

J.H. Wareing’s blood, blackening the Moroccan leather of his own ledgers, opens Luring Shadows like an inkblot test for the Jazz-Age-to-come: what do you see—robbery, patricide, class revenge? The camera, timid by 1915 standards, nonetheless sneaks low across the library floor, past fallen share-certificates that loo...

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Comparing the cinematic DNA and archive impact of two defining moments in cult history.

Joseph Levering

Tom Collins
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" J.H. Wareing’s blood, blackening the Moroccan leather of his own ledgers, opens Luring Shadows like an inkblot test for the Jazz-Age-to-come: what do you see—robbery, patricide, class revenge? The camera, timid by 1915 standards, nonetheless sneaks low across the library floor, past fallen share-certificates that look like white flags of a plutocracy surrendering to chaos. Enter Violet Palmer’s Florence, eyes ringed with kohl and kerosene grief, her cigarette trembling like the city’s first sk..."

