B&W;/color, four discs, NR, 861 min. plus supplements, mono, fullscreen, Street: March 7
DVD $99.95
First Run: L, 1889-1918, NA
KINO
One of the most memorable images from the dawn of cinema is the moment when a desperado aims straight at the camera and fires, from Edwin S. Porter's The Great Train Robbery (1903). Porter is without a doubt the star of Kino's four-disc box set, as the most creative and historic films--Robbery, Life of an American Fireman and the very trippy The Dream of a Rarebit Fiend--were all directed by him. Clocking in at more than 14 hours (minus supplements), The Invention of the Movies is the most comprehensive collection of the Edison Company's shorts and features ever made available. The package offers viewers the choice of watching the films individually, as a program or punctuated by information-packed interviews with archivists and academics. For instance, a New York City college professor who writes on race issues comments on the racist stereotype shorts, "The Watermelon Patch" and "Cohen's Fire Sale." The most intriguing aspect of this voluminous collection of prints, gathered from the Museum of Modern Art and the Library of Congress, is the fact that the Edison Company's films started out as a slightly lurid voyeuristic novelty with, as the on-screen notes put it, "sex and violence" predominating (i.e. boxing and women doing "suggestive" dances). By the time Edison's chief rivals had started to make inroads, Edison had opted for respectability, turning out genteel pictures that are interesting primarily for historical reasons. The element Edison resisted all too clearly was a "star system." Thus, the films in this package go from sheer novelty (featuring real-life stars such as boxer James J. Corbett and Annie Oakley) to riveting explorations of a new art form (the Porter films) to rather straightforward dramas and comedies. The final entry, The Unbeliever (1918), is fascinating precisely because of its star content: Erich Von Stroheim does a turn as a ruthless German officer, and the film was directed by Alan Crosland (The Jazz Singer). The set is a definite buy for film buffs and film teachers, but showing small children some of the early pieces might not be advisable. For example, the documentary short "Electrocuting an Elephant" is still one of the creepiest films around, even after 102 years.