The first time I screened Where Is My Wife? it was a 16 mm print spliced with Scotch tape that smelled like vinegar and old Valentines. Ninety-three years after its premiere, the film still detonates like a roman candle inside the stale museum of silent-comedy clichés. Florence Gilbert—equal-skulled to Clara Bow yet u...
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Comparing the cinematic DNA and archive impact of two defining moments in cult history.
Herman C. Raymaker
Edgar Jones
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" The first time I screened Where Is My Wife? it was a 16 mm print spliced with Scotch tape that smelled like vinegar and old Valentines. Ninety-three years after its premiere, the film still detonates like a roman candle inside the stale museum of silent-comedy clichés. Florence Gilbert—equal-skulled to Clara Bow yet unjustly exiled to footnotes—plays a bride who evaporates between platform 8 and the honeymoon suite. The camera doesn’t lose her; it unleashes her, turning absence into an anarchic..."
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