Making the annual pilgrimage to Kansas to commune with the best piano I play all year

The Steinway D concert grand piano on stage at White Concert Hall at Washburn University, Topeka, Kansas.

And the star of the show is...the piano!

Well, not entirely. Each year, the Kansas Silent Film Festival is worth experiencing for the films, and also the fine people who organize it and attend it, and the community that hosts it.

And this year was no exception. 

The 29th annual edition of the event featured a wide-ranging program of great movies accompanied by live music, strong audience response, plus special guest Melissa Talmadge Cox, granddaughter of Buster Keaton.

Melissa Talmadge Cox carrying a picture of her famous grandfather into the White Concert Hall at Washburn University, home of the Kansas Silent Film Festival.

(29 years! The Kansas festival has now been running longer than the silent film era it celebrates.)

But then there's that piano. 

The films may change from year to year, but one thing remains constant: the enormous Model D Steinway grand piano that lives on the stage of White Concert Hall at Topeka's Washburn University, where the festival takes place.

How else can I put it? It's the best piano I play all year. 

As you may know, not all pianos are the same—each carries its own special blend of sound, action, touch, and many other variables. Even with identical models from the same manufacturer, each will have a different personality.

For me, the D Model Steinway I've been privileged to play at Washburn University for nearly 20 years now is a dream to work with. It has weight and power, but also lightness of touch. It responds well to my at-times percussive style of playing, but can also make lyrical passages sound like a human voice.

It feels exactly right under my fingers. I can do things on it that I can't do on other pianos.

I remember once the festival brought in a well-known guest accompanist who had heard me play years before, when I was just starting out. In Kansas, he heard me play again, and afterwards congratulated me on doing a good job—wondering aloud if it was the instrument that made the difference. 

Frankly, it probably was! 

So why not get one for myself? The Steinway D is the firm's top-of-the-line concert grand piano, and currently retails for between $200,000 and $250,000. Should I start a crowd-funding campaign?

From the podium, host Denise Morrison snaps a photo of the audience at this year's Kansas Silent Film Festival.

Outside of Kansas, most of my film accompaniment work is done using a Korg digital keyboard, which has 88 keys but is small enough to be portable (just barely!), and enables me to score films with the texture of a full orchestra. The Korg boasts a weighted-action keyboard that has a nice feel to it, and is useful in calling up different settings just based on how "hard" I play. 

But it's totally unlike performing on a mighty all-acoustic Steinway, with the tangible physical connection between your fingers and the keys and the hammers and the strings. Nothing to plug in except the built-in humidity control system and the piano light. 

There's talk of the Kansas Silent Film Festival at long last taking place in the Jayhawk Theatre in downtown Topeka. If that ever happens, I sure hope they'll haul the Steinway over as a crucial part of the festival.

A still from 'The Toll Gate' (1920) with costars Anna Q. Nilsson and William S. Hart. In the "small world" department, Nilsson would much later be one of the "waxworks" silent-era stars playing poker in 'Sunset Boulevard' (1950).

Of the films I accompanied, 'The Toll Gate' (1920), a dark Western starring William S. Hart, was the most satisfying and came off the best, I thought. It's a strong film for music, with moments of intense emotion that music can augment very effectively, and action sequences that pair well with busy minor-key passages.

There's also something unusual in the film's structure. The first two-thirds of the movie is filled with men and guns and horses and everything else you'd associated with an outlaw in the Old West. But then, for the final third, we meet a woman and her young boy living alone in a remote cabin.

It's through them that the hard heart of William S. Hart begins to soften. And with that, a whole new type of music seemed called for: something more gentle and tender than anything that had come before.

What I came up with was a simple diatonic phrase built of six notes. With light accompaniment underneath, it sounded like the beginning of a Chopin Etude. Quite a contrast with all the musical drama that preceded it—but which made it stand out all the more.

As I worked through the last two reels, it became one of those times I savor as an accompanist: when you have good material to work with, and you're "ahead of the film" (meaning you have a strong sense of what's coming and what you want to do with it), and the right pieces are falling into place for it to all come together. 

Those in attendance seemed to enjoy the results. "Jeff Rapsis provided a hauntingly beautiful score," commented Bruce Calvert in his annual write-up of the festival's program, found online at the Nitrateville silent film site. Thanks, Bruce!

The busy lobby between screenings at this year's Kansas Silent Film Festival.

Next year will mark a significant milestone for the little Kansas festival that could: its 30th year!

I hope you'll join me in marking your calendar for Feb. 26 & 27, 2027—and joining me in Topeka when those dates roll around!

For now, thanks and congratulations to all the people who work all year around to make the Kansas Silent Film Festival a success. I remain grateful to all that this event has given me in the 27 years I've been attending—and not just the chance to play that piano! 

The amazing "bio-hazard" pattern carpeting used throughout the White Concert Hall at Washburn University, home of the Kansas Silent Film Festival. 

This weekend: Lois Weber Film Festival, Buster Keaton, and 'Underworld' plus notes from this year's Kansas Silent Film Festival

A lobby card promoting Joseph Von Sternberg's gangster flick 'Underworld' (1928).

Coming up this weekend: I'm accompanying two screenings in the Boston area, and then a pioneering gangster flick in New Hampshire.

Here's the lineup:  

• Saturday, March 8, 2025, 12 noon to 10 p.m.: 3rd Annual Lois Weber Film Festival, Capitol Theatre, 204 Massachusetts Ave., Arlington, Mass. Scheduled to be shown as part of the two-hour opening ceremony starting at noon: "Hypocrites" (1915) directed by Lois Weber. Admission charges vary by segment; open ceremony is free, with donation of $15 per person suggested. For updates and more info, check out the festival's website at loisweberfilmfestival.org.

• Saturday, March 8, 2025, 7 p.m. "Seven Chances" (1925) starring Buster Keaton. Buster is about to be saved from bankruptcy by an unexpected inheritance of $7 million—but only if he gets married by 7 p.m. that very day. One of Keaton's best comedies, climaxed by one of the great chase scenes in all film, silent or otherwise. Silent film with live music on a Wurlitzer theater organ at the Stoneham Town Hall Auditorium, 35 Central St., Stoneham, Mass. Admission $8 per person.

• Sunday, March 9, 2025, 2 p.m.: "Underworld" (1928) starring George Bancroft, directed by Josef von Sternberg; Wilton Town Hall Theatre, Main Street, Wilton, N.H.; (603) 654-3456. Director Josef von Sternberg's groundbreaking tale of big city mobsters, widely considered the father of all gangster pictures. Tale follows crime boss "Bull" Weed (George Bancroft) as he battles rival 1920s gangsters. Incredible black-and-white photography; winner of first-ever Oscar for original story by Ben Hecht. Silent film with live music at a theater where movies have been shown since 1912. Admission free, donations of $10 per person encouraged. 

More info about the 'Seven Chances' and 'Underworld' screenings will be pasted in below, as I've sent out press releases for both. 

But for now, a few notes on attending the most recent Kansas Silent Film Festival, which took place on Friday, Feb. 28 and Saturday, March 1 at Washburn University in Topeka, Kansas.

This was the 26th consecutive year I've attended the Kansas festival, going back to my first time in 2000 and including the off-year of 2021, when it was cancelled due to the pandemic so we held our own home-brewed version in New Hampshire. 

I was asked to play for a relatively small number of films: just two short comedies and one light-hearted feature, 'Something New' (1920) starring Nell Shipman. The upside of that was getting to hear all the great accompanists brought in for this year's program, including Ben Model, Rodney Sauer and the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra, plus local stalwarts Marvin Faulwell, Bob Keckeisen, and Bill Beningfield.

Of the eight feature films shown during the festival, five were titles I'd never seen before. And this was after accompanying films for nearly 20 years now, so it shows how much material is out there to be discovered. 

Of those I haven't seen before, I'm most eager to program 'The Johnstown Flood' (1926) at one of my local screenings. The one feature I accompanied, 'Something New,' was essentially an hour-long commercial for the 1919 Maxwell automobile. 

While it got a good reaction, I can't see much interest in programming it unless I do a silent film for a vintage auto group—or for a Jack Benny fan club.

Jack Benny and his 1923 Maxwell touring car.

The proportion of films that were new to me was surprisingly high, as the Kansas festival has in the past focused on mainstream or well-known audience crowd-pleasers from the silent era. 

What makes it all worthwhile, I think, is that the screenings are all free and open to the public, and the audience is not all hardcore film buffs. Instead, they get a good cross-section of the general public—similar to the audience that these films were intended for. 

So it's one of the few places I know of where the silent-movie-going experience is recreated as it was 100 years ago, when these films first played in theaters.

Another reason to go was to perform what I call my 'Ritual of Creative Renewal,' which involves the solemn consumption of fried pickle spears at the Hanover Pancake House early on Saturday morning during the festival. 

The Hanover Pancake House anchors the south end of Topeka's downtown.

A plate of breaded fried pickle spears, served with ranch dressing.

This is a little hard to explain, but I've done this every single year since I first attended the Kansas Silent Film Festival in 2000. 

For me it's come to embody an acknowledgement that life remains full of possibilities. I will outline why in more detail in future writings about my silent film adventures—a project that's currently underway. 

For now, thanks to all the great folks in and around Topeka who labor all year round to make this festival happen. It's a wonderful community of people that I'm honored to be a part of. Only 359 days until next time!

And now, press releases for two upcoming screenings: 'Seven Chances' on Saturday, March 8 (accompanied by one of New England's few remaining Wurlitzer theatre organs!) and 'Underworld on Sunday, March 9. See you at the movies!

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Buster Keaton and a church full of would-be brides in 'Seven Chances' (1925.)

MONDAY, FEB. 17, 2025 / FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact Jeff Rapsis • (603) 236-9237 • jeffrapsis@gmail.com

Buster Keaton comedy 'Seven Chances' (1925) on Saturday, March 8 at Stoneham Town Hall

Silent film presentation with live music features classic race-to-the-finish romantic farce

STONEHAM, Mass.—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.

See for yourself with a screening of 'Seven Chances' (1925), one of Keaton's landmark feature films, on Saturday, March 8 at 7 p.m. at Stoneham Town Hall Auditorium, 35 Central St., Stoneham, Mass. 

Admission to this family-friendly event is $8 per person; $5 for members of the Stoneham Community Action Network.

Live music for the screening will be provided on the town's Wurlitzer theatre organ by silent film accompanist Jeff Rapsis.

Adapted from a stage play, 'Seven Chances' finds Buster learning that he'll inherit $7 million if he's married by 7 p.m. on his 27th birthday—that very day!

Buster's hurried attempts to tie the knot on his own go awry. But then a newspaper story changes the game, creating an avalanche of would-be brides who relentlessly pursue Buster as he searches for his one true love before the deadline.

'Seven Chances' was the first screen adaptation of the now-familiar story, since used in movies ranging from the Three Stooges in 'Brideless Groom' (1947) to Gary Sinyor's 'The Bachelor' (1999), a romantic comedy starring Chris O'Donnell and Renee Zellwinger.

The program will also include a Keaton short comedy, 'The Goat' (1921).

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, including some spectacular examples in 'Seven Chances.'

In reviving Keaton's 'Seven Chances,' organizers aim to show silent film as it was meant to be seen—in restored prints, on a large screen, with live music, and with an audience.

"All those elements are important parts of the silent film experience," said Rapsis, who will accompany the film. "Recreate those conditions, and classics of early Hollywood such as 'Seven Chances' leap back to life in ways that audiences still find entertaining."

Similar to theatre organists from the silent film era, Rapsis improvises the complete score in real time during the screening.

"Creating a movie score on the fly is kind of a high-wire act, but it can often make for more excitement than if everything is planned out in advance," Rapsis said.

Organized by the Stoneham Community Action Network, the screening is sponsored by the Stoneham Cultural Council and the Massachusetts Cultural Council.

Buster Keaton's 'Seven Chances' (1925) will be screened with live music on Saturday, March 8 at 7 p.m. at Stoneham Town Hall Auditorium, 35 Central St., Stoneham, Mass. 

Admission $8 per person; $5 for Stoneham Community Action Network members. Tickets available at the door.

*    *    *

Evelyn Brent and Clive Brook in a scene from 'Underworld' (1928).

MONDAY, FEB. 17, 2025 / FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact Jeff Rapsis • (603) 236-9237 • jeffrapsis@gmail.com

'Underworld' to screen with live music at Town Hall Theatre on Sunday, March 9

Oscar-winning silent crime drama directed by Josef von Sternberg was forerunner of Hollywood 'gangster' movies

WILTON, N.H.—'Underworld' (1927), a silent drama that spurred a boom in 'gangster' movies, will be screened with live music on Sunday, March 9 at 2 p.m. at the Town Hall Theatre, 40 Main St., Wilton, N.H.

Admission is free; donations are accepted, with $10 per person suggested to defray expenses.

The film will be accompanied live by silent film musician Jeff Rapsis.

'Underworld,' directed by Josef von Sternberg and starring George Bancroft, is notable for being the first major motion picture to portray a criminal in a sympathetic light instead of as a villain. Its popularity touched off a Prohibition-era boom in Hollywood gangster pictures that reached its peak following the stock market crash of 1929.

The story of 'Underworld' follows gangster Bull Weed (George Bancroft), who becomes entangled in a love triangle involving a reformed drunkard, “Rolls Royce” (Clive Brook) whom he takes on as his right-hand man, and Bull’s girlfriend “Feathers” (Evelyn Brent). Bull Weed's imprisonment leads to a dramatic climax.

Bancroft's performance in 'Underworld' set the stage for memorable characterizations of gangster protagonists by Jimmy Cagney ('Public Enemy,' 1931), Paul Muni ('Scarface,' 1932), and Edward G. Robinson ('Little Caesar,' 1930), which all follow directly on from the model created by 'Underworld.'

The film's script, by Chicago newspaperman Ben Hecht, earned an Oscar for Best Screenwriting at the first-ever Academy Awards. The film is also noted for director von Sternberg's innovative use of black-and-white photography, which presaged many film noir techniques in following decades.

Director Von Sternberg was obsessed by light, and developed methods of “painting” his compositions with the arrangements of lamps, scrims, and reflectors on the set. Today he is remembered most for having used that skill in a series of films he made with Marlene Dietrich, starting with 'The Blue Angel' (1930) and continuing in six more star vehicles made in Hollywood, including 'Morocco' (1930) and 'Shanghai Express' (1932).

'Underworld' will be accompanied by live music by Jeff Rapsis, a New Hampshire-based silent film accompanist who performs at venues across the region and beyond.

Using a digital synthesizer to reproduce the texture of the full orchestra, Rapsis will improvise the score on the spot during the screening.

"Films such as 'Underworld' were created to be shown on the big screen and in a theater as a shared experience," Rapsis said. "With an audience and live music, they still come to life in the way their makers intended them to.

"So silent film screenings at the Town Hall Theatre are a great chance for people to experience films that caused people to first fall in love with the movies," he said.

'Underworld' (1927) will be shown on Sunday, March 9 at 2 p.m. at the Town Hall Theatre, 40 Main St., Wilton, N.H. 

Admission is free; donations are accepted, with $10 per person suggested to defray expenses. For more information, call the theater at (603) 654-3456.

 

Thoughts on how we all need a Topeka, plus 'Why Worry?' in Wilton, N.H. on Sunday, 3/3

Harold Lloyd has big shoes to fill in 'Why Worry?' (1923).

Today's headlines getting you down? Then see a film from yesterday called 'Why Worry?' (1923), which I'm accompanying on Sunday, March 3 at 2 p.m. at the Town Hall Theatre in Wilton, N.H.

Lots more info about this Harold Lloyd comedy in the press release pasted in below. With silent film, the audience is an important part of the show, so hope to see you there!

For now, here's a report from this year's Kansas Silent Film Festival, which took place on Friday, Feb. 23 and Saturday, Feb. 24 on the campus of Washburn University in Topeka, Kansas. 

This was the 25th consecutive year I've attended this festival, which includes the pandemic year of 2021 when I staged my own version of it, "The Kansas Silent Film Festival in New Hampshire." 

Why have I done this for so many years? Well, besides the films and the people, I think it represents hope and renewed possibilities, at least on a personal level.

Setting up: Larry Stendebach and Brian Sanders hang the banner on the White Concert Hall.

I first attended it quite by random in the year 2000, just prior to co-founding a successful publishing business that's been a big part of my life ever. Something about the accidental nature of it all triggered something in me to move ahead with all this.

And not long afterwards, the Kansas festival prompted me to embark on my own silent film journey—one that's involved creating music for silent film screenings for nearly 20 years now. 

For a lot of us, our life path involves finding our own way to what we become. And for some of us, the path has to include random detours to make it uniquely our own. 

It's one thing to follow a good example and learn from the paths that others have taken, to stand on the shoulders of those who came before you. But it's such a human thing to want to explore and find your own way—to pioneer, to discover, to learn and experience for yourself.

So returning to Topeka once a year in late February has become something of a pilgrimage for me, with its own interior rituals such as fried pickles on Saturday morning at the Hanover Pancake House—itself a symbol of renewal, having risen from the rubble of the F5 tornado that roared through town in June 1966.

(Interesting fact: a local TV reporter in Topeka at the time the tornado hit is credited with saving lives by sternly warning viewers, "For God's sake, take cover!" The reporter was a young Bill Kurtis, today the announcer for NPR's 'Wait Wait, Don't Tell Me.')

And for me, Topeka has become a sort of Midwest version of Brigadoon: a distant community conjured out of the mist just once a year, a place where like-minded people gather to celebrate something most people don't understand or appreciate—and a place where I can pause and ponder what I've done, and what I can still do, to be the best version of myself. 

We all need a Topeka. In my case, it actually happens to be Topeka.

Well.

For a comprehensive round-up of this year's films, I point you to a wonderfully detailed write-up by longtime attendee Bruce Calvert of Texas. 

Accompanist Ben Model provides music for 'Mabel's Blunder' (1914), a short Keystone comedy.

For me, among the highlights was getting to hear other accompanists do their stuff for a wide range of films, and with large and appreciative audiences. 

A special treat was to finally meet and hear Donald Sosin, one of the big names in the field, who was making his first appearance in Kansas.

I had the privilege of chauffeuring Donald to the Kansas City Airport (at 5 a.m.!), and we got chatting about a wide range of topics. I was surprised to find Donald was in the audience for my stuff, and he shared some useful observations.

And then just like that, it was over—until next year. 

But until then, I'll continue with my own little circus, including Harold Lloyd's comedy 'Why Worry?' on Sunday, March 3 at the Town Hall Theatre in Wilton.

More info below!

*   *   *

A vintage lobby card promoting Harold Lloyd's comedy 'Why Worry?' (1923).

 

TUESDAY, FEB. 20, 2024 / FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact Jeff Rapsis • (603) 236-9237 • jeffrapsis@gmail.com

Silent comedy 'Why Worry?' with live music at Town Hall Theatre on Sunday, March 3

Harold Lloyd finds himself caught up in south-of-the-border revolutionary hilarity in inventive 1920s farce

WILTON, N.H.— He was the bespectacled young man next door whose road to success was often plagued by perilous detours.

He was Harold Lloyd, whose fast-paced comedies made him the most popular movie star of Hollywood's silent film era.

See for yourself why Lloyd was the top box office attraction of the 1920s in a revival of 'Why Worry?' (1923), one of his top-grossing comedies.

'Why Worry?' will be screened with live music on Sunday, March 3, 2024 at 2 p.m. at the Town Hall Theatre, 40 Main St., Wilton, N.H.

The screening was originally scheduled for Sunday, Feb. 18, but was moved to Sunday, March 3 due to a scheduling conflict.

Admission is free; donations are accepted, with $10 per person suggested to defray expenses.

The screening, the latest in the venue's silent film series, will feature live accompaniment by Jeff Rapsis, a New Hampshire-based composer who specializes in creating music for silent films.

Lloyd's go-getter character proved immensely popular throughout the 1920s, with fans following him from one adventure to the next.

Lloyd searches for footwear in 'Why Worry?' (1923).
 

In the political satire 'Why Worry?', Harold plays a wealthy hypochondriac traveling abroad who gets caught up in a local uprising.

Thrown into prison, Harold is forced to use his wits to escape and rescue his nurse from the clutches of a dangerous revolutionary leader.

Regarded as one of Lloyd's most surreal movies, 'Why Worry?' features a cast that includes an actual real-life giant—8-foot-tall John Aasen, discovered in Minnesota during a national talent search.

Rapsis will improvise a musical score for 'Why Worry?' as the film screens. In creating accompaniment for the Lloyd movies and other vintage classics, Rapsis tries to bridge the gap between silent film and modern audiences.

"Creating the music on the spot is a bit of a high-wire act, but it contributes a level of energy that's really crucial to the silent film experience," Rapsis said.

'Why Worry?' (1923) will be screened with live music on Sunday, March 3, 2024 at 2 p.m. at the Town Hall Theatre, 40 Main St., Wilton, N.H.

Admission is free; donations are accepted, with $10 per person suggested to defray expenses. For more information, call the theater at (603) 654-3456.

About this year's Kansas Silent Film Festival: Give me more, please!

Denise Morrison at the podium during this year's Kansas Silent Film Festival, held Friday, Feb. 24 and Saturday, Feb. 25 at Washburn University in Topeka, Kansas.

Is it just me, or is the Kansas Silent Film Festival each time going by faster and faster?

Really—in recent years, it seems like things have just barely gotten started when the musicians get called up for the final end-of-show bows.

It didn't used to be that way. When I began attending the Kansas festival (on a whim back in 2000, and every year ever since), the event was confined to Saturdays only. But with one movie after another, the day seemed to stretch to infinity. 

Now it's two days (and last year was three!), but it still seems to zip by at a more rapid pace every time I head out to Topeka.

My theory about this: it has to do with how we perceive time as time itself goes by. 

As an example: remember those long endless summer days when you were a kid? Now, it seems we're no sooner done with Memorial Day when the Fourth of July whizzes past, and wait—there goes Labor Day, and it's over.

What happened? You got older, which changes your perception of time. When you were young, a single summer was a good percentage of your entire life experience. Now, many years later, a single summer is just one of many you've lived through, and proportionally a much smaller part of your overall life experience.

Familiarity may or may not breed contempt. But certainly breeds acceleration. 

In the same way, attending the Kansas Silent Festival two dozen times in a row means each time is proportionately a smaller part of the whole. And I think as the iterations accumulate, it has an effect on how each additional one is experienced.

And by and large, it seems to speed it up, even if the elapsed time is the same as always. A similar thing happens on a smaller scale when you drive somewhere new. Doesn't the drive home often seem shorter? 

Well, all of this is kind of a backhanded way of giving the Kansas Silent Film Festival a compliment. What I'm saying is, "It's over too fast. I wish there was more!"

And isn't it one of the eternal truths of show business to always leave them wanting more?

And so it is with me. I want more films with live accompaniment by the likes of Ben Model and Marvin Faulwell and Rodney Sauer and Bill Beningfield.

I want to play the White Concert Hall's gorgeous Steinway D concert grand (the best piano I play all year) more, especially as a long feature film unfolds on the big screen and I have time to develop and really work with material. 

I want to do more last-minute collaborations with percussionist Bob Keckeisen such as what we did this year with Douglas MacLean's 'Bell Boy 13,' working a sprightly tune with dingy bell punctuation into the score.

I want more ridiculously friendly Kansas hospitality. I want more breaded fried pickle spears at the Hanover Pancake House. (This year's serving is at right.) I want to browse local real estate listings and laugh at the inexpensive housing. (Compared to New England.) I want to buy more ties at Topeka's many fine thrift stores.

I want to sit in the dark and lose myself in films I've never seen before. (Even after nearly a quarter century — almost as long as the silent era itself — they always program titles I've not seen before.) I want to hear the big audience reaction, such a rare thing to behold these days but an essential element of the silent film experience.

I want to spend more time with the festival volunteers—people I see online all the time, but I actually see just once a year. 

I want to hog the attention of festival guests such as this year's Lara Gabrielle (at left), author of the recently published 'Captain of Her Soul: The Life of Marion Davies,' which I am now devouring. It's a terrific book.

In this last case, I may get my wish, as Lara is open to coming out to New England for screenings/book signings if we can arrange it. Stay tuned! 

I also want more time to take photos. This time, I managed to only get a handful, in between watching films and chatting with people out front and at the cinema dinner and running on-stage to pound the horse teeth for yet another short comedy or drama. 

It's a good thing that several volunteers never fail to take a huge number of images during the festival. They'll get edited and posted pretty soon at the festival's Web site: http://www.kssilentfilmfest.org/

Am I being selfish to just want more, more, more? (Or just sounding like Daffy Duck?)

Well—lucky for me, and for all of us, they've already set the dates for the next one. Mark your calendars for Friday, Feb. 23 and Saturday, Feb. 24, 2024. Only 361 days to go!

Seriously: thanks to everyone at the Kansas Silent Film Festival for making me, a once-a-year blow-in, feel like part of the family. 

There are just too many to name without the risk of leaving someone out. I thank you all for a creating a brief but important ritual that has become a mainstay of my annual calendar.

Which brings us back to where we started: at the end. I've come to think it's unfair, kind of, that only the musicians get to take a bow at the festival's conclusion. 

The dozens and dozens of people who work all year to make this festival possible should all take a bow, too. 

I know that would add time to the festival...but with it flying by so fast, that would suit me just fine!

And in a final nod to time flying, how about something unexpected? I discovered that the Hanover Pancake House had just taken on board its first-ever robotic server. Check out the video:

From the Kansas Silent Film Festival to gigs at Harvard University, Cinema Ritrovato, and beyond

The Carpenter Center at Harvard University, where I accompanied 'Man With a Movie Camera' (1928) in the basement lecture hall/theater.

Well, at the risk of jinxing it all for us, I'm ready to declare the pandemic officially over.

Why? Because in recent weeks, I've received requests to accompany silent films in the last two places that had suspended activities starting in March 2020, and only now are they resuming.

So this past Tuesday, I went down to the Harvard Film Archive for the first time in four years to do music—in this case for a class screening of Dziga Vertov's 'Man With a Movie Camera' (1928).

And in early March, I'll return to the University of New Hampshire for the first time since the pandemic. On Tuesday, March 7, I'll do music for a film class screening of 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari' (1920) at the UNH-Manchester campus (where I used to teach).

And in late March (the date isn't yet set), I'll accompany silent films at the university's main campus in Durham, N.H. for the annual appearance of the travelling 'Cinema Ritrovato' festival of restored films.

In retrospect, the pandemic caused only about four months of total inactivity before a few venues began showing film again in the summer of 2020. 

Since then, it's a been a long, slow climb to back to normal, with some new places being added to the roster along the way, including Epsilon Spires in Brattleboro, Vt., the Jane Pickens Theatre in Newport, R.I., and the Greenfield Garden Cinema in Greenfield, Mass.

And then there are long-established traditions, including the annual Kansas Silent Film Festival, the latest edition of which starts...tomorrow! Yes, the 2023 version takes place on Friday, Feb. 24 and Saturday, Feb. 25 at Washburn University in Topeka.

I've attended every Kansas festival since 2000, making this my 24th year in a row.  What keeps me coming back are the people (both with the festival and the general public), the chance to see big films with big audiences, and also the chance to hear some of the best silent film accompanists in the business do their stuff.

It was attending this festival back at the turn of the century that first pointed me in the direction of accompanying silent films. I'll never forget hearing the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra for the first time there, doing music for Keaton's 'The Cameraman' (1928) and for 'Peter Pan' (1924).

Continued attendance in Kansas was one reason I began accompanying films myself in 2006, and which I found was something I could do. (Some people go to Aruba in February. I go to Topeka.) 

The basement lecture hall for Harvard University's Carpenter Center, which doubles as the screening room for the Harvard Film Archive, where I accompanied 'Man With A Movie Camera' (1928) last Tuesday evening.

Today, I do music for about 120 silent film screenings per year, in places ranging from junior high school all-purpose rooms to Harvard University.  Accompanying films, and creating music to help keep silent-era films before the public, has become a big thing for me. It's my primary creative outlet, other than stilt-walking. (Just kidding. There's nothing creative about stilt-walking. It's all data processing.)

So it's always a pleasure to head out to Kansas each February, as I feel it's like returning to my roots, at least in terms of music and film. As someone who once had aspirations to pursue a career in music (which I didn't), I'm grateful for how the Kansas festival showed me a way to bring out the music I had in me after all.

I'll be thinking of that as I once again make my way to the Sunflower State and a weekend of silent film and live music. Hope to see you there!

Me at the keyboard in Kansas—not in Topeka, but at the Keaton Festival in Iola, Kansas. Photo by  Steve Friedman.

Neither snow, nor kidney stones, nor talking cars, kept me from the 2022 Kansas Silent Film Festival

After more than two decades, I remain a big fan of the "biohazard" pattern of the carpeting in the White Concert Hall at Washburn University.

This year's Kansas Silent Film Festival was memorable in part for a few things I hope to soon forget.

For me, it was two things in particular: a pair of kidney stones, which made their unexpected presence known the day before I planned to depart for Kansas.

The announcement came in the form of intense pain coming from the lower right part of my abdomen. Ouch!

I thought it was my appendix. Whatever it was, the pain quickly grew to where I just wanted it to stop.

So instead of heading for the airport to fly out to Kansas, I went to the emergency room. Tests and a scan revealed the culprits: two stones making their way from kidney to bladder.

In no condition to travel, I reached out to festival director Bill Shaffer and let him know I'd be unable to make it this year.

Although really disappointed in myself for not being able to honor a commitment, I knew that the other accompanists there could cover the films I'd been assigned.

It wouldn't be the first time this happened—in 2013, members of the Mont Alto group made it only about half way across Kansas before a blizzard forced them to turn back to their Colorado home.

So the rest of us divvied up their films and the festival went on as scheduled.

How is this possible at the last minute? Well, live film accompaniment encompasses a lot of approaches, and that includes the “I hadn't planned on playing for this title but I'll give it a go” school of music.

At this year's Kansas festival, I knew that my fellow accompanist Ben Model would be on hand. (He'd bring both his hands, actually. Har!) I was hoping Ben would be willing to cover for me, and was glad to hear that he would. 

Accompanists Marvin Faulwell, Bill Beningfield, and Ben Model at the console of the White Concert Hall's organ.

The festival is blessed with other musicians who would fill in as well: longtime music director and organist Marvin Faulwell and his sidekick, percussionist Bob Keckeisen; organist Bill Beningfield; and Rodney Sauer, director of the Mont Alto Motion Picture Orchestra.

So I stayed home that Thursday, dosed with Toredal to numb the pain, and also ameliorate the unhappiness of missing my first Kansas Silent Film Festival since first attending in 2000.

But then Thursday turned into Friday, and I felt much better. The pain was gone. It snowed all day in New Hampshire, making travel difficult. But by late afternoon I felt well enough to make a break for it. Turned out Southwest Airlines was still running flights out of Manchester, and I could get the last out of the day (to Chicago Midway, connecting to Kansas City) at 6:30 p.m.

That would put me in Topeka really late Friday night, but at least I'd be on hand for the whole day Saturday, when the bulk of my films (and the one feature) were scheduled to screen.

Proud of myself for making the effort, we were about a half-hour from landing at Midway when the pain happened again. It put me on the floor of an airport gate area, pretending to stretch but actually trying to find a position to lessen the agony.

Here I was, 800 miles from home and writhing in pain. I'd taken the opioid they'd given me in case the pain came back, but it didn't seem to be working. What to do? There was a flight back to Manchester at a nearby gate, so I went over to find that boarding had completed and the plane was already pushing back.

I was close to calling my in-laws (who live in Chicago) to get me to an emergency room (no way was I paying for an ambulance—that would cause a different and more lasting kind of pain) when the boarding announcement was made for the Kansas City flight.

Rising up, I felt a little better, so decided to board. (What I would do when I got there, I had no idea.) Once seated, the pain returned with a vengeance. A song lyric started going through my mind: "Should I stay or should I go?"

I finally just had to get up, as sitting was intolerable, and made my way to the rear of the plane. I explained what was going on to two flight attendants, who could not have been more sympathetic. They said we had about a half-hour before departure, so a decision didn't have to be made right away.

They let me walk up and down the aisle, which helped, although I'm sure my fellow passengers concluded they were flying to Kansas City with a lunatic. Even the captain got involved, wanting to know what drugs I'd taken and making sure I wasn't an in-flight medical liability, which of course is his job. (I passed—although the kidney stones hadn't.)

Finally it came time to leave, and I chose to tough it out. Once the door closed, there was no turning back. "Prepare to build some character," I thought to myself, as we pushed back from the gate. At least I was next to an empty seat, enabling me to writhe and contort myself within the limits of a seat belt.

How long would this last? Well, I guess the opioid finally kicked in, as the pain began to lessen during the flight. By the time we landed it had mostly subsided. Maybe I would make it after all. 

But what would I do when I got there? What if this happened during a film? Well, we'd find out.

As I sat on the bus to the rental car center, I contemplated one remaining challenge: it was after midnight, and I still had to drive an hour to Topeka, opioids and all.

And then I dodged a bullet. It was so late that all the rental car desks were shut except one: Avis—by some stroke of divine magic, the company I'd booked with. They gave me a brand new (less than 300 miles) Kia Soul, which was equipped with nanny software that bings at you if it doesn't like how you change lanes.

"Consider taking a break!" read a dashboard display panel, with a coffee cup icon complete with little heat lines rising above it.

"Mind your own business," I responded, looking for the switch to disable this annoying feature.

Bing bing bing! "32 degrees! Watch for ice ahead!" said the display, which included pictures of snowflakes falling.  

"Stop hounding me!," I shot back. "How do I turn you off?"

My ride. I never did figure out how to turn off the nanny function.

I got on the Kansas Turnpike (I-70) and headed west to Topeka, being extra careful to keep at the speed limit. The last thing the Kansas Silent Film Festival needed was a headline like:

VISITING MUSICIAN JAILED FOR OPIOID POSSESSION AND YELLING AT CAR

Why am I telling you all this? Maybe it's a window into the ups and downs of the glamorous life of a silent film accompanist. Maybe it'll prompt you to take better care of yourself: drink more water, don't lapse into winter inactivity, and cut down on the cheese!

But I made it, and by the time I pulled into the parking lot of the Hyatt in Topeka, the pain was gone. For now. That's the thing. I'd had two episodes of intense pain. When might it happen again?

Next thing I knew, it was the next morning and I was downstairs at breakfast chatting with Rodney Sauer of Mont Alto and greeting all the familiar folks who are such a huge part of why even malfunctioning kidneys can't keep me from coming back to this festival.

And I found that I my problems were minor indeed when compared to what others had faced or were facing. 

Like how? Rodney's house in Colorado just missed being burned to the ground last year in a wildfire. (A cellist he knows lost everything.) Long-time festival supporter Paul Post had been severely injured in a bicycle accident earlier that week and was hospitalized. (He continues to recover.) Festival attendee Jim Reid made it all the way up from Texas (in an ice storm) only to slip on the hotel walkway, landing on his face. (He seemed to be doing okay.)

So Saturday's festival activities started up, and I was able to get through each film I'd been assigned. Ben Model later mentioned the syndrome of how the body seems to somehow postpone problems during a performance, and I've found that to be true. 

 

From Oscar Micheaux's drama 'Within Our Gates' (1920).

My big film was the one feature I'd been assigned: The Oscar Micheaux drama 'Within Our Gates' (1921), a 90-minute drama that closed the afternoon program. I asked Ben to stand by, or at least be in the hall somewhere, during this screening in case I wasn't able to get through it.

But the film started, and I pressed a big "C" in four octaves on the White Concert Hall's wonderful Steinway grand, and off we went. Before long, I'd become completely engaged—it's actually a tough film to score and requires concentration to bring it off.

Because of that, I completely forgot that less than 24 hours ago I was face down on the carpeted floor of a gate area in Chicago. Another example of how silent film can transport a viewer to an alternate (and pain-free) state of mind.

(For an excellent essay on 'Within Our Gates,' check out this piece by Shari Kizirian from the San Francisco Silent Film Festival.)

Well—if you'd like a run-down of this year's Kansas Silent Film Festival, attendee and adviser Bruce Calvert always posts a write-up of what screened. It's posted on Nitrateville and I encourage you to check it out.

Many thanks to festival director Bill Shaffer for putting up with my last-minute plan changes. We joke that at the Kansas Silent Film Festival, sometimes there's more drama off-screen than on.

And thanks to everyone at the festival for their kind comments and wishes of good health—too many folks to mention by name for fear of leaving someone out, but all very much appreciated.

As Stan says to Ollie in 'Blockheads' (1938): I'm better now. Truth is, although my two stones are still "in transit," I haven't had any more severe attacks since this year's visit to Topeka.

So we can add that to the many reasons the Kansas Silent Film Festival is worth attending: "Known to Reduce Kidney Stone Pain."

Now—if only I could have gotten that car to shut up.

Not in Kansas anymore, at least this one time: the Kansas Silent Film Festival in New Hampshire

Last Sunday afternoon at the Town Hall Theatre in Wilton, N.H., prior to the silent 'The Wizard of Oz' (1925). Photo by Karl Mischler.

Like Dorothy, we weren't in Kansas. But instead of a cyclone, it was a pandemic that transported to another realm—in this case, not Oz but New Hampshire.

Still, last weekend we managed to conjure up a respectable version of the Kansas Silent Film Festival out here in the far-away Granite State, complete with hot pickles from Porubsky's Deli and much of my wardrobe coming from Topeka's fine thrift stores.

While acknowledging that the whole affair was definitely one of those "you had to be there" events (in-person screenings were the whole point of doing it), here's a brief report of what transpired for those of you unable to attend or who would like to relive favorite moments. 

To begin with: thanks to everyone at the Kansas Silent Film Festival for all their help in bringing about our ersatz version some 1,500 miles away. With their own festival going online this year due to the pandemic (thus me at home instead of in Topeka), organizers could not have been more supportive of our tribute. 

Just to name a few Sunflower State heroes: Denise Morrison for providing fantastic recorded introductions to all our films; Bill Shaffer for working with Denise and others to get the intros on disc and sending them to us; to Carol Yoho for doing a special "New Hampshire" version of the Kansas festival logo; to Bill again for taking the trouble to pack and ship two containers of the aforementioned hot pickles all the way to the Granite State. 

A special tip of the derby hat to Karl Mischler, who each year plays a major role in the Kansas festival, and who this year came up from New York to take photos, greet guests, and help recreate the spirit of the White Concert Hall at Washburn University in Topeka, where silent films are shown each February, except not this year. Thank you, Karl!

And thanks to everyone connected with the Kansas festival for being supportive of our crazy idea, which was truthfully just another extension of my ongoing silent film accompaniment self-therapy sessions. I'm getting better—really, I am. :)

We ran three double-feature programs, one each on Friday night, Saturday night, and then Sunday afternoon. The first two shows were lightly attended, but the Sunday afternoon program (featuring the silent 'Wizard of Oz' and Keaton's 'The Navigator') attracted about 60 people—the Town Hall Theatre's largest audience of any show since the pandemic settled in nearly a year ago.

It being an event for which we had appropriated the name and image and reputation of a highly regarded film festival, I dressed in my Sunday-go-to-meeting suit throughout. However, for each screening I sported a different tie from a spiffy selection I purchased for $3 at one of Topeka's thrift stores. I also unearthed a fur-lined raincoat I bought out there one year for $5 when I didn't bring an appropriate jacket for cold weather.

 Denise delivers a remote recorded intro on the Town Hall Theatre's big screen.

I kept my own pre-film remarks brief so as to give Denise the spotlight with her on-screen intros. More than anything else, the sound of her voice and her cadence as she walked us through the background on each of the films made what we were doing seem like the real thing. If it's Denise, it must be the Kansas Silent Film Festival. Close your eyes and you really could believe you were at Washburn University.

Our intermission feature was sample-sized portions of Porubsky's hot pickles, which met with general approval as far as I could tell. Unlike in the documentary made about the venerable neighborhood deli, there were no scenes of people spitting them out, at least openly. Maybe the winter here has been longer and colder than I thought.

One of the things we didn't have is anyone to review the films like long-time Kansas attendee Bruce Calvert (from Texas) usually does. So here's my attempt to record impressions from my viewpoint: below the screen, in front of the audience, and behind the keyboard.

Claire Windsor and Hobart Bosworth in 'Little Church.'

• Friday, Feb. 26: The Little Church Around the Corner (1923): a so-so transfer of a 16mm print of this early Warner Bros. melodrama held the screen well enough, generating genuine sympathy and suspense, and not just because of the jumpy splices. Starring Kansas-born Claire Windsor and featuring an appearance by New Hampshire-born tough guy Walter Long. I based the score on a simple diatonic tune that could be transformed into a hymn-like cadence when needed. Best part (for me) was during the extended underground rescue sequence, when the music fell into a nice steady build, using shifting chords over a steady and slow rhythm to build suspense, which became one of those "wow, I can't believe how well this is working" moments at the keyboard.

• Friday, Feb. 26: The Round-Up (1920) starring Kansas-born Fatty Arbuckle in a non-slapstick role left a lot of people scratching their heads. The print looked fantastic, full of distant vistas rendered in subtle grays. But the convoluted plot and the film's attempt-for-pathos ending ("Nobody loves a fat man") generated actual complaints afterwards from bewildered or disappointed viewers. Music was mostly faux Aaron Copland, with some faux Stephen Foster mixed in, plus faux Mussorgsky for the Injun scenes and a stock "bad guy" theme for Wallace Beery's bizarre Mexican half-breed character. Programmed because I'd never done music for it before; alas, unlikely to uncork this one again. Sorry, Roscoe! 

• Saturday, Feb. 27: The Showoff (1926), a comedy/drama starred Keystone veteran Ford Sterling without his old comic make-up, was a rewarding and delightful: characters that resonated, a fun story, and some good scenes that generated a lot of laughter even among our small audience. (And great location scenes of downtown Philadelphia, too!) Shown as a way to include Kansas native Louise Brooks (above right, in a supporting role), I took a different approach with the music, sticking with a "light orchestra" setting (no percussion or brass) for the entire film. Using a pair of melodic scraps, I just sort of bounced along with the action when it was upbeat, then shifted to a more somber mode when things got serious. All along, made use of a small piece of Julius Fucik's 'Entrance of the Gladiators' (the famous circus march) to underscore the bluster of Ford Sterling's character. To me, the most musically satisfying film of our program.

• Saturday, Feb. 27: Risky Business (1925), another comedy/drama, this time starring Vera Reynolds with Kansas-born Zasu Pitts in a supporting role. I had high hopes for this one, which I'd never encountered before but I think is one of those "why isn't this film better known?" titles that you sometimes come across, especially because of an unexpected twist that ties it all together. And it did generate a pretty good audience reaction—at least on par with 'The Showoff,' which preceded it. But musically, it might have been a case of me trying too hard, as I felt I couldn't settle down and kept shifting material mid-way through scenes, which took away from the film's effectiveness. The continual interaction with society girl Vera and a young girl who wants her to read the same book again and again has a lot of comic potential, and I felt I muffed it. Also, played too much (and too fast and busy) during the "party of dissipated wealthy people" scenes. So the one that got away, at least this time, but I'll program it elsewhere and try to bring better material to help make the case.

Larry, Dorothy, and Ollie in 'The Wizard of Oz.'

• Sunday, Feb. 28: The Wizard of Oz (1925), Larry Semon's very loose adaptation of L. Frank Baum's stories and characters, which are repurposed into reasons for people to fall into mudbaths, make leaps from tall towers, and other Semon trademarks. This film, included because of its Kansas setting, has a reputation for being just plain awful. But I've found that people actually come to see it, which is more than you can say for most silent titles. Also, if given the proper context (it does not star Judy Garland—setting expectations is so important!), people seem to enjoy it, not in spite of the film's disjointed nature but perhaps because of it. Whatever the cause, Larry's 'Wizard' (shown in the beautifully restored version included with a recent re-issue of the 1939 MGM classic) delivered once again: the laughs started early and kept coming, give or take a few shaky sequences. The music was based mostly on a child-like theme that underpinned all of Semon's on-screen efforts, either as the aged toy-maker or as the farmhand/scarecrow, plus some stock "evil guy" music for the Oz villains, although keeping it always light. 

• Sunday, Feb. 28: The Navigator (1924), our comic grand finale, ended things on a high note. Some thoughts: Buster Keaton's comedy style transcends its era, with today's audiences responding readily to his actions, antics, and attitudes. And with Keaton in top form in 'The Navigator,' it's really a question of how strong the audience reaction will be. Sunday afternoon's screening had the flavor of the full silent film experience: an audience responding together as the story and the gags unfold. 'The Navigator' contains two "moments of no return"—places where the response will indicate how the rest of the screening will go. The first is when he takes a limousine across the street to visit his would-be bride; the second is when the spooky picture lands outside his porthole. Both cases produced strong reaction, which continued throughout the film. For music, all Keaton for me is an exercise in "less is more," as you don't want to overpower the comedy or any other moments on screen. Hence my tendency to employ fairly simple "nursery rhyme" textures for long stretches of Keaton, as opposed to something like hot jazz or overly "comic" music. But you do want the music to point the audience in the right direction, if possible, by helping set up the laugh moments, which requires concentration on what the music is doing to support what's on screen. Less playing, more thinking. And sometimes that means just dropping out, as stopping the music can help cue audience laughter. Not that Keaton needs my help for his stuff to work, but music can make a difference, especially if it stays out of the way.

So, as Denise said each time in her "good night" message, there you have it. A good time was had by all, except a few people who had higher expectations for 'The Roundup' on Friday night. We'll have to program some Arbuckle two-reelers to make up for it and restore everyone's faith. 

Meanwhile, out in Kansas, this year's virtual edition features a lot of great stuff posted over two days. It'll remain up for a little while, so get thee over to their Vimeo site and check out the program. Among other highlights, it's probably the best place on the Internet to see pictures of Karl Mischler standing in a snowbank wearing only shorts. (That's Karl, above left, ceremonially opening the Aviation Museum of N.H. on Saturday morning during his visit.)

They already have dates for the 2022 festival, by the way: if you're keeping track, it's 359 days until showtime. But they keep saying "hopefully" they'll return to films shown on screen with an audience and live accompaniment. 

Hopefully? Hopefully? Wow. At that point, if we're still all social distancing and staying home, there won't be a New Hampshire version of the Kansas Silent Film Festival in 2022, because by then I'll be living in a reed hut in the upper reaches of the Irrawaddy River (somewhere north of Mandalay) smoking cheroots and with a pet iguana for company. 

Photo by Karl Mischler, who like Diane Arbus has a gift for using his lens to capture the essence of a subject's personality, which in this case appears to be a mix of Jerry Colonna, Emmett Kelly, and Chico Marx. If this pandemic keeps up any longer, cloth face masks worn under the chin could replace the bow tie as a fashion accessory.
 

Valentine's Day: '7th Heaven' with live music on Sunday, 2/14 at Town Hall Theatre, Wilton NH

A lobby card promoting '7th Heaven' (1927).

Coming up next: a Valentine's Day screening of '7th Heaven' (1927), the romantic drama that helped Janet Gaynor win 'Best Actress' at the very first Academy Awards.

I've been talking it up by advising audiences to bring an ample supply of tissues. Maybe we can get Kimberly-Clark (makers of Kleenex) to sponsor the event.

But first, a few comments about the 'Kansas Silent Film Festival in New Hampshire' that we're organizing for later this month.

Our pop-up version of this popular festival, to be held 1,500 miles away from its usual location, is mostly my way of coping with the fact that it's not happening this year, at least in its usual format, due to the ongoing pandemic.

Yes, the Kansas Silent Film Festival will take place virtually. And you'll find more details on that when they're posted on their Web site, which is www.kssilentfilmfest.org.

But not being able to go out there, as I have every year for the past 20 years (really!), is something I just couldn't just accept. In February, some people go to Aruba and bask in the sunshine. Me, I go to Kansas, and bask in the friendliness.

But with no Kansas, there was a big hole in my calendar. So if I'm not going out to Kansas, why not bring Kansas here?

And that's what we're doing, with a three-day tribute to this terrific festival running from Friday, Feb. 26 through Sunday, Feb. 28 at the Town Hall Theater in Wilton, N.H.

On the program: six silent feature films (plus some surprises), all with ties to the Sunflower State, which produced a bumper crop of silent era greats: Buster Keaton, Louise Brooks, Fatty Arbuckle, Zasu Pitts, and more!

We're even importing some Kansas delicacies to bring some local flavor to our audiences: specifically, hot pickles from Porubsky's Deli in Topeka. Many thanks to all our friends at the Kansas festival for letting us do this and for helping us out so much! (And for sending the pickles!)

Get all the details by downloading the flier. 

Alas, so far most of the response to this has been negative. It's mostly from people who seem to think I'm being irresponsible by holding such an event during a pandemic. 

People are entitled to their opinion. But they should understand that in New Hampshire, state health guidelines have allowed theaters to operate (under strict safety protocols) since last July. 

At the Town Hall Theatre and a few other venues, we've been running film (with live music) all during this time, with no problem. The theater is limited to 50 percent capacity, and there's plenty of room for social distancing. 

New Hampshire does have a 10-day quarantine requirement for visitors from outside the New England region. So I don't expect many out-of-state people to trek to the Granite State for our homegrown tribute. 

But people who enjoy vintage film ought to realize that the few theaters willing to run it are in a fight for survival, and that's largely what this is about.

Currently, first-run films are a non-starter for a venue such as the Town Hall Theatre: studios aren't releasing their best stuff, the audiences aren't attending, and the terms for the pictures that are in release don't make economic sense for small theaters.

As Dennis Markaverich, owner/operator of the two-screen Town Hall Theatre for the past 47 years, put it: "It's like shoveling money into the boilers of the Titanic."

So I'm thankful Dennis is open to creative and unusual programming during these dark times (who else would let me run Fritz Lang's five-hour 'Dr. Mabuse, Der Spieler'?), and I'm glad to help him keep the theater open and the concession stand humming until better times return. 

So if you're concerned about the pandemic, I understand. Please stay home. But stop dumping on those of us making efforts to keep local theaters from tanking. 

Tank you—er, thank you. Okay, end of rant.

Now, about '7th Heaven': it's one of the biggies. You can tell because over the years the San Francisco Silent Film Festival (also one of the biggies) has run it not once but twice. Amazingly, as a young woman Janet Gaynor once worked at the Castro Theater, the festival's long-time home.

To read the thoughtful essays posted by the San Francisco folks, check out their Web site.

And to read the press release I cranked out last week in an attempt to pitch our screening as a great way to celebrate Cupid's big day, look out below!

Hope to see all you romantics at the Town Hall Theatre next Sunday. And don't forget your Kleenex® facial tissues, a Kimberly-Clark brand.

*     *     *

Charles Farrell and Janet Gaynor in their rooftop love nest in '7th Heaven' (1927).

SUNDAY, JAN. 31, 2021 / FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Contact: Jeff Rapsis • (603) 236-9237 • jeffrapsis@gmail.com

'7th Heaven' (1927) gets Valentine's Day screening on Sunday, Feb. 14 in Wilton, N.H.

Classic silent film love story won Janet Gaynor first-ever 'Best Actress' Academy Award

WILTON, N.H.—It's a one-of-a-kind film about a timeless topic: true love.

'7th Heaven' (1927), a romantic drama that won actress Janet Gaynor the first-ever 'Best Actress' Academy Award, will be shown with live music on Sunday, Feb. 14 at 2 p.m. at the Town Hall Theatre in Wilton, N.H.

Live music will be provided by Jeff Rapsis, a New Hampshire-based silent film accompanist.

The screening is free to the public; a donation of $10 per person is suggested to support the Town Hall Theatre's silent film series.

The Town Hall Theatre continues to observe procedures to comply with all state and CDC public health guidelines. Capacity is limited to 50 percent; patrons are required to maintain social distance and wear masks until seated.

'7th Heaven,' which also netted Frank Borzage the first 'Best Director' Oscar, is a fable set in Paris just before World War I. It's the story of an abused and abandoned young woman (Gaynor) who is cast aside by her family, only to be adopted by an ebullient sewer worker (Charles Farrell) with his sights set on higher things.

In her new home, the girl learns a fresh way of looking at life. Eventually love blossoms—but will it survive the onset of war? Director Borzage used all the techniques of silent film at its height to craft a universal and timeless story that audiences have found moving since the picture's first release in 1927, one year before the talkie revolution.

'7th Heaven' received the most nominations of any film—a total of five—at the first-ever Academy Awards ceremony, held on May 16, 1929 in the waning days of the silent era.

Besides winning 'Best Actress' for Gaynor and 'Best Director' for Borzage, it also won an Oscar for Benjamin Glazer in the 'Best Writing, Adapted Story' category. '7th Heaven' was also nominated for 'Outstanding Picture, Production' (the forerunner of today's 'Best Picture' category) and 'Best Art Direction.'

Gaynor's first-ever 'Best Actress' award was also given in honor of her performances in 'Street Angel' and 'Sunrise' in the same year. She won over competing actresses Gloria Swanson and Louise Dresser.

Live music will be provided by Jeff Rapsis, who improvises scores for silent films using a digital synthesizer to recreate the texture of the full orchestra.

"It's kind of a high wire act," Rapsis said. "But for me, the energy of live performance is an essential part of the silent film experience."

'7th Heaven' was remade in 1937 as a talking picture starring Simone Simon and Jimmy Stewart in the lead roles.

Critics and film buffs regard the original silent version of '7th Heaven' as a high-water mark of silent cinema. "The original '7th Heaven' is still the yardstick for all movie love stories," wrote Joe Franklin in 'Classics of the Silent Screen.'

Reviewer Tim Brayton wrote that '7th Heaven' is "the kind of movie that births a lifelong love affair with silent cinema. ... I'd be extraordinarily hard-pressed to come up with any way in which it's not flawless."

'7th Heaven' will be screened on Sunday, Feb. 14 at 2 p.m. at the Town Hall Theatre, 40 Main St., Wilton, N.H. Free admission; a donation of $10 per person is suggested to support the Town Hall Theatre's silent film series. For more information, visit www.wiltontownhalltheatre.com or call (603) 654-3456.