
1923 · Abel Gance
How La Roue has been received, argued over, and remembered.
A sensation in 1923 Paris — its rapid-fire editing electrified filmmakers from the Soviet montage school onward — but for decades it survived only in butchered short versions. The near-complete 2019 restoration (around seven hours) finally let modern audiences see what the fuss was about, and its stock has climbed ever since.
The eternal La Roue debate: is it a revolutionary editing landmark wrapped in a creaky, overwrought melodrama, or does the melodrama's sheer delirious excess turn out to be the point — plus the practical squabble over which cut and runtime you're actually obliged to sit through.
Jean Cocteau supplied its immortal blurb: 'There is cinema before and after La Roue as there is painting before and after Picasso.' Its accelerating rhythmic montage of rails, wheels and pistons became one of the most studied and imitated passages in silent cinema.
A silent-canon heavyweight that lives in the shadow of Gance's Napoléon — the 'you must see this' homework for anyone tracing where montage came from, and a badge-of-honour logged watch for marathon-length cinephiles.