La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc (1928).
Erin Smith , of Michigan Technological University , distinguished herself during her years at Madison as a grad student in both English and Film. She’s moved more fully into media studies and production, including documentary work. When she invited me to visit 41 North Film Festival  this coming weekend, how could I refuse?
There’s a lot going on, most elaborately a screening of Dreyer’s La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc  with orchestral and choral accompaniment.
I’ve never attended a performance of Richard Einhorn’s score, so this should be quite something. (The Criterion DVD version of the film  offers it as optional accompaniment.) In addition, there are several other films showing over the weekend. You can go here  for the full schedule, which includes one of our recent favorites , Varda’s Faces/Places.
While Kristin and I are there, I’ll be doing a lecture on Dreyer and another talk based on Reinventing Hollywood.
My first book was a little guide to La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc, and my second book was a survey of Dreyer’s films. I’ve returned to him sporadically since then, and I’ve had occasion to rethink his role in film history–especially in light of my and others’ research on silent cinema. (For example, “The Dreyer Generation,”  “Dreyer Re-Reconsidered,” “Nordisk and the Tableau Aesthetic,”  and this blog entry  on Criterion’s Master of the House release.)
Dreyer remains for me an impressive, enigmatic figure. He was sensitive to the changing styles of cinematic expression from the 1920s to the 1960s, and yet he went his own way. His early silents were au courant with trends in European filmmaking, especially kammerspiel. Yet Jeanne was one of the wildest movies of the era, a hallucinatory blend of Expressionism, French Impressionism, and Soviet Montage. It still seems to me resolutely unique, which partly secures its timelessness.
After the no less weird Vampyr (1932), Dreyer’s films seemed old-fashioned in their pacing; even Danish critics called Day of Wrath (1943) sluggish. Yet as things played out his “archaic” style in the sound era looks more and more prophetic. He said he learned from Antonioni, but Ordet (1955) and Gertrud (1964; below) go far beyond the deliberate pacing of European films of his day and look forward to Straub/Huillet and Béla Tarr.
Was he the first director of “slow cinema”? I now see him as integrating principles of the “theatrical” cinema of the 1910s–a style he rejected in his youth–into the modern sound cinema, in effect showing the continued viability of the approach, while pushing it to extremes. Just like what he did with editing and shot design in Jeanne, come to think of it. For such a quiet guy, he was pretty bold.
Michigan Tech is located in gorgeous country (the UP , as we midwesterners call it). Kristin and I look forward to our road trip, accompanied by old Orson Welles radio shows. We thank Erin and her colleagues for inviting us!
A view of Houghton, MI, from the Portage waterway.