pure cinema

Hello all, just thinking about our avante garde friends and their attempts to create 'pure cinema' and wondering if such a thing as 'pure cinema' is possible and if so what could it possibly be and also why the preoccupation with purity in the first place??
Old mate Clement Greenberg writes: "It quickly emerged that the unique and proper area of competence of each art coincided with all that was unique to the nature of its medium".  Clement goes on for some time but basically what he's getting at is that each art practice is unique in one particular domain, i.e. the medium succeeds where no other medium can, and whats more it is the medium itself  that defines this uniqueness.  Clement states that paintings unique quality is that it is flat.  I am somewhat perplexed by this claim as photography and film exist on a flat surface and can you not paint a sculpture and call it a painting?  Can someone please help me with this?  Nonetheless I am a little intrigued by the idea that each medium has a quality that is unique to itself.  What could it be for film?  The cut perhaps, that is quite unique and integral to the film medium.  Could it be the multi layered culmination and integration of the visual image, music and narrative?  This too is unique to film.
If we consider either of these characteristics as the defining factors, the idea of pure cinema seems idiotic, imagine 'the pure cut' or 'the pure montage'.  It's downright silly.  Can cinema be 'pure'?  Is this an idea for wankers?
It seems to me that the idea of purity with relation to 'art' is all tied up with ideas of the spirit.  The spirit is expressed through 'pure' artistic expression.  Such expression is realised through a spontaneous outpouring of inspiration that is unhindered by the ego blah blah blah.  If my little suspicion is correct I do wonder how film could ever hope to be 'pure' as it relies so heavily on planning, orgainisation and collaboration?

Nosferatu

The 1922 film Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, directed by F.W.Murnau, is a very funny horror picture with modern sensibilities.  Produced in the era of German expressionist cinema Nosferatu certainly feels like a film of the early twentieth century, it is silent, built of stagnant shots dipped in sepia tones, the acting is symbolic and exaggerated, there is however an undercurrent of sophistication that feels entirely modern.  For me this element is the rhythm and pacing of the film.  There is a gentle building of tempo and intrigue that sucked me right in.  

The film begins very slowly and I was sure I was in for a painful history lesson, that at best could end in sleep.  I did however, find myself more and more engaged with the story as the film progressed.  For me the story telling element of the silent film we have studied this past semester has been the biggest disappointment, the story is often incoherent, disjointed or ridiculous.  Not the case with Nosferatu.  Bram Stoker's horror fairy tale Dracula is retold masterfully through the conventions of silent film.  I think this is one of the most impressive aspects of Nosferatu, it is silent.  By this I mean that much of the silent film we have watched has been in opposition to the constraint of silence, requiring intertitles to carry the narrative, constantly breaking up the flow of the film to explain what has, is, or is going to happen.  For me this  has been a major hindrance, interrupting flow, rhythm and coherence.  Nosferatu is not like this, the intertitles are used sparingly, the majority of the narrative is realised through the moving image alone, when the intertitles are incorporated they are in time with the rhythm of the narrative and do not disrupt but enrich.  The film is devoted to serving the narrative and succeeds extremely well in it's aspirations to tell a good story.  This I suppose is why I feel the film has modern sensibilities that distinguish it from other films of the era.    

Lucas' Mechanical image: D.W. Griffiths Supreme Achievement- "A Corner in W...

Lucas' Mechanical image: Buster Keaton "The Boat".

"The Boat" written and directed by Buster Keaton and Eddie Cline is a quintessential Buster Keaton Film, containing many familiar gags. Buster blunders, fumbles and wrestles with the mechanics of his created environment. Though we may sympathise with Busters' family he never comes across as a fool or idiot, but bounces from mishap to mishap with a charming wistfulness. Ingeneous and determined always, it is with Buster I found myself sympathising.

I am not sure weather it is all silent film, or good silent film, or just Buster Keaton films , but I find I am engaged with the medium in a way that is more akin to reading a book than watching a film. I don't feel like a passive viewer, I am relied upon to embellish elements of sound, narrative and even character. It's a good thing to be a more active viewer I think.

The technological limitations of the time seem to enhance the work rather than detract from it. The black and white, still, silent, long shots render the film with a certain romance. I don't think colour and sound would in any way enhance the work but rather give it a cartoon quality and indeed it would seem the 'Looney Tunes' cartoons owe a lot to Buster Keaton. The black and white, silent format gives the work a grace and sophistication that could perhaps be achieved no other way.

D.W. Griffiths Supreme Achievement- "A Corner in Wheat"

Griffiths’ 1909 short film "A Corner in Wheat" is a poetic meditation on capitalism based on a Frank Norris poem.  

Griffiths’ ushers in the beginnings of film as narrative, as a new artistic story telling medium.  This must have been quite the revelation for audiences of 1909.  For a modern day viewer this simplistic, black and white silent film is prehistoric in style and content.  It is like a museum piece.  Despite this and perhaps because of this the film is very engaging.  

“A Corner in Wheat” is so incredibly foreign to the present day experience of modern cinema, though in it we recognize the great great grandfather of contemporary film.   Griffiths’ film utilizes the same cinematic language of the parallel montage that is so intrinsic and vital to contemporary cinema.  As a contemporary viewer I understood Griffiths’ language, though for me it was not about what he said so much as the way in which it was said.  The long still shots saturated in monochromatic tones accompanied by a musical piece that was just as vital to the narrative and atmosphere of the piece was elegant and poetic.  The marriage of the visual image and music is delightful.  I only wish Griffiths had not tried to explain so much to the viewer by employing intertitles and melodramatic actors, but let the silent simplicity of this newfound medium radiate unencumbered.