The Silent Movie Day Blogathon 2022


It’s here!! Welcome, everyone, to the Silent Movie Day Blogathon–back for a second year in the row!

We’ve have another great lineup of posts on a wide variety of silent film subjects–just how I like it! I’ll be adding the new posts periodically throughout the day, so be sure and check back to see what’s new!

Sound good? I agree! Let’s get today’s celebration of non-talkies started.

The Roster

Silent-ology | “10 Great Silent Film Performances That Have Stayed With Me.”

Realweegiemidgetreviews | Sunset Boulevard (1950)

The Thoughts of One Truly Loved | My Best Girl (1927)

Silver Screenings | Mickey (1918)

Nitrateglow | The greatest hit films of 1922

Taking Up Room | White Tiger (1923)

Brooksie at the Movies | “Cherie Rich, Australia’s Only Mack Sennett Bathing Beauty.”

The Everyday Cinephile | “12 Genres, 24 Must-See Silent Movies.”

LaurelandHardyBlog | Liberty (1929)

That William Powell Site | The Great Gatsby (1926)

Critica Retro | The Finances of the Grand Duke (1924)

Silver Screenings | “Why Audiences (Still) Fall in Love With Mabel Normand.”

Whimsically Classic | The Freshman (1925)

L.A. Daily Mirror | “Hollywood Heights: Mabel Normand Studio Leads the Way.”

Many Thanks, Film Bloggers!

Aaaaand the second Silent Movie Day Blogathon is a wrap! To all the talented bloggers who took the time to participate, a very hearty:

We had a fine variety of posts this year on topics ranging from 1922 box office hits to Sennett’s Bathing Beauties, and I know I’m still going through them all myself! Many thanks as well to the many readers took the time to stop by and read the posts–and are still stopping by, might I add.

Will it be back next year, becoming an annual tradition much like our Buster blogathon? Hmm…it’s always a possibility!

10 Great Silent Film Performances That Have Stayed With Me

This is my own post for the Silent Movie Day Blogathon 2022. Hope you enjoy!

I think we can agree that there are too many great silent film performances to count. Just try making a list sometime–from Emil Jannings in The Last Laugh to Lillian Gish in The Wind to Buster Keaton in The General, picking out the cream of the crop is surprisingly difficult. So for this post I decided: why not write about some performances that were particularly moving to me, personally? Performances that really struck a chord? 

So that’s exactly what I decided to do. In no particular order, here are ten wonderful silent era performances that made a deep impression on me. In no particular order, that is, except for the final three.

10. Buster Keaton in The Cameraman (1928)

Yes, I know it was technically an MGM feature (gasp!) but oh what a sweet and very funny comedy The Cameraman is, and how equally sweet and funny Buster is in it. Buster is wonderful in everything, of course, but he’s extra endearing here, even letting himself be surprisingly vulnerable in the seaside scene near the end. I for one certainly think his time at MGM had a honeymoon period.

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UPDATE: Less Than A Week Until The Silent Movie Day Blogathon!

It’s coming closer! The Silent Movie Day Blogathon hosted by myself and In the Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood is a mere six days away!

Silent Movie Day–destined to be one of your favorite holidays, behind Thanksgiving and Christmas–is an official yearly celebration of the silent era. Anyone can participate in any way they choose: by watching silent films, sharing the love of them on social media, hosting a screening, donating to an archive…whatever works for you! We decided to host a silent film blogathon for the second year in a row, and happily quite a few people have signed up. (If you’re interested, there’s still time–no pressure!) We’re almost there, folks!


I did want to add that goodness, I’ve been a bit AWOL this month, haven’t I? Probably the most since Silent-ology started, surprisingly enough. But it’s for a good reason–on top of a couple other non-blog-related writing projects, I’ve been asked to contribute a program essay to one of my favorite film festivals. So happily, my writing time and attention has been well occupied lately! So never fear, Silent-ology is rarely far from my mind, and if I’m ever AWOL it’s probably because it lead me to an exciting opportunity (and I can’t get by without sleep, ha ha).

Also, a reminder: October is coming.


Without further ado, a copy of le roster:

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What Films Did People See In The Nickelodeon Era?

A version of this article was first published on Classic Movie Hub–I hope you enjoy it!

We’re all at least somewhat familiar with nickelodeons, the tiny 1900s-era theaters where patrons paid a nickel to take in a few films. And we all know that these quaint little storefronts evolved into the familiar neighborhood theaters and big city “movie palaces.” But not everyone knows exactly what nickelodeon-era motion pictures were like–aside from the usual Georges Méliès films, little clips of ladies dancing, and famous early works like The Great Train Robbery (1903).

A typical neighborhood nickelodeon.

So if you could travel over a century back in time and pop into the nearest nickelodeon, what films were you likely to see? The subjects were as endless back then as they are on YouTube today–everything from travelogues to comedies to military films to, yes, films of funny animals. 

Heroic animals, too. See: Rescued by Rover (1905).
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ANNOUNCEMENT: The Return Of The Silent Movie Day Blogathon!

Hear ye, hear ye! Me and Crystal of In the Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood are happy to announce that we’re bringing back the popular Silent Movie Day Blogathon for another year! And why not? After all, it is an annual holiday, much like Christmas and Easter, and should be celebrated with just as much enthusiasm am I right?

The precise manner of celebrating is up to you.

As you might recall if you were around for the blogathon last year, in 2021 Chad Hunter, executive director of Video Trust and director of the Pittsburgh Silent Film Society, archivist Brandee B. Cox of the Academy Film Archive, and archivist Steven K. Hill of the UCLA Film & Television Archive all put their heads together and decided to create a National Silent Movie Day. Described simply as “a day to celebrate and enjoy silent movies,” they chose September 29 as the official celebration date and made it an annual event. As they wrote:

Anyone can participate! Ask your local cinema to show a silent picture with live music; watch a silent movie on a streaming platform or on disc; write a blog or an article for your local newspaper; read a book about your favorite silent movie star; or create a podcast. Use your imagination and post on your social media on September 29 to show how you celebrate the day. This is our moment as silent movie fans, academics, programmers, and newcomers to share our mutual love and appreciation for this unique period in motion picture history. It is also an opportunity to rally around surviving silent pictures that are still in need of preservation.

Don’t forget the swell logo!

So once again Crystal and I are hosting a one-day Silent Movie Day Blogathon–and all bloggers are invited!

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Rudolph Valentino, Elvis Presley, And The Gilded Box Of Fame

Fame–just the word itself has a strange fascination. When you spend a lot of time learning about the rise and fall of old Hollywood stars, it’s a word you can’t help pondering. It was, after all, the magnet that kept pulling performers to Hollywood, the summit every performer kept struggling towards. It’s quite literally something one in a million people will ever experience, and yet how many of us have fantasized about it, if only to amuse ourselves?

“Where would my star be on Hollywood Boulevard?”

And then there’s that great mystery of extreme fame, or the tragedy of it, if you will. The grim and ever-lengthening list of those wildly beloved performers who reached that glorious summit and found themselves slipping. Marilyn Monroe, Elvis Presley, Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, Prince–to name a few major names–all pulled into that same terrible story. Extreme glory, extreme stress, unimaginable ups and downs–and pills. That’s not counting the legendary names who died in sudden accidents, or for other unexpected reasons…but there’s something uniquely heartbreaking about those pills.

How is it that someone can achieve unfathomable success doing what they genuinely love to do–what they were born to do–and still have their story end so miserably? How can your passion affect millions of people’s lives for the better, only to lose yourself so young? Various answers seem obvious, of course: worldwide fame is extremely stressful; drug addiction destroys many people’s lives no matter who they are; maybe human beings simply aren’t built to handle extreme fame, especially in the modern era. No doubt lots of people would say it’s not such a big mystery, and maybe it isn’t. But perhaps, in some cases, there’s a little more to it–something deeper and more fundamental to all of us. What if you reached that glorious summit and found that at the top, waiting for you to climb in, was a box?

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“Singin’ In The Rain” And The Silent Era–What It Got Right (And Wrong)

What’s my favorite movie, you ask? Not just my favorite silent movie, but my very favorite movie in the whole wide world? You could ask me that question today or go back in time to when I was 8 years old, and the answer would still be: Singin’ In The Rain! (Since you have a time machine, go ahead and zoom forward a few decades–my answer’s still the same, isn’t it?)


Of all the classic old movies my family enjoyed while I was growing up (my mom loved them so our home movie library was practically all pre-1960s), we might’ve watched Singin’ In The Rain the most. Its pitch-perfect blend of music, dance, art, humor, vibrant color and sheer unadulterated joy never, ever got old. Film history would be much poorer without it, in my confident opinion.

And speaking of film history, I have a confession to make. It didn’t dawn on me until recently that, hey, Singin’ In The Rain is all about the transition from silents to talkies, and I know quite a bit more about silents than I used to–maybe write a post on my favorite film in the world? Why didn’t I think of that before?! (Okay, I think I know why–this film is just that familiar. It’s like Desi Arnaz’s singing voice. My dad once mentioned to me that he never cared for Desi’s singing, and–having grown up with I Love Lucy episodes too–I realized I literally could not judge Desi’s voice objectively. To this day I have no idea if it’s good or bad, it’s just Desi’s singing voice and that is that. Anyways.) Since this is the 70th anniversary of Singin’ In The Rain and The Classic Movie Muse is a hosting a blogathon in its honor, the time has finally come for Silent-ology analyze what this classic film got right about the silent era and where it was off the mark. A blow-by-blow post would be pretty long, so let’s do some general analysis and then focus on a couple of key scenes. Let’s get to it!

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Celebrating The Fourth With “The Spirit of ’76” (1905)

Happy Independence Day, U.S. readers! Before heading to the BBQ, park, parade or lake (here in Minnesota no Fourth is complete without heading to one of our 10,000 lakes), how about taking in a teeny patriotic short courtesy of the American Mutoscope and Biograph Company? Accompanied by Ben Model, no less! Back in 1905 it would’ve been played in a Mutoscope machine–silently– and here it is today, playing on our phones and laptops at a moment’s notice:

So teeny–so patriotic! And familiar, no? Ben wrote about this short (which was made available courtesy of the Library of Congress’s Paper Print Collection) on his blog a few years ago. He wrote that while he usually doesn’t use familiar songs while accompanying silent films, in this case, “the songs ‘Yankee Doodle’ and ‘The Girl I Left Behind’–heard here–are practically synonymous with the image of these three musicians.” (Here’s the link to his post:

The iconic image of these musicians came from the 1876 painting The Spirit of ’76 by Archibald Willard. It was exhibited at the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, and chromolithographs of it became very popular. Eventually it was even taken on tour.

The elderly patriot in the middle was apparently modeled after Willard’s father, and was also inspired by his grandfather, who had been a part of the Revolution. So there’s some layers to it, you might say.

And of course it’s been parodied ever since. There’s literally so many examples that your head could explode, but here’s a Mickey Mouse comic book cover:

The Simpsons, because of course they did this at some point:

And here’s a particularly random one: photographer John Swope, Henry Fonda and James Stewart dressed as the Marx Brothers dressed as the Willard musicians. This was dreamed up for a “Spirit of ’76” themed birthday party Marion Davies threw for William Randolph Hearst in 1937. Alrighty then!

So Happy Fourth readers, have a fine day and make some of your own patriotic memories!

“My Eccentric Roommate”–Stan Laurel’s Early Memories Of Charlie Chaplin

Goodness, is it really July already? Why does the lovely month of June always fly by like it was shot out of a cannon?! Anyways, let’s kick of July with this amusing reminisce from the great Stan Laurel, recalling a time back in the early 1910s when his music hall troupe “Fred Karno’s Army” toured the U.S. What other famed comedian was also in that exact same troupe? Charlie Chaplin!

Image credit of the cheery troupe:

This essay is from a 1982 book called The Legend of Charlie Chaplin, compiled by Peter Haines, which I used for a post once before. This is a collection of essays and interviews by Chaplin’s friends, fellow actors, and other contemporaries, reprinted from hard-to-find publications that ranged from the 1910s-1970s. If you love Charlie, it’s well worth seeking out. Parts of this essay are probably familiar, being pretty widely quoted, but there’s other parts that might be new to you–especially a funny story at the end that sounds like something from a slightly lowbrow 1910s comedy!

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