jokes.

A 1919 Erdmann with colour filters!

 

Early Colour Live!, Birkbeck University with John Sweeney, Christopher Bird and Iain Christie

Another collaboration and a set of early colour films on celluloid from Chris Bird’s collection and hand-cranked by the man himself on his own projector. We saw hand-coloured film that would have required sixteen images hand colouring for every foot of film equating to one second, Pathé’s pioneering stencil colour system, William Friese Greene’s Biocolour and more all revealing the sophistication and relentless innovation of cinema’s first decades.

Such treats do not come around very often and here’s hoping for more from the gang in 2026.

 

Inka Länta

With Reindeer and Sled in Inka Länta’s Winterland (1926), Hippfest at Home, Hippfest #15

 

I wasn’t able to get to Falkirk this year but luckily was able to enjoy the online edition. As online presentations go, Hippfest at Home is perhaps the most successful in capturing the atmosphere and the feeling of actually being there. You have establishing shots of the live introductions shot from the back of the stalls showing the lovely old stage of the oldest cinema in Scotland, the Hippodrome (1912) and then the option of seeing the film and the musicians accompanying. As always, Alison Strauss leads from the front with such relaxed expertise and enthusiasm – this kind of impassioned poise is reflected across the whole team who love the films but also the audience and the combination is what makes this impossible festival work so well.

Pick of the pics was this dramatized documentary about the reindeer herding lives of the Sámi people who co-existed with them in the most precarious of ways in the far north of Sweden, across Scandinavia and even into Russia. The screening encompassed Sámi old and new with the UK premiere of a new score by Sámi-Finnish joiker and electronic musician Hildá Länsman plus sound designer Tuomas Norvio, collaborating with the Norwegian Sámi musician Lávre Johan Eira and Swedish composer, cellist and bass guitarist Svante Henryson. Traditional forms of Sámi song – “joik” - were deployed alongside moder instruments and electronica to create a visceral and sometimes startling score to this restored documentation of this remarkable people.

Hotel booked; I look forward to the 16^th Edition in March!

Betty Balfour

The Sea Urchin (UK 1926), with Colin Sell, 8th Kennington Bioscope Silent Film Weekend

April and it was time for an early breakfast and the finest coffee that Lambeth can provide as we dove into this mini-Giornate del cinema muto in Charlie’s old workhouse home. Highlights came thick and fast and included the World Premiere of the new Nasty Women full programme, Breaking Plates and Smashing the Patriarchy, with Colin Sell, presented by Michelle Facey. There were British films, Boy Woodburn (UK 1922) (35mm) with Cyrus Gabrysch playing, introduced by Lawrence Napper and with Ivy Duke and Guy Newall on screen, along with rare US prints, Clive Brook in The Yellow Lily (US 1928) (35mm) with Ashley Valentine and introduction by Liz Cleary

My favourite was The Sea Urchin (UK 1926) (35mm), with Colin Sell and introduced by Lawrence Napper which included Britain’s Queen of Happiness, Betty Balfour (more of whom is coming in ’26 with a recently rediscovered film… check out the KB website!). It was a proper delight with The Sea Urchin in question being our BB’s Fay Wynchbeck who as the film starts is a disruptive student in a Parisian girls’ boarding school. Her singing and dancing leads the other girls slightly astray and there’s a fabulous shot of their after-hours partying through the keyhole which Alfred H would have been lauded for. Fay has rich relatives but there’s a family feud in her way… I swear Colin Sell laughed at parts as he played along with glee!!

Christopher Bird at the EMG gramophone (picture from Lynne Wake)

Un Chien Andalou (1928), 35mm nitrate, live 78 RPM DJ Chris Bird, BFI

June was a mixed blessing as I couldn’t make it to Cinema Ritrovato but at least I had the BFI’s Film on Film long weekend to provide the look and feel of nitrate and celluloid! This was a wonderful weekend with lots of colourful treats and my chance to stay awake (see original post in October, 2017) for all of Lubitsch’s wonderful The Student Prince of Old Heidelberg (1927), but my favourite live cinematic experience had to be the surreal presentation of Bunel’s masterpiece in NFT1.

"NOTHING, in the film, SYMBOLIZES ANYTHING. The only method of investigation of the symbols would be, perhaps, psychoanalysis." [Luis and Salvador...]

Luis Buñuel’s original score was a “mash up” – as The Kids now say – of Argentinian Tango music with Wagner et al, thereby inventing Classical Lounge Core without knowing it. Chris Bird, who collects shellac as well as celluloid, was tasked with cutting from one to the other by playing contemporary pressings on two 78 rpm turntables, one of which was a top of the range EMG machine from 1932 which produced remarkable clarity and range. It was the hip-hop triumph of the season and exactly the kind of madness the creators wanted!

 

Anna May Wong in The Thief of Bagdad

 The Thief of Bagdad (1924), with Neil Brand, BFI Anna May Wong: The Art of Reinvention

The BFI’s Anna May Wong season was my favourite of the year and included one great day in which I caught up with her in two of the great silent fantasy films which I had been waiting to see on film and on screen. Peter Pan (1924) caught the eye with JM Barrie’s hand-picked pocket rocket betty Bronson and its closeness to the original play as well as accompaniment from Costas Fotopoulos but The Thief of Bagdad (1924) featuring a dazzling Douglas Fairbanks and epic accompaniment from Neil Brand featured more AMW and was on such a scale it have NFT1 buzzing!! I could happily watch both films every day of the week!

Italia Almirante Manzini abides

Zingari (IT 1920), with Günter Buchwald, Elizabeth-Jane Baldry and Frank Bockius, Le Giornate Del Cinema Muto 44

This was the pure diva pomp and circumstance of Italia Almirante Manzini playing the Queen of the Gypsies in Zingari (IT 1920) and it brought the Teatro Verdi to its feet with a combination of on-screen energy and the startling accompaniment from a super group comprised of Baldry, Buchwald and Bockius or BBB for short. The film tells the story of Vielka, daughter of the Gyspy King Jammadar (Alfonso Cassini) who is fierce and unruly, determined to sacrifice everything for the man she loves, Sindel (Amleto Novelli) even though he is from a rival clan and physically puts the old man in his place when challenged, starting the feud that runs the entire narrative.

Vielka is supposed to marry Gudlo (Franz Sala), who’s not a patch on Sindel so no wonder she burns their farmhouse and gets herself exiled. Will there be any happy ending, do operas ever have happy endings? Günter let loose his inner gypsy on violin and the others followed on with one of the most passionate accompaniments of this year’s Giornate!

The German Retreat and Battle of Arras (GB 1917), Laura Rossi, Le Giornate Del Cinema Muto 44

Made when the Great War looked like it might be winnable and has a propagandist purpose beyond earlier films in showing the changed momentum of the conflict to those back home. It is also historically significant for the events it memorialises, the techniques it uses to do this and its intent.. Geoffrey H. Malins was director of photography as he had been for the two Somme films and this film is another great technical achievement and awe-inspiring in the greater context.  It didn’t feel triumphant though, more grimly determined to help complete the job and this was partly down to the excellence of Laura Rossi’s musical choices.

Laura has scored for the other films and was on hand to hear her new composition played in the Teatro Verdi by the Orchestra di Pordenone & Coro del Fruili as conducted by Andrej Goričar. Her score enabled us to really see the film, devoid of any post-facto contextualisation, in ways that were connected to the original intent. She allowed us a bit of both but underscoring the documentation on display to allow our own interpretation – a most historical musical agenda, incredibly effective and created.

 

Lillian Gish

Way Down East (1920), with Stephen Horne, BFI, Too Much: Melodrama on Film

Another film that anyone professing to blog about silent film should surely have seen already but as with the two above, I’ve been waiting to see it “live” on film and with an ace accompanist. I was not disappointed and am persuaded that Lillian Gish probably influenced Griffiths’ development of the story. Working not only with the best actor he also had one of the best cameramen and had clearly been watching the works of Sjostrom and Weber as this story is uncompromising. It’s also a surprise to see the film take the approach it does to Gish’s unmarried mother character and, indeed, to see her fight back against the guilty party: This man – an honoured guest at your table – why don’t you find out what HIS life has been?

This feels more Gish than Griffith but either way it’s a direct hit on the Patriarchy where you least expect it. Anna’s driven by a rage of frustrated indignity at the unfairness of her situation and the fact that through no fault of her own she is denied happiness in the arms of the man she actually loves – played by Richard Barthelmess.

Stephen Horne provided yet another one-man orchestral score off the hoof and covered this film’s vast space and time with constantly evolving mood and melody all played on three or was it four instruments with just the two hands, or so he says!

 

The UK forecast...

Thank you to all who have programmed, played, introduced and archived this year, lets do even more in 2026 as I write my way towards my second million words…

 

 

 

Mary, Mungo and Neil… Hippfest at Home, Hippfest 2025

As online presentations go, Hippfest at Home is perhaps the most successful in capturing the atmosphere and the feeling of actually being there. You have establishing shots of the live introductions shot from the back of the stalls showing the lovely old stage of the oldest cinema in Scotland, the Hippodrome (1912) and then the option of seeing the film and the musicians accompanying. As always, Alison Strauss leads from the front with such relaxed expertise and enthusiasm – this kind of impassioned poise is reflected across the whole team who love the films but also the audience and the combination is what makes this impossible festival work so well it is now in it’s 15^th edition.

The hottest ticket for this year was as Alison said, Mr Neil Brand who gave the most entertaining talk about his singular career from his first professional accompaniment – Buster’s Sherlock Jnr (1924) – to his most recent – in the most “meta” moment he had to improvise to a mystery film selected by Alison. Neil, always so eloquent and, damn it, charming, had my entire family rapt as Dad’s choice suddenly engaged them all – “ah Georges Méliès!” said the son lured away from his PS5 – “I really must see Nosferatu…” said the daughter and “so that’s my friend Netti’s old landlady!” said my wife watching Cecil Hepworth’s eldest Elizabeth aged two who we met in Camden in the 1990s in her 80s. Even Mungo the dog was of course transfixed by Rover, the Hepworth’s dog, who outwits a kidnapper by driving his getaway vehicle back home… something to aspire to young pup but not in my car!

Neil had updated a show and tell he’d previously performed at the Edinburgh Fringe and it was a story not just of his career and method but also silent film and its revival over the last few decades. He talked of his audition with the BFI and how his acting training had helped inform his response to Sherlock Jnr, a quite intimidating work from an actual genius who gave signals not just to his audience but also the players he knew would accompany his film. Neil recalls the exact moment when the audience’s reaction inspired him to follow Buster’s promptings in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

Neil Brand

Dullard that I am, I’ve mostly focused on the silent film live experience from the perspective of accompaniment and film without really understanding the impact the audience reaction to both has on the player and vice versa. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction and this is a Mobius Strip of emotion and anticipation. Neil showed Robert Siodmak, Edgar G. Ulmer and Billy Wilder’s People on Sunday (1930) and got the audience to score the mood by a show of hands during key moments. Not only were our anticipations split on the direction of Wilder’s smart scripting, but Neil was able to flavour the narrative in ways that reinforced the second-guessing. It was a virtuosic performance all round from a consummate communicator.

We had the wonders of  Méliès’ hand-coloured Impossible Voyage (1906), the dark-heart of the definitive vampire film, Murnau’s Nosferatu (1922) and finished off with a clever home movie called Early Birds which was a colour film from the fifties (? nowt on IMDN but it was Alison’s Mystery Film after all!) in which a baby escapes from his cot, totters along the hall, shuffles down the stairs and makes a mess in the kitchen. It was delightful and Neil talked us through his musical reaction to this most unpredictable of delights.

It was genuine family entertainment and all on Catherine’s birthday too – the best thing on telly!

Mr Brand and the Baby

The Pride of the Clan (1917), with Stephen Horne and Elizabeth Jane Baldry

 

There was also drama on a grander scale from one of the great originators of the art of film performance, Mary Pickford in Maurice Tourneur’s The Pride of the Clan (1917). This was a recording of the Friday night gala introduced by Alison and the doyen of silent filmography, Pamela Hutchinson both of whom looked like they’d just stepped off the Oscar’s red carpet. This film was also accompanied by the dreamy team of Stephen Horne and Elizabeth Jane Baldry who had previously accompanied the fabulous The Swallow and the Titmouse (1924) a film that really suits their combination of piano and harp.

Mary plays Marget MacTavish who takes over as Chieftain of the clan after her father drowns at sea. She’s about to marry Jamie Campbell (Matt Moore) and there’s some silliness with couples in the clan biting sixpence in half so they can hang it around each other’s necks – HG Wells should have sued! But it’s all in fun even when Jamie is revealed to be of noble blood and his birth mother tries to sweep him away to polite society. Yeah, good luck with that lady, this is Mary P you’re contending with…

Tourneur’s locations are well chosen to create a genuinely Caledonian feel and the FOMO was real as Elizabeth-Jane’s harp Oberon added further Celtic magic along with Stephen’ expert innovations as the silent film equation gained an extra element with the two telepathically in tune with audience and each other following Mary’s lead on screen. I saw this film in Pordenone but it was presented here in the way that only Hippfest can: the fifth element!

 

The Near Shore: A Scottish and Irish Cine-Concert, with Patrick Smyth

 

As someone who is more Irish and Scottish than English – what do you expect from Liverpool la’? – I was especially impressed with the selection of the five films that made up this Cine-Concert. These shorts were all from the IFI Irish Film Archive and National Library of Scotland Moving Image Archive and introduced by Sunniva O’Flynn from the IFI – you cannot understate how international Hippfest is, with collaborators from Norway and Sweden, over to the Americas and beyond.

It began with the earliest known film made by an Irishman, Royal Clyde Yacht Club (1899), which featured a race in the Firth of Clyde and then Ireland by Air – featuring Scottish aviatrix Winnie Drinkwater (1933) which also returned via the Firth with stunning views of my favourite Isle of Arran and a mist-covered Goatfell. Before that we saw shots of Galway – historical family location of The Joyces – and an Ireland still between the centuries with ducks and donkeys in the streets mixed with grand municipal buildings.

As a former Butlins employee – a Hi-de-hi-d for two summer seasons in my youth – I was impressed with Butlins camp photographer John Tomkins’ tow films – Butlins Holiday Camp and Rush Hour (1950s). Tomkins filmed the inmates, sorry holiday-makers, and then screened the films so they could see themselves at the end of the week. This is so much in the spirit of Butlin’s and I especially loved the one in which the children take over, robbing the redcoats blazers as they are frozen by some child’s magic… it was all, literally a dream.

Galway, 1933.

Finally, there was The Farm below the Mountain (1958), Scottish filmmaker Ernest Tiernan’s record of his travels with his young bride Kathleen to meet her family in rural Ireland… so familiar and in beautiful home-movie colour. We have something like this at home… maybe not so well shot!

The films were accompanied by renowned Irish avant-garde pianist, Paul G. Smyth who overlayed some lush textures on these films just out of memory and so full of human commonality. In the Hippodrome there’s no separation by time, we’re all connected as elements of the live cinematic mix, even from home we’re at the Hippfest home.

Until next year then and a visit in person, I think the family are convinced now! Thank you all for the wonder and the show.

 

With Reindeer and Sled in Inka Länta’s Winterland (1926), Hippfest at Home, Hippfest #15

 

Unable to make the annual trek to the mystic shores of Borrowstounness, or Bo'ness as it has become, on the south shores of the Firth of Forth, I am at least able to experience some of the events of the annual silent film festival online via Hippfest at Home. This annual festival is a miracle of imagination and diligence, a cineastes’ Brigadoon coming forth every March as the spring breezes blow away the cobwebs and chill, banishing the modern world’s prosaic unpleasantness. The past comes into view on the Hippodrome’s big screen and with the aid of some of the finest musicians in the World, we are immersed in the timeless moments of recognition and remembrance: With projectors and piano in Alison Strauss’ Spring Wonderland.

I haven’t had much involvement with reindeer to date but for an hour on Friday night myself and the family were virtual herders watching the lives of the Sámi people who co-existed with them in the most precarious of ways in the far north of Sweden, across Scandinavia and even into Russia. The Sámi are now the last indigenous people in Europe inhabiting the region of Sápmi (formerly Lapland, a term no longer used) with some 10% still making a living by herding reindeer. With a population of just 80,000 across five countries, they are a fascinating group with a rich cultural heritage.

Tonight’s screening encompassed Sámi old and new with the UK premiere of a new score by Sámi-Finnish joiker and electronic musician Hildá Länsman plus sound designer Tuomas Norvio, collaborating with the Norwegian-Sámi musician Lávre Johan Eira and Swedish composer, cellist and bass guitarist Svante Henryson. A joik or yoik is the traditional form of Sámi song and is a form of chanting which is one of the oldest musical traditions in Europe. Here it was deployed alongside more recent traditional European instruments and electronica to create a visceral and sometimes startling score to this restored documentation of this remarkable people.

The depiction we see was, as with other ethnographical documentaries – Flaherty’s Nanook of the North (1922) for example – orchestrated by the director, Swede Erik Bergström, using actual Sámi all listed under their names, so Inka Länta is indeed the real rein-deal. This restoration project was led by Magnus Rosborn of the Swedish Film Institute who was on hand to detail the background to the film and the work he had to tirelessly led. He explained that Erik Bergström worked in the nomad school in the Jokkmokk area and only made two films, clearly inspired to show what he knew of this ancient lifestyle especially as the education system tried to teach Swedish and to irradicate the Sámi culture.

Magnus found part of the film in the Eye Museum in Amsterdam and later a camera negative all of which had to be re-edited based on an intertitle list from the Swedish censorship office to recreate the narrative as originally intended. There are still missing segments, mostly of reindeer slaughter – possibly censored at some point – but what remains now is a crystal clear and undeniably raw but beautiful film. Magnus referenced the golden age of Swedish silent film and we are seeing a golden age of Swedish film restoration with this film along with Stiller’s Gösta berlings saga (1924) and Molander’s two films based on Selma Lagerlöf’s epic Jerusalem, were among the highlights of last year’s Italian film festivals dedicated to restored and silent films.

The restoration of this film debuted further north though in the Tromsø International Film Festival who also commissioned the score. Festival director Lisa Hoen, appearing in a lovely Sámi top, her grandmother was Sámi, explained more about the film’s background and the unfortunate treatment of the Sámi peoples which is still in the process of being addressed. The Länta family are apparently still living in the Jokkmokk municipality and you wonder at how their lives have changed over the last century. In this way Bergström’s film is still doing its part in raising awareness and celebrating a people more sinned against than sinning: a way of life in harmony with nature, tough though it might have been.

This is one of the central conflicts in watching Inka Länta’s Winterland, the landscape looks stunning and the restoration has created such a crystal clear view of this world but at the same time there is death and hardship, the Länta family living on the edge having to move with the seasons and hope their reindeer stay free from wolves, and other threats that might lead them astray. At one point we see the family having to de-camp and move their herd because a lone wolf has killed one of the deer. Petter, the best wolf hunter pursues the animal with the aid of Inka’s brother and even if concocted this is a breathless hunt with man and rifle succeeding.

This is life in sub-zero jeopardy with Inka’s family constantly on the move with the seasons coming down from the mountains to the woodlands at the start of winter and never stopping for long… The film opens with light-blue tinted tracking shots of endless snow-covered landscapes, forests of frozen pine trees and a lone figure wading through crisp deep snow. Then we see some frozen water and some pines on the woods at the lower levels.

The man is Guttorm Blind come to visit a siida – a reindeer-breeding community – to retrieve some deer that have wandered off from his own herd. We see a goahti hut belonging to Inka Länta who lives there with her brother Amul and her maternal aunt. Next door live her maternal uncle, Petter Rassa and his children… plus dogs. We see her chopping wood for the fire that keeps the huts habitable in the relentless cold. The deer are identified by their ear markings and Inka, Petter and Guttorm gather his portion before returning to the hut for food and rest. The deer graze on lichen below the snow, perfectly adapted to their circumstances along with their human partners.

Not much happens but a lot happens and this is very mindful watching, a slower world in which young children playing in the snow with their cousin Inka is surprisingly gratifying. So many things we take for granted, no taps out here, no running water and Inka filling a pan of snow to melt for water for cooking and for the dogs. Petter chops up a deer carcass and the family eats bone marrow with even the little ones adept at carving out the marrow with knives.

In part two, it is February and Inka gets the sleds ready for the long trip to Jokkmokk Market… a mad ride with the low-riding sleds attached to reindeers with the riders sometimes dragged from their perch by wayward steeds. Who knows how much of this is actuality or playful but it’s quite a sight and the cinematography is superb from the experienced Gustaf Boge, with whom Bergström had already made one film about Inka Länta. The scenes at the market are poetically composed and we see how the Sami economy is based on trade and exchange with some harvesting ptarmigan as other weave or sell imported coffee and other modern goods.

We meet the local constable, the richest man, various notables such as Anta Pirak and his wife, Henrik Omma, the Laestadianism preacher August Lindberg and others probably all people the director knew well? Talking of which we see the “School Inspector” talking to local parents, is this Bergström’s Hitchcock moment? We see the nomad school where he worked which is formed of four huge goahti huts with smoking “chimneys” quite different from the wooden buildings in the centre of the town.

The School Inspector talks to parents is this Bergström?

Inka also meets with Guttorm Blind, is there a budding romance here? I’d like to know for sure but you root for them anyway. Soon it’s a return to the wilderness and the family uprooting their camp and moving their reindeer away from the wolves. The wolf hunt is well constructed and there’s a superb hand held sequence as Petter races across a frozen lake on fast-moving skis. If you’ve ever watched cross-country skiing, this is faster. The wolf is killed and skinned just as a reindeer will later be shown, after Guttorm’s herd is rounded up for slaughter. Vegans look away now and maybe some carnivores… this is the process. Inka is there as well as Guttorm’s father… oh come on, there’s definitely something going on!

The final sequence sees Petter Länta and Amul setting off after some missing reindeer and this is the most heart-breaking part of the film as the frozen dead body of one of the family is found and placed onto a sled. Bergström films someone rolling down the hill but given the condition of the body they find this is likely to have been staged. Things look bleak for Inka after her brother has died but as she wanders sorrowfully considering a future away from the reindeer and hour mountainous home, who should she run into but… no spoilers.

Guttorm Blind

Whatever the imposed narrative from Bergström, his film is respectful to the culture he as attempting to capture on film and artistic licence can be never more necessary than when filming at -47 degrees! This film is still affecting and none more so that in this presentation. As someone of half Scottish and one tenth Scandinavian heritage, it’s fascinating to see this world so near and yet so far away in history.

As Alison Strauss said in her introduction, part of her job satisfaction comes from finding films that people didn’t know they wanted to see and the unfolding of this evening on screen exactly proves her point. Excellent work all involved!

 

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