Georges Méliès, most popularly-known for his remarkable 1902 film 'Le Voyage dans la lune / A Trip to the Moon,' was truly a magician with the camera a pioneer of both cinematic special effects and narrative-driven films. Between 1896 and 1914, Méliès directed more than 500 short films. Though I am not overly fond of the director's early, one-shot efforts (usually just a vehicle for showing off his clever special effects), I am held in absolute awe with his more ambitious, plot-driven projects, such as the aforementioned 'Le Voyage dans la lune,' the glorious 'Le Voyage à travers l'impossible / The Impossible Voyage (1904)' and other lesser-known gems such as 'L' Éclipse du soleil en pleine lune / The Eclipse: Courtship of the Sun and Moon (1907).'
'The Eclipse' is largely a slapstick comedy, with its old and bumbling Professor of Astronomy (played by Méliès himself) suffering various unfortunate incidents both before and in the aftermath of a spectacular solar eclipse and meteor shower. Prior to this momentous spectacle, the aged Professor gathers a class of talkative and mischievous children to educate them of the phenomenon. At first, the children begin to fall asleep, and then one of them ventures to pin a scrap of paper (cut into the shape of a human) to his back as he scrawls onto a blackboard. Giggling at their little prank, the children pay little mind to what their teacher is telling them, though they scramble to the window excitedly as the eclipse draws nearer.
On a higher floor, the Professor and the other teachers eagerly await the awesome display, with the Professor helping himself to the largest telescope and pointing it directly at the converging sun and moon (don't try this at home!). As we've already noticed in his previous films, Méliès is fond of anthropomorphizing astronomical objects (who can ever forget that classic image of the explorers' rocket piercing the eye of the Man on the Moon?!), and here is most certainly no exception. The Sun an old, bitter and ugly brute licks his lips as the young, effeminate-looking Moon approaches. What results is an unmistakable, and infinitely-baffling, allegory for sexual intercourse. As the expectant Sun disappears behind the latter, the Moon's "face" suddenly shows an explosion of pure satisfaction, and each entity emerges from the encounter looking both exhausted and fulfilled.
Following this are two sequences described respectively as "The Wandering Stars" and "An Unexpected Bath." In the first, we are shown the spectacular skyward dance of various astronomical objects stars, planets, moons with a male or female "angel" perched upon each, and the occasional collision between two or more of them. The second sequence shows a meteor shower, with each of the meteors represented by a single, scantily-clad woman, a thin path of meteorite dust trailing above her head.
We then return to the exploits of the bumbling Professor of Astonomy, as he, overly-excited by the remarkable spectacle he has just witnessed, accidentally steps out the window and plummets head-first into a water barrel. The children laugh at his misfortune, proceeding to beat him mischievously with pillows, as the other teachers try awkwardly to warm him with blankets. An imaginative little film from an early master of imagination.
'The Eclipse' is largely a slapstick comedy, with its old and bumbling Professor of Astronomy (played by Méliès himself) suffering various unfortunate incidents both before and in the aftermath of a spectacular solar eclipse and meteor shower. Prior to this momentous spectacle, the aged Professor gathers a class of talkative and mischievous children to educate them of the phenomenon. At first, the children begin to fall asleep, and then one of them ventures to pin a scrap of paper (cut into the shape of a human) to his back as he scrawls onto a blackboard. Giggling at their little prank, the children pay little mind to what their teacher is telling them, though they scramble to the window excitedly as the eclipse draws nearer.
On a higher floor, the Professor and the other teachers eagerly await the awesome display, with the Professor helping himself to the largest telescope and pointing it directly at the converging sun and moon (don't try this at home!). As we've already noticed in his previous films, Méliès is fond of anthropomorphizing astronomical objects (who can ever forget that classic image of the explorers' rocket piercing the eye of the Man on the Moon?!), and here is most certainly no exception. The Sun an old, bitter and ugly brute licks his lips as the young, effeminate-looking Moon approaches. What results is an unmistakable, and infinitely-baffling, allegory for sexual intercourse. As the expectant Sun disappears behind the latter, the Moon's "face" suddenly shows an explosion of pure satisfaction, and each entity emerges from the encounter looking both exhausted and fulfilled.
Following this are two sequences described respectively as "The Wandering Stars" and "An Unexpected Bath." In the first, we are shown the spectacular skyward dance of various astronomical objects stars, planets, moons with a male or female "angel" perched upon each, and the occasional collision between two or more of them. The second sequence shows a meteor shower, with each of the meteors represented by a single, scantily-clad woman, a thin path of meteorite dust trailing above her head.
We then return to the exploits of the bumbling Professor of Astonomy, as he, overly-excited by the remarkable spectacle he has just witnessed, accidentally steps out the window and plummets head-first into a water barrel. The children laugh at his misfortune, proceeding to beat him mischievously with pillows, as the other teachers try awkwardly to warm him with blankets. An imaginative little film from an early master of imagination.