March 5, 1904 [Le Roi du maquillage/The Untameable Whiskers]
This is Gothic-bizarre, compelling and off-putting at the same time—or is it compelling because it is off-putting? Or is my compulsion to watch so strong that it upsets? I confess that my response may have something more to do with my own state of mind than The Untameable Whiskers itself. But I won't shrink from this habit of forcing cinema inward, to the only place it becomes understandable to me. I find myself losing interest in what might be Méliès' "intentions." I'd much rather mold the picture like pulsating clay, alive in my hands, and livelier the more I knead and shape it, no matter how freakish or incomprehensible the resulting form.