There is a moment—roughly twelve minutes in—when the camera forgets it is 1920 and simply levitates above Copenhagen’s central square, peering down like a tipsy archangel. Below, the city’s clocks cough, hiccup, then die. In that hush you can almost hear the film itself inhale, a celluloid gasp that still feels illega...
still_frame
still_frame
still_frame
still_frame
Comparing the cinematic DNA and archive impact of two defining moments in cult history.
Lau Lauritzen
Lau Lauritzen
Community
Log in to comment.
" There is a moment—roughly twelve minutes in—when the camera forgets it is 1920 and simply levitates above Copenhagen’s central square, peering down like a tipsy archangel. Below, the city’s clocks cough, hiccup, then die. In that hush you can almost hear the film itself inhale, a celluloid gasp that still feels illegal a century later. Danish cinema has always flirted with the uncanny—think of Pierrot’s moonlit melancholia or the marital masochism of Happy Though Married—yet none of those film..."
