What's your favorite silent movie?

Honestly, I think the early stuff from the Lumiere brothers will probably stay my absolute favorites for as long as I live.
The Fall of a House, card games, factory workers, those train clips—every single time I rewatch them, I’m just hit with this massive wave of awe. It’s actually kind of intimidating, honestly. Even Murnau and those other cinematic wizards don't quite trigger that same feeling in me.
And man, their other early work is top-tier too. You've got "Grandma's Magnifying Glass," "The Great Train Robbery," and that one movie about a dog—I think his name was Rover Dover or something? I can't remember! But he saves this little girl every single time, pulling you right into the director's vision with those tight shots.
Look, I love all the legends, but those first ten years of cinema? They’re probably the best there ever was.

My absolute favorite silent era masterpiece has to be The Great Dictator.

Honestly, only Charlie Chaplin could pull off satire that sharp and hilarious at the same time...

Looking back at those earliest attempts to bridge the turn of the century, the only one that actually holds up for me today is A Trip to the Moon. Most of the other little flicks from that era feel like they exist solely for the history books rather than being anything remotely watchable.

A Trip to the Moon is truly something else; Georges Méliès operated like a theatrical impresario—a genuine P.T. Barnum of his era—and clearly went out of his way to craft something entirely singular. It’s the kind of film that earns several "firsts," serving as arguably the first true sci-fi flick while somehow weaving in those early elements of parody.

Back then, cinema was still such a niche little thing that if you actually wanted to entertain a crowd, you usually had to head over to the vaudeville stage instead. Georges Méliès was basically a one-man theater troupe; he’d design his own sets and push the limits by experimenting with cutting-edge camera work and editing techniques. His whole vibe was about dragging the camera into the realm of live theater, trying to stretch the medium past its stiff, formal boundaries. Honestly, watching *A Trip to the Moon* today, it feels like something that would have rolled straight out of a George Lucas studio. It’s still packed with this incredible sense of fantasy, absurdity, and surreal parody that hasn't aged a day. To me, it’s just brilliant—quirky, charming, and honestly pretty magical.

Since these have been in the public domain for ages now, you might as well watch them or just download them for your own collection. Right here..

"Nosferatu" 😁
Mostly because it's the only
silent film I've ever actually sat through.

Sophia Evans76 said:Sunrise - Murnau, The Birth of a Nation - D.W. Griffith, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari - Robert Wiene, Battleship Potemkin - Sergei Eisenstein, Man with a Movie Camera - Dziga Vertov, Metropolis - Fritz Lang, The Gold Rush, City Lights, and Modern Times - Charlie Chaplin

I have to agree with this selection—though, if you ask me, I’d definitely toss in The Golem, Strike by Sergei Eisenstein, Greed by Erich von Stroheim, The Phantom Carriage by Victor Sjöström, Nosferatu, and The Last Man by Murnau... plus Takový, Earth by Dovzhenko, Dr. Mabuse and Die Nibelungen by Fritz Lang... and so on.

Honestly, silent films just wear me out. They feel like sitting through a long-winded stage play, and don't even get me started on those subtitles constantly popping up.

That’s why I think comedies are the absolute best part of that era—especially anything with Charlie Chaplin.

Benjamin Thompson66 said:I’m on board with this list, though if I had my way, I’d throw in The Phantom Carriage by Victor Sjöström, Nosferatu, The Last Man by Murnau, The Golem, Strike by Sergei Eisenstein, Greed by Erich von Stroheim, Takový, Earth by Dovzhenko, and both Dr. Mabuse and Die Nibelungen by Fritz Lang... you get the idea.

I have to single out "The Phantom Carriage" (Körkarlen) by Victor Sjöström. Silent-era Europe is honestly worth a deep dive. 👍 Even though a lot of directors at the time were basically riding the coattails of big American productions from D.W. Griffith and Erich von Stroheim, German Expressionism really started carving out its own identity back then.

Sjöström—who is essentially the godfather of Swedish cinema—delivered one of the most powerful dramas ever made with "The Carriage," regardless of whether you're watching it in the past, present, or future... the film just sticks with you. For a production from 1920, the narrative structure is surprisingly complex. Sjöström actually adapted a novel by a Swedish Nobel laureate whose name escapes me right now. 😳 They used double exposure for the special effects, and they pulled it off brilliantly. The scenes featuring the reaper and that death carriage gliding through the world of the living are truly breathtaking.

Since we're talking about Sjöström, "Terje Vigen" (1917) comes to mind—another adaptation, this time based on a poem by Henrik Ibsen. Most of it was shot outdoors, which gives it that distinct Dreyer-esque, Scandinavian vibe, complete with those heavy existential dilemmas typical of the region... but "The Phantom Carriage" remains my favorite. I suspect Ingmar Bergman learned quite a bit from Sjöström; if I recall correctly, Isaac Berg's dream in "Wild Strawberry" is likely a nod to Sjöström's carriage.

It’s a shame that filmmakers today, say, Amenabar or M. Night Shyamalan, wouldn't think to tackle an adaptation of this exact story. "The Carriage" is a masterpiece, plain and simple.

Joseph Lee3, you're spot on about Georges Méliès, even if he isn't my absolute favorite
As for that list of movies I put together, I can't even explain why they hit me so hard. It’s like I feel this deep sense of awe, watching the very birth of cinema—if we want to call it art. I don't know. But that moment where they break down the wall in those Lumière films, the ones where I still can't remember the title, that'll probably stay my favorite for a long, long time.
Along with "The Truman Show".

I can't really claim to be an expert since I haven't sat through enough of his stuff to pick a favorite, but I definitely remember The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. It’s such a high-quality piece of cinema. One of the early pillars of German Expressionism, directed by Robert Wiene back in 1920, and it's basically considered the first horror movie ever made. You can clearly see how it influenced Debby Burton and helped shape her whole aesthetic... honestly, a film worth watching...

I can’t even bring up my absolute favorite, Jean Renoir, without getting started. 😍

Looking back at the silent era, "The Little Match Girl" and "On a Charleston Air" are easily the most fascinating to me. Renoir was a genuine technical genius. Since filmmaking was still basically just a hobby for him back then—mostly a way to try and make his wife, Catherine Hessling, a star—he had to rely on pure wit to pull off technical solutions and innovations that wouldn't become industry standards until much later. People love to shower Orson Welles and Citizen Kane with praise for their bold experimentation with deep focus, but honestly, Renoir was playing around with those exact techniques years before they became "revolutionary."

You can really see a massive amount of "special effects" packed into those two films. The second half of "The Little Match Girl" is a visual fairy tale that works beautifully; that scene where the riders chase through the clouds is incredibly striking and almost unbelievable for its time. Then there's "On a Charleston Air," where he experimented with slow motion, which looks pretty slick, though for me, the subversive subtext is what actually matters. The story is set in a post-apocalyptic New York—not because of a nuclear war, obviously, but perhaps because that primal fear of Armageddon is baked right into our DNA since the Stone Age—and it brilliantly flips racial stereotypes and geopolitical sentiments on their head.

To be honest, "On a Charleston Air" was just a little lark for Renoir. He basically wanted to burn through whatever film stock he had left after "Nana" and have some fun while on vacation. He never really cared much about the project afterward, which explains why the film feels so modern and fresh today. He didn't even edit it himself, and despite being conceived as a musical, the film never actually got a proper score. It’s genuinely hilarious watching Hessling and a minstrel singer perform the Charleston "dry" for twenty minutes without any music to back them up. Some of his ideas would still pass for performance art today: like a Black man traveling in a flying saucer, landing on a pole, and exiting in one of the most absurdly ridiculous ways imaginable—it’s totally avant-garde! 😂

Brenda Lee50 said:I simply can't resist mentioning my absolute favorite—Jean Renoir. 😍

During the silent era, the two films that grab my attention most are "The Little Match Girl" and "On a Charleston Air." Renoir was truly a genius when it came to cinematic technique—and honestly, since filmmaking was still just a hobby for him back then (one he used primarily to try and make his wife, Catherine Hessling, a star), he had to rely on pure ingenuity for many of the technical solutions and innovations that wouldn't become standard until much later. People love to shower Orson Welles and "Citizen Kane" with praise for his bold manipulation and experimentation with deep focus, but in reality, Renoir was playing around with those very same techniques several years before.

You can see a massive amount of "special effects" in these two specific films. The second half of "The Little Match Girl" is a visually stunning fairy tale—that scene where the riders chase through the clouds is incredibly striking and, frankly, almost unbelievable for its time. As for "On a Charleston Air," he experimented with slow motion, which looks quite slick, though for me, the subversive elements are what really matter. The story is set in a post-apocalyptic Paris—not because of a nuclear war, obviously, but perhaps that primal fear of Armageddon has been baked into our DNA since the Stone Age—and it brilliantly flips racial stereotypes and geopolitical sentiments on their head.

"On a Charleston Air" was essentially a little romp for Renoir. He basically wanted to burn through the leftover film stock he had after finishing "Nana" and just have some fun while on vacation. He didn't give much thought to the film afterward, yet even today, it feels remarkably modern and fresh. He didn't even edit it himself, and despite being conceived as a musical, the film never actually received a supporting score. It’s genuinely hilarious watching Hessling and the minstrel singer perform the Charleston "dry"—just twenty minutes of dancing without any musical accompaniment at all! Some of those ideas would still count as high art today: a Black man traveling in a sphere—a flying saucer, really—landing on a pole and stepping out in one of the most ridiculous ways imaginable? It's totally avant-garde! 😂

Joseph Lee3, you're a legend... I saw that little flick once a long, long time ago... I'll have to track it down somewhere...🙂

Thanks, slang! 😍

Arthur Garcia59 said:Joseph Lee3, you're spot on regarding Georges Méliès, even if he isn't my personal favorite.
As for the films I listed, I can't quite put my finger on why they hit me that way—it’s almost like a sense of profound awe, witnessing the actual birth of an art form. I don't know, but that Lumière film about the Fall of the Berlin Wall—I can't recall the exact title—will probably stay one of my absolute favorites for a long time to come.
alongside "The Truman Show".

👍 I actually just sat down and watched a compilation of those earliest Lumière films. That scene you mentioned is titled "Fall of the Berlin Wall." Honestly, when that train pulls into the station, the whole magic of it lies in trying to imagine being someone back in the late 19th century seeing it for the very first time... it really gives you chills. 😵