Movie Kisses

In other words, whatever else a kiss may be, it is for filmmakers above all a formal challenge. The camera adores the human face. The apotheosis of the cinematic art, the point at which it has been said (by wiser critics than I) to approach the condition of holiness, is the close-up, which endows an individual visage with aesthetic dignity and ontological gravity. The great movie stars are not necessarily the most talented actors, or even the best-looking human beings, but rather those whose eyes, mouths and cheekbones compel attention when rendered in two dimensions. Their magic is in their singularity.

What happens when you put two of them together? The very first moving-picture kiss, in a 25-second short made by Thomas Edison in 1896, shows the problem clearly. The man and the woman in the frame — a good-natured pair whose interaction is more playful than earnestly amorous — sit next to each other. He is in profile. She is snuggled against him, with her face turned away from his and toward the camera at about a 45-degree angle. Their first attempts at kissing, which interrupt a steady (and of course silent) stream of talk, are odd, sideways forays. The corners of their mouths meet while she keeps looking at the camera. And then suddenly, he pulls away, smooths his impressive mustache, turns her face toward his and plants one squarely on her mouth.

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