Today we go to the cinema for any number of reasons: to chuckle at the latest Will Ferrell movie, to be thrilled by Quentin Tarantino, or to cry with our girlfriends over the new Kate Hudson chick flick. We realize that what we are seeing on the screen is not real, but we enjoy the films regardless. That was the dream of the first filmmakers—to recreate reality on a screen so people could enjoy it repeatedly, in theaters far and wide. Tom Gunning’s article, “An Aesthetic of Astonishment: Early Film and the (In)credulous Spectator,” makes the point that early film viewers were not any less aware of this truth than we are today. They did not dodge the train in Lumiere’s first film because they thought it would hit them; rather, spectators knew it was harmless but allowed themselves to feel the thrill anyway.
The same is true for spectators of Feuillade’s Les Vampires. The director’s theatrical trap doors, disguises, and “smoke and mirrors” did not fool the audience for a moment, nor was that Feuillade’s intention. He knew his audience was not unsophisticated. Spectators chose to suspend disbelief in order to enjoy the film for its mystery, thrill, and excitement. All film audiences share this desire to be entertained, so we all enter the theater allowing ourselves to be thrilled by what plays out on a flat screen. When viewing Les Vampires, we must embrace the drama, over-acting, and somewhat primitive special effects. Only then can we appreciate the engaging plot, subtle comedy, and creative execution of Feuillade’s innovative serial.
