Journal of Film Preservation N° 60/61 - FIAF

What happened then was both pathetic and deeply moving. At age
74, Card took money from his bank account and drove across the
state of New York in order to buy and then destroy all the copies of
Vanity Fair he could put his hands on. It was an absurd gesture with
the flair of an epic romance, but it was also the sign of a personality
for which any distinction between rational and irrational is nothing
more than an illusion.
Much of Card’s existence could be summarized in this hectic
sequence of impulsive and grandiose gestures, all characterized by a
relentless and altogether striking determination. In 1972, together
with Tom Luddy, Card conceived the idea of a film festival so remote
that it could be attended only with a major logistical effort. It was
during that year that Telluride — then a village of little more than
one thousand people and not yet included in the Gotha of the tourist
industry of the Rocky Mountains region — became an indispensable
meeting point for all those who truly care about cinema as an art
form and those who created it. Gloria Swanson, Leni Riefenstahl,
Abel Gance and James Stewart (among many, many others) defied
the minuscule and frightful asphalt strip of the highest airport in the
United States in order to see again their own films in an open air
cinema, shown late at night at polar temperatures. As soon as the
festival became famous and therefore fashionable for an audience
larger than the élite of spectatorial complicity, Card resigned. His
mission had been accomplished, but in his view the spirit of the
endeavour was no longer there.
Card had already given expression to his vision in 1955, when
geniuses such as Mary Pickford, Charlie Chaplin, John Ford, King
Vidor and Frank Borzage were the first to receive the George
Eastman Award, a tribute given every two years to the great masters
of cinema. (The tribute is still being given today. The last recipient of
the award in October 1999 was Meryl Streep.) Some rare images of
the first event reveal him at his best, an elegant and charismatic
presence at the side of living legends whose presence by the podium
was taken for granted. What wouldn’t we do to have that experience
again today! The older patrons of the Dryden Theatre, the 535-seat
venue created by Card in 1950, still have fond memories of his
programs. Even now, they acknowledge that the film being shown
was only part of the reason for going there, the main one being
Card’s brilliant introductions, full of fact, fiction and fascinating
anecdotes — the stuff a great programmer is made of. After his
retirement in 1977, Card soon realized that he could not exist
without an audience. He first acquired a commercial theatre in the
suburbs of Rochester and transformed it into the most unlikely of
repertory houses, then built one in his own house and called it Box 5
after another of his favorite films, the 1915 version of Phantom of the
Opera.
I first met Card in his temple of cinematic seduction in 1989, after
having received a hand-made flyer created especially for the occasion
69 Journal of Film Preservation / 60/61 / 2000
James Card
James Card est décédé le 15 janvier cette
année, dans un hôpital à Syracuse. Il était,
en fait, l’un des sept talentueux sauveurs du
cinéma d’antan (avec Iris Barry, William K.
Everson, Ernest Lindgren, Jacques Ledoux,
Henri Langlois et Vladimir Pogacic), mais il
était aussi un homme qui a brûlé la vie des
deux bouts. Les cinéphiles se rappellent de
lui comme étant celui qui a sauvé et
ressuscité la légende de Louise Brooks, qu’il
a rencontré à New York en 1955.
Card a fondé le Motion Picture Department
at George Eastman House en 1949, et à
partir de ce moment, il a mis en lumière à
l’écran un vaste corpus de trésors et de
talents du cinéma muet. En 1972, avec Tom
Luddy, Card eu l’idée d’un festival du film
dans un lieu si isolé qu’y assister requérait
un effort logistique majeur: Telluride. Dès
que le festival est devenu connu et donc à la
mode pour une audience plus large que celle
de l’élite dont il se réservait la complicité,
Card s’est retiré.
Card avait déjà donné forme à sa vision en
1955, quand des génies tels que Mary
Pickford, Charlie Chaplin, John Ford, King
Vidor et Frank Borzage étaient les premiers
à recevoir le Prix George Eastman, un
hommage rendu tous les deux ans aux
grands maîtres du cinéma. (Ce Prix existe
encore. La dernière personne qui l’a reçu, en
1999, était Meryl Streep.)
Le seul livre de Card qui fut publié,
Seductive Cinema (1994), débute par ces
mots: “Vous allez chercher en vain les notes
qui pourraient valider chaque déclaration
que l’auteur fait dans le texte. Ayez la foi.
Cet auteur était là.” Son livre qui était censé
être une histoire du cinéma muet a pris, en
fait, la forme d’une autobiographie.
Cependant, les véritables mémoires de James
Card sont enfuies dans les images des films
qu’il a contribué à sauvegarder, dans les
cartes routières du Colorado, dans les lettres
à Louise Brooks. Quelques-unes des réponses
de la comédienne sont encore conservées
dans une boîte scellée dans les archives de la
George Eastman House. Louise avait
demandé que la boîte ne soit pas ouverte
avant 2006.