Open, general discussion of silent films, personalities and history.
Last night, I dreamed I was under contract to D. W. Griffith in 1914 and working for him as an actress. He sweetly yet forcefully compelled me to cross rooms with little hop-jumps, dash giddily in circles around trees, and stand near the camera while talking to others off screen long after they had exited the scene. When asked to nuzzle and kiss a silly bird, I rebelled. Naturally, I awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. Tonight, we are supposed to watch A Romance of Happy Valley? Do I dare?
They call me "Dangerous Dal"