A Modern Priscilla: A Gentle, Sometimes Odd, Trip Back in Time

Right off the bat, if you’re looking for high-octane drama or even just a brisk pace, you can probably skip A Modern Priscilla. This one is for folks who really dig into film history or appreciate a very, very gentle character study. For everyone else, it might feel like watching paint dry.

It’s a peculiar little film, for sure. We follow Priscilla, played by Bobby Folsom, through what feels like a series of vignettes more than a cohesive story. You just sort of watch her go about her days.

Folsom has this interesting presence. Sometimes she’s really compelling, holding your attention with just a look or a small gesture. Other times, the camera just lingers on her for a beat too long, and you start to wonder what you're supposed to be feeling. 🤷‍♀️

There's a scene, early on, where she's just sitting by a window, looking out. It goes on and on. You can almost feel the movie trying to convince you this moment matters deeply, but it just sort of… is.

The whole thing feels very much like a product of its time. The sets are simple, almost theatrical. Sometimes you can see the backdrops wobble just a little. It adds a certain charm, if you're in the right mood.

What really sticks with me is the costuming. Priscilla's outfits are always immaculate, even when she's supposed to be having a rough time. There's this one hat, a wide-brimmed thing with a feather, that appears in three different scenes. It became a bit of a running joke in my head.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of A Modern Priscilla (1929) through its definitive frames.

There's a sequence where Priscilla is at some kind of social gathering. The crowd scenes have this oddly empty feeling, like half the extras wandered off for a coffee break. It’s hard to tell if it's an artistic choice or just a budget thing.

The pacing is… deliberate. If you blink, you probably won't miss anything. It moves along at its own speed, like a lazy river.

One small moment caught my eye: a shot of a cat just strolling across the background during a somewhat serious conversation. Nobody reacts. The cat just owns the scene for a few seconds. It felt incredibly human, somehow. A little flub that became a highlight. 🐈

The film doesn't really build to a grand conclusion. It just sort of… ends. Like you’ve been invited to watch someone’s life for a short while, and then the curtain just closes. No big fireworks.

Is it a forgotten masterpiece? Definitely not. Is it a terrible movie? Not really. It’s just kind of there. A curio, perhaps, for those who want to see how stories were told back then, especially with such a focus on one individual's quiet existence.

I wouldn't recommend it for a casual movie night. But if you’re a film student, or someone obsessed with the silent era, there are little nuggets of interest. Just prepare for a slow ride. 🐌

Didja notice?

• That one hat shows up a lot.
• The cat cameo, totally unscripted, probably.
• Some of the set pieces look like they're about to fall over.
• Bobby Folsom's expressions are sometimes way over the top, then totally blank.
• The piano score sometimes feels like it's from a completely different movie.