i may have gone my whole life without seeing a silent film in its entirety. this morning, with my moma card in hand, i put an end to all that and watched the ethereally gorgeous and perfectly cheeky lady windermere's fan. it was too delicate not to love; as though in a single blink, this celluloid neverland might just vanish. most of all, i liked how some of the movie's conversations went unheard (or in this case, went without intertitles), like bill murray's last whisper in lost in translation.
and my, how i covet all those flapper bands!
