Hope everyone likes trains: Improvising music to support 'La Roue,' a silent film seven hours long

Where I spent most of the day last Saturday: the Brattle prior to showtime.

Last weekend, I did something I've never done before. 

No, I didn't clean the fridge. Rather, I played music for a silent movie that's just under seven hours long.

The film: Abel Gance's 'La Roue' (1923), which the Brattle Theatre in Cambridge, Mass. screened as part of its programming to celebrate Silent Movie Day, which this year fell on Sunday, Sept. 29.

'La Roue' really is just under seven hours long—412 minutes, to be exact. And I played for all of it, shown in four parts, starting at noon and ending at about 8:30 p.m.

The screening included two brief intermissions, during which I remained at the keyboard and played music, and one longer pause of about 40 minutes about half-way through, which the Brattle generously termed a "dinner break."

Although rarely screened, 'La Roue' is known for influencing many directors by how it demonstrated the possibilities of cinema, at the time a new art form. French poet and playwright Jean Cocteau said: “There is cinema before and after La roue the way there is painting before and after Picasso.”

Only recently restored to its full length, 'La Roue' can now be seen as intended. And I think the most important thing to report from this experience is that Gance's rarely shown film really does hold the screen, at least as I experienced it last Saturday at the Brattle.

The melodramatic story centers on a locomotive engineer, Sisif, and his adopted daughter. Gance filmed 'La Roue' on location among the grimy railyards of Nice and along a narrow-gauge cog railway high in the French Alps. A lot of the film's symbolic power derives from images of wheels and track and signals and switches and other railway hardware.

About 60 people paid $25 each to experience 'La Roue' last Saturday—a bigger audience than I expected. Before the screening, after being introduced by the Brattle's Ned Hinkle, the first thing I said was: "I hope everyone here likes trains." Har!

Intrepid audience members settle in prior to 'La Roue' (1923). 

I then expressed what I feel is the one essential idea that a modern audience need to keep in mind when viewing a film such as 'La Roue.' You need to let it in. 'La Roue,' like a lot of silent films, is about big emotions that have been part of the human experience for centuries. As melodrama, it tells its story in a way that may seem unfamiliar and alien to us. Even so, let it in.

Okay, about the music. Just as Gance was pushing the boundaries of film, so does 'La Roue' push the limits of film accompaniment. I've never tried to do music for a film of such length all in one go. And as I work largely by improvisation, I was curious to see how it would go.

Over time, would the music get better and better? Or lousier and lousier?

Although the score was improvised, I did prepare. I was able to view the entire film online to get an idea  of the content and what kind of soundscape might help support it.

I also developed a suite of material to use in weaving together a score in real time. 

Because a lot of the film is about pain and suffering, the music was based largely on this set of notes:

So: a minor triad with an added fourth. To my ears, this sounds like pain, or at least lingering discomfort, in the sense that it's not easily resolved.

Often the notes showed up in arpeggiated form, to provide a sense of forward motion when needed, such as like this:

Because 'La Roue' is not the fastest-moving film, there's room to develop the material as the sequences unfold.

So over time, I was able to work with the four notes to create accompaniment that supported a wide range of emotions, but which I felt also held together musically.

Over seven hours, a lot of other melodic and harmonic material was employed, much of it made up on the spot. Little scraps of tunes got employed to underscore a scene, and would be brought back in different form when the time seemed right.

Throughout the screening, I kept the synthesizer on the basic orchestral texture I use for most films, except for a few key sections where a solo violin gets played, for which I switched to strings alone in an attempt to create an effective contrast.

What about the length? How did it affect my playing?

When I accompany a film, it takes about 10 or 15 minutes to enter what I call "the silent film zone." It's a state of mind where, if all goes well, my capacity for self-criticism subsides and the music comes freely for the duration of the film.

Once in this state, I often have no conception of the passing of time. 'The End' will come up on the screen, and I'll have no sense that I've been accompanying a film for 2½ hours. It seems like we just started!

So given this, what would happen over a much longer time? 'La Roue' was an opportunity to find out.

That's why I sat at the keyboard and continued to play during the two shorter internissions. I didn't want to break the spell, because sometimes when that happens, you don't get back to the same place you were before.

And I have to say, it wasn't tiring at all, either physically or mentally. It was a little daunting to sit down at noon to begin playing, knowing I'd be doing so well into the evening. But once the film kicked in, the clock stopped as it often does, and I was able to keep going and do justice to the film. 

Me speaking after the screening as the lengthy credits continued to roll. 

Was it easy? No. But it was easier than expected. Facing the longest film I'd ever attempted to score live all in one gulp, I discovered I could do it. In fact, I wouldn't mind doing it again. So I've started reaching out to venues to gauge interest in running 'La Roue' as a once-in-a-lifetime only-in-a-theater experience.

I'll travel anywhere to do it—even by train!

And if I'm in the mood for a real ground-breaking adventure, I'll clean the fridge.

And now...a train-related film of more normal length. Next up: Keaton's 'The General' (1926) on Thursday, Oct. 3 at 7 p.m. at the public library in Moultonborough, N.H. 

If you're in the state's Lakes Region getting in some leaf-peeping, stop by and peep at one of Buster's best. More info in the press release below.

*    *    *

Yes, another train-related film: a scene from Buster Keaton's 'The General' (1926).

MONDAY, SEPT. 16, 2024 / FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact: Jeff Rapsis • (603) 236-9237 • jeffrapsis@gmail.com

Buster Keaton's 'The General' with live music at Moultonborough Library on Thursday, Oct. 3

Civil War railroading comedy/adventure film lauded as stone-faced comic moviemaker's masterpiece

MOULTONBOROUGH, N.H.— He never smiled on camera, earning him the nickname of "the Great Stone Face." But Buster Keaton's comedies rocked Hollywood's silent era with laughter throughout the 1920s.

See for yourself with a screening of 'The General' (1926), one of Keaton's landmark feature films, on Thursday, Oct. 3 at 7 p.m. at the Moultonborough Public Library, 4 Holland St, Moultonborough, N.H.

The screening will feature live music for the movie by silent film accompanist Jeff Rapsis. The screening is free and open to the public; attendees are asked to register online at moultonboroughlibrary.org under the 'Events' area.

The show is intended to give Lakes Region movie-goers the opportunity to experience early cinema as it was intended: on the big screen, with live music, and with an audience.

'The General,' set during the U.S. Civil War, tells the story of a southern locomotive engineer (Keaton) whose engine (named 'The General') is hijacked by Northern spies with his girlfriend on board.

Keaton, commandeering another train, races north in pursuit behind enemy lines. Can he rescue his girl? And can he recapture his locomotive and make it back to warn of a coming Northern attack?

Critics call 'The General' Keaton's masterpiece, praising its authentic period detail, ambitious action and battle sequences, and its overall integration of story, drama, and comedy.

It's also regarded as one of Hollywood's great railroad films, with much of the action occurring on or around moving steam locomotives.

Buster Keaton and co-star in 'The General' (1927).

Accompanist Jeff Rapsis will improvise an original musical score for 'The General' live as the movie is shown, as was typically done during the silent film era.

"When the score gets made up on the spot, it creates a special energy that's an important part of the silent film experience," said Rapsis, who uses a digital synthesizer to recreate the texture of a full orchestra for the accompaniment.

With the Moultonborough Library's screening of 'The General,' audiences will get a chance to experience silent film as it was meant to be seen—in a high quality print, on a large screen, with live music, and with an audience.

"All those elements are important parts of the silent film experience," Rapsis said. "Recreate those conditions, and the classics of early Hollywood leap back to life in ways that can still move audiences today."

Keaton, along with Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, stands today as one of the silent screen's three great clowns. Some critics regard Keaton as the best of all; Roger Ebert wrote in 2002 that "in an extraordinary period from 1920 to 1929, (Keaton) worked without interruption on a series of films that make him, arguably, the greatest actor-director in the history of the movies."

A remarkable pantomime artist, Keaton naturally used his whole body to communicate emotions from sadness to surprise. And in an era with no post-production special effects, Keaton's acrobatic talents enabled him to perform all his own stunts.

Critics review 'The General':

"The most insistently moving picture ever made, its climax is the most stunning visual event ever arranged for a film comedy."
—Walter Kerr, author of 'The Silent Clowns'

"An almost perfect entertainment!"
—Dave Kehr, Chicago Reader

"What makes the film so special is the way the timing, audacity and elegant choreography of its sight gags, acrobatics, pratfalls and dramatic incidents is matched by Buster's directorial artistry, his acute observational skills working alongside the physical élan and sweet subtlety of his own performance."
—Time Out (London)

The Keaton films are a great introduction to silent films for modern audiences, accompanist Rapsis said.

"Keaton's comedy is as fresh today as it was a hundred years ago — maybe more so, because his kind of visual humor is a lost art," Rapsis said.

‘The General’ (1926) starring Buster Keaton will be shown with live music on Thursday, Oct. 3 at 7 p.m. at the Moultonborough Public Library, 4 Holland St, Moultonborough, N.H.

 

The screening is free and open to the public; attendees are asked to register online at moultonboroughlibrary.org under the 'Events' area. For more info, visit the website or call (603) 476-8895.

Going where few have gone: doing live music for all seven hours of Abel Gance's 'La Roue' (1923)

A scene from Abel Gance's epic drama 'La Roue' (1923).

The time has come, or is at least close upon us.

On Saturday, Sept. 28, starting at noon I'll attempt to create music for Able Gance's neglected masterwork 'La Roue' (1923)—all seven hours of it, all in one marathon screening.

The venue is the Brattle Theatre in Cambridge, Mass. Tickets are $25 per person for this immersive cinematic experience, which will run from noon to about 8:30 p.m. 

Lots more info in the press release pasted in below. And here's few notes prior to the event.

I don't know how this will unfold, but I'm eager to find out. Most of all, I'm looking forward to seeing where the music goes.

I find that in scoring silent films, it helps to have room to develop the musical material over time. Well, I'll have plenty of that for 'La Roue.' 

Also, I plan to play continuously during two of the intermissions scheduled for the screening, as I don't want to break out of the "silent film zone" I get into when working with a film.

And yes, playing music for seven hours is something of a stunt. 

But I've been working at the craft of creating live music for silent cinema for nearly 20 years, and I feel ready to tackle one of the largest cinematic mountains to climb, so to speak.

Why do it? The answer is the same as in mountaineering: Because it's there!

And I hope you'll be there as well as we attempt the summit one of silent cinema's highest peaks.

*    *    *

Silent film accompanist Jeff Rapsis will play music for Abel Gance's 'La Roue' on Saturday, Sept. 28.

TUESDAY, SEPT. 17, 2024 / FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact Jeff Rapsis • (603) 236-9237 • jeffrapsis@gmail.com

At the Brattle: Silent film musician to play for seven hours to accompany rarely seen masterwork

Abel Gance's immersive epic 'La Roue' (1923) to be screened on Saturday, Sept. 28 with three intermissions as part of 'Silent Movie Weekend'

CAMBRIDGE, Mass.—No sheet music will be at the keyboard when Jeff Rapsis sits down to accompany 'La Roue' (1923) on Saturday, Sept. 28 at the Brattle Theatre.

That's because he'll be improvising an original score for the rarely screened French silent masterwork—all seven hours of it.

Starting with the opening titles of 'La Roue' at noon, Rapsis will continually make up music on the spot until 'Fin' appears on screen at about 8:30 p.m.

"It's a different kind of Boston marathon," said Rapsis, a New Hampshire-based musician who specializes in live accompaniment of silent film screenings.

The screening is part of a 'Silent Movie Weekend' at the Brattle, which will screen vintage classics from Friday, Sept. 27 through Monday, Sept. 30.

The programming is the Brattle's extended salute to this year's 'Silent Movie Day,' which falls on Sunday, Sept. 29.

This year's tribute will be highlighted by a rare complete screening of 'La Roue,' a drama directed by visionary French filmmaker Abel Gance.

Admission is $25 per person for the all-day screening, which includes two intermissions plus a brief dinner break at the halfway point.

Through it all, Rapsis will create music intended to bring Gance's vision to life for modern audiences, a century after the film's Paris premiere.

"People are surprised to learn that it's possible to improvise a film score for a movie of any length, never mind one that's seven hours long," Rapsis said.

"But the extraordinary running time of 'La Roue' can allow the music to go places it usually doesn't," he said.

'La Roue' (French for 'the wheel') tells the story of Sisif, a railroad engineer who adopts an orphaned girl following a train accident.

The ensuing decades bring both joy and tragedy in a film that has been compared to a Dickens novel as the story evolves and action plays out over time.

Along the way, Gance filmed sequences in French locations ranging from the grimy railyards of Nice to the snow-covered slopes of Mont Blanc.

The lead role of Sisif, the railway engineer, is played by noted French actor Séverin-Mars, who died of a heart attack just after Gance finished principal photography.

"It's a movie that is by turns ambitious, ground-breaking, extravagant, self-indulgent, audacious, and revolutionary," Rapsis said.

Rapsis keeps alive the nearly lost art of live silent film accompaniment by performing at more than 100 screenings a year, many of them in Boston-area venues.

During the silent era, most movies did not have official scores. Instead, local theater musicians played anything they felt helped a film, often with little advance preparation. 

The music would differ from theater to theater, all over the nation and around the world. 

It was only later, after soundtracks were introduced, that directors began working with composers to create film scores as we know them today.

"Back then, live music was a big part of the movie-going experience—and it was made locally, just like the popcorn is today," Rapsis said.

Unlike musicians of the silent era, Rapsis uses a digital synthesizer to create music with the sound of a full orchestra.

"Depending on the mood and setting, I can call up really any kind of texture that I feel helps support the film on screen," Rapsis said.

In nearly 20 years of accompanying films, Rapsis has become familiar with titles most often requested: Buster Keaton comedies, thrillers starring Lon Chaney, and Biblical epics from Cecil B. DeMille.

"For most screenings, I don't prepare in advance other than perhaps running the film fast-forward to remind me of the overall story," Rapsis said. 

"For the most part, the music for each screening  is created right there in the theater—to support the film, but also in response to audience reaction."

Rapsis said an experienced accompanist supports the movie, but can also help modern audiences "read" a film from the silent era, when stories often unfolded visually and without dialogue. 

"Today's audiences may not be used to this. If done right, the music can indicate a shift in mood or tension to confirm that something significant has just happened on screen," Rapsis said.

There are also practical realities of accompaniment that can affect an audience's enjoyment of a film.

"For comedies, it's very important to play quietly at first, so that audience members can hear each other laughing," Rapsis said. 

"Hearing people laugh often triggers laughter in others, which can lead to a theater full of people roaring at a classic silent film comedy."

"But if the music is too loud, that spontaneous combustion of laughter can't happen," Rapsis said.

Rapsis will put his two decades of experience to work in accompanying 'La Roue.'

Although the music will be improvised, Rapsis is developing a few ideas in advance that he'll weave together to create the score.

"I plan to draw from this bank of material," Rapsis said. "But I find that if I spend too much time making elaborate plans or studying a film, it interferes with the music that comes to me in the moment, in the theater, when the film is on the screen."

"It's harder to forget about everything and get immersed in the film, which is when the best stuff tends to happen."

Other than that, he's undertaking no special preparations for the seven-hour screening, other than reviewing the story line and adding extra miles to his bicycle rides.

"I think I'm up for it, at least physically," he said. "If nothing else, I have endurance. I'm like the Jake LaMotta of silent film accompaniment—it may not be pretty, but I just keep on coming."

Rapsis admits that the process is "a bit of a high wire act," but says creating live music on the fly can add a distinctive element to the silent movie experience.

"With improvised live accompaniment, a certain energy and excitement comes through that's different from a score that's planned in advance, or recorded," he said. 

A scene from 'La Roue' (1923), directed by Abel Gance.

In making 'La Roue,' director Gance aimed to explore the limits of movie making, then a still-new art form.

Among Gance's on-screen innovations are complicated optical effects, rapid cutting during climactic sequences, and extended visual symbolism.

'La Roue' was Gance's last major project prior to starting work on 'Napoleon' (1927), which would turn out to be his magnum opus that would go on to overshadow his other work. This includes 'La Roue,' a film that was no less ambitious or accomplished, but which has been neglected in comparison.

Recently restored to Gance's original 1923 cut, the complete 'La Roue' clocks in at 6 hours and 52 minutes.

For the Brattle screening, 'La Roue' will be divided into two parts. Part 1 will include a brief intermission about halfway through. A dinner break will follow.

For Part 2, another intermission will occur about halfway through. The screening will conclude at about 8:30 p.m.

"It's a rare chance to see 'La Roue' the way Gance intended it to be experienced: in a theater, on the big screen, with live music, and with an audience," Rapsis said.

Abel Gance's silent masterwork 'La Roue' (1923) will be shown in its entirety with live music on Saturday, Sept. 28 starting at noon at the Brattle Theatre, 40 Brattle St., Cambridge, Mass.

Tickets are $25 per person; purchase online at www.brattlefilm.org or in person at the theater's box office. For more information, call (617) 876-6837.

A rare chance to see 'La Roue' with live music—all seven hours of it on Saturday, Sept. 28

A scene from Abel Gance's 'La Roue' (1923)

It's a different kind of Boston Marathon!

For New England movie fans, this month brings a rare chance to experience 'La Roue' (1923), a sprawling masterwork of early cinema from Abel Gance, who would go on to direct 'Napoleon' (1927).

On Saturday, Sept. 28, the Brattle Theatre in Cambridge, Mass. will present 'La Roue' as intended—on the big screen, with live music, in one day, and restored to its original running time of just under SEVEN hours. 

And yes, I intend to improvise a live score in real time for the entire picture—all 412 minutes of it.

I'm really looking forward to this. The sheer length of 'La Roue' may seem daunting, but as an accompanist I see it as an opportunity to immerse myself in the experience. I'm eager to see how the music evolves as the hours roll by.

I think I'm up for it, at least physically. If nothing else, I have endurance. I'm like the Jake LaMotta of silent film accompaniment: the results may not always be pretty, but I can just keep on coming.

A promotional poster for a later release of 'The Roue' (1923).

About the movie: 'La Roue' is French for "the wheel."—think of "roulette" as a "little wheel." The film tells the story of a railroad engineer who adopts an orphaned girl following a train accident. 

The ensuing decades bring both joy and tragedy in a film that is by turns ambitious, ground-breaking, extravagant, self-indulgent, audacious, and revolutionary. The action moves between the harsh world of the railway yard (filmed on location in Nice, France) and the rarified air of the French Alps (filmed on the slops of Mont Blanc.)

Recently restored to Gance's original 1923 cut, the complete 'La Roue' clocks in at an astonishing 412 minutes. 

Starting at noon on Saturday, Sept. 28, the Brattle will screen the movie in four parts with three intermissions, including a meal break half-way through, ending at 8:30 p.m. Tickets for the whole experience are $25 per person.

What place does La Roue hold in filmmaking history?

Check out this review of the film by critic Andre Soares when it was first released on DVD (in a four-hour version) in 2008:

“There is cinema before and after La Roue as there is painting before and after Picasso.”

That’s none other than Jean Cocteau, referring to the mammoth 1923 drama (original running time: nearly 8 hours) directed and written by Abel Gance – he of Napoleon.

Gance worked for three years on La Roue / The Wheel, which revolves around a locomotive engineer (Séverin-Mars, who died in 1921, two years before the film’s official release), his obsession with his adopted daughter (Ivy Close, mother of director Ronald Neame), and her (romantic) love for the engineer’s son (Gabriel de Gravone), who also happens to have fallen in love with her.

The director and his cinematographers (Gaston Brun, Marc Bujard, Léonce-Henri Burel, and Maurice Duverger) worked on all sorts of innovative cinematic experiments; as a result, the film’s technical virtuosity became a blueprint for numerous other productions. G.W. Pabst, for one, was encouraged by La Roue to begin his own explorations of human psychology in classics such as Pandora’s Box and Diary of a Lost Girl, while Akira Kurosawa once stated that “the first film that really impressed me was La Roue.”

Wow! So please join us for what is sure to be an unforgettable cinematic experience. Give yourself up to Gance's vision. Take this rare opportunity to truly immerse yourself in the world of 'La Roue.'

See you at the movies—and maybe the nearby Mount Auburn Hospital afterwards! 

Tickets and more info on the Brattle's website.

A scene from 'La Roue' (1923) directed by Abel Gance.
 

Today's French lesson courtesy Abel Gance: 'Roulette' = little wheel; 'La Roue' = BIG film

Proof that people really WILL turn out to see Abel Gance's 'La Roue' (1923). Well, a few, anyway.

Once in awhile I like to scale a mountain.

Sometimes it's an actual mountain, like Kilimanjaro in Africa, which I climbed in 2015.

Other times it's an aesthetic mountain, such as doing live music for Abel Gance's 'La Roue' (1923), a movie that runs about 4½ hours.

That's what I did this weekend, over two screenings on Saturday, April 27 and Sunday, April 28 at the Town Hall Theatre in Wilton, N.H.

That's a lot of film, and it's a lot of music. But it came together in a way that was very satisfying, I thought.

As you might imagine, a 4½-hour silent French drama didn't exactly sell out the house, especially when competing with a nice spring weekend in New Hampshire.

Still, just over a dozen brave souls took advantage of a rare chance to experience Gance's highly regarded drama the way it was intended to be shown — in a theater on the big screen, with live music, and with an audience.

What made it work for me was that I'd created a suite of inter-related musical ideas that were all based on four ascending notes in the minor scale: A, C, D, and E.

Played in sequence, and repeated and varied, they made for a great way to bring to life the many railroad-in-motion images that occur throughout Gance's film.

And the range of moods and emotions they can carry just on their own is quite wide, depending on how they're played and what kind of bass line or supporting harmony is applied.

Ivy Close and Séverin-Mars in 'La Roue.'

And when played all at once, they create a pungent chord (a minor triad with an extra note added in) that has just enough of a characteristic dissonance to hold its own as a motif. It sounds vaguely like a train whistle, too, which is a bonus.

Then I took the same four notes and they became the bass line of a yearning melody that was also present throughout. (Someday I'll get some fancy software to capture and post it here, but not today.)

And with just those elements, I had enough material to carry me along with the film on its long journey from the congested railroad yards of Nice to the high-altitude climax on the wide-open slopes of Mont Blanc.

I hadn't studied the film prior to the screening, which was by intent. I wanted to respond to the film musically the same way an audience would in seeing it for the first time. And 4½ hours is just too much to prepare in advance anyway.

A scene from 'La Roue' (1923).

This worked out well, for the most part. However, if I could do it again, I would be better prepared for moments such as when we see a character repeatedly blow a whistle. I would have done that as well.

Also, there are at least two dreamy dissolves to a medieval fantasy setting. Had I known that was coming, I would have transitioned to a plucked string or guitar texture to better underscore the proposition.

Finally, the professional of one of the characters is making violins, so I should have expected sequences in which a violin gets played. There indeed were, and for those to really work from a keyboard requires some real preparation and strategy, neither of which I had.

Still, it all held together really well. And there's so much room in a 4½-hour movie that you can't help but just come up with material that comes in handy.

For 'La Roue,' some rowdy tavern scenes early on gave birth to a rude melody with a lot of repeated notes that was catchy enough to keep re-appearing anytime excess of any kind was depicted onscreen.

And for the scenes between Norma and her violin-making pseudo-brother, a quiet waltz-like tune in 3/4 time just came naturally to my fingertips near the start, and continued to reappear at tender moments for the rest of the film.

So 'La Roue' turned out to be a grand adventure musically as well as cinematically. For the small group who attended both parts (and the few who say either just Part 1 or Part 2), I salute your willingness to take a chance on Gance.

Will I ever do 'La Roue' again? Well, I may circle around to it. Har!

Looking ahead: the pace of screenings picks up this month with summer series starting in Brandon, Vt.; Ogunquit, Maine, ad Somerville, Mass. I also have one-off shows at venues ranging from the Antrim (N.H.) Town Hall to the Niles Essanay Silent Film Museum in Niles, Calif.

Stay tuned for more details!

Thoughts on Able Gance's 'J'Accuse'; then off to the Kansas Silent Film Festival

February, a short month, has felt even more abbreviated this time around due to a packed calendar, a multitude of performances, a trip to London, way too much snow to shovel, and lots of other distractions.

And now I'm fighting a cold as I prepare to leave tomorrow for the Kansas Silent Film Festival, to be held on Friday & Saturday, Feb. 27-28 at Washburn University in Topeka, Kansas.

I'm reminded of the Chinese proverb that goes like this: 寧為太平犬，不做亂世人. I'm told it's translated as “Better to be a dog in a peaceful time than be a man in a chaotic period.”

All I can say is, "Woof, woof!"

But out of chaos can come extraordinary things. And into that category I must put a screening of 'J'Accuse' (1919) this past Sunday night at the Harvard Film Archive.

The film, a three-hour Able Gance epic, was part of the HFA's ongoing series exploring World War I as depicted in the movies.

I was thrilled to be asked to accompany 'J'Accuse,' a film I'd never done before. But the screening happened to be on the same day I was scheduled to return from London.

Was it wise to try accompanying a three-hour epic after just getting in from a trans-Atlantic flight? Do you think I even asked that question?

Programmer David Pendleton was a bit dubious about bringing me in under the circumstances. But let me do it, and I'm glad he did!

However, getting to the HFA on time became a worry when we became stuck for more than an hour on the tarmac at Heathrow in London due to a baggage issue.

Stuck on the tarmac at Heathrow's Terminal 5.

We arrived in Boston just before 3 p.m.—more than an hour late. To get back home to New Hampshire and get my digital keyboard, I had to make a 3:25 p.m. bus. Standing in a long slow-moving line for customs, I figured I'd missed my ride. So I was already mentally preparing to head over directly to Harvard and try my best using their acoustic piano.

But by some miracle, I made the bus, got home, loaded the synthesizer and gear, and then drove an hour back down to Boston, arriving at the HFA just as the prior screening was finishing up.

I don't know if this steeplechase-like journey was a contributing factor, but I felt the music I came up with for 'J'Accuse' was very satisfying and effective.

I used two basic themes: one new, but based on the same chord structure as 'When Johnny Comes Marching Home,' and another that I created last year for a screening of the Italian epic 'Cabiria' (1914).

Not having seen the film, I was surprised a few times by Gance's rapid cutting and unexpected transitions. But the film was easy to follow and everything came together quite well, I thought. There were some big moments and I think I caught most of them.

One handicap I was working under was that in London, I had caught a cold. And so on the flight home, my ears got all screwed up. When we landed in Boston, my ears did not get un-screwed up, and so it was difficult to hear what I was doing in full fidelity.

And it didn't help that somewhere in the middle of Part 1, we lost one of the output channels. Thankfully, projectionist John Quackenbush was able to restore the channel for the remainder of the film.

Able Gance (right) on location shooting 'J'Accuse.'

So could I have done a better job if I'd spent a lot of time preparing? Or if I hadn't been on an eight-hour flight? Maybe. But between you and me, I'm not really sure.

Sometimes circumstances conspire so that everything comes together in a certain way. In the case of 'J'Accuse,' the experience began way back in 1919, when Abel Gance made the film.

In contrast, my contribution was all at the last minute, and in real time and under less-than-optimum circumstances. Not only had I not seen the film, but was accompanying it after a long trans-Atlantic flight that same day.

So it was a unique combination of something made long ago and something being made right in the moment, never to be repeated exactly the same ever again.

And that's one of the things that I think will help the art form of silent film remain of interest: the films themselves may not change, but the music performed with them can differ every time.

Tomorrow morning it's off to my 16th consecutive annual visit to the Kansas Silent Film Festival, held each year at this time on the campus of Washburn University in Topeka, Kansas.

Just as February has gone by fast, I can't believe I've been present at this event for enough years now for a newborn to get a driver's license.

I return for many reasons, to the point where it's really become automatic. In February, some people in New England escape to Aruba. I escape to Topeka.

I'm really looking forward to this year's edition because Jon Mirsalis is being brought in as guest accompanist and speaker.

I admire Jon's scoring technique and always learn stuff when I get to hear him play live. What a treat to have him doing music for several features, including part of Griffith's 'Birth of a Nation' (1915) and 'The Seahawk' (1924).

Full report afterwards...and then it's on to a busy March: multitudes of screenings, a trip to Cinefest in Syracuse, N.Y., and probably lots more snow to shovel before this winter is over.

"Woof, woof!" indeed.