It's incredible how much variety there is in the silent era. Some titles were pointedly direct with their storytelling, informing us with each title was was to transpire in each scene; others approach exposition more artfully and blithely, letting viewers pick up on the course of events primarily or exclusively from the visual storytelling. Some titles have aged so well that there's not been the slightest loss of fidelity over several decades; in other cases the imagery may be imperfect, whether for print deterioration or even just limitations of what early equipment could capture, to the extent that without outside explanation it can be difficult to discern, for example, what the text is supposed to say on a piece of paper, or to distinguish between two actors who look alike. This film is certainly on the more artful side, plying us with less outward exposition than many contemporaries or predecessors, and there are some instances when the image is a tad washed out. On the other hand, mostly the picture is so crisp and vivid that we can see every detail to present, which is all the more important given the relative paucity of intertitles to elucidate plot development - and, sure enough, given the wealth of detail to take in. All this is to say that by one means or another '6 1/2 x 11' (or 'Six and one-half times eleven,' or 'Six et demi onze' in French) is a feature that is perhaps best appreciated by those who are already enamored of early cinema. For such viewers, however, I think this is highly engaging and enjoyable, and holds up gratifyingly well even almost 100 years later.
Interspersed with moments of relative quiet, most elements of this title are bent toward maintaining a robust air, whether jovial, or more direly dramatic, that itself is quite tantalizing. Gorgeous production design and art direction, and some lovely filming locations, serve as the backdrop for vivid and sometimes animated performances. Filmmaker Jean Epstein demonstrates a wonderfully keen eye for shot composition, and orchestrates scenes with a mind toward accentuating whatever mood presents therein - in some cases with an emphatic artistic flair. Georges Périnal's cinematography, and the editing, are just as sharp and mindful, and equally important at crucial moments to constructing the narrative precisely as it has been laid out. With all this having been said, it's to the immense credit of director Epstein, and just as much so writer (and wife) Marie Epstein, that for as firm as the visual presentation is, it turns out there's not actually much need for intertitles in the first place. Each scene was conjured, let alone executed, with the intent of mostly letting the visual experience speak for itself in communicating the story. Some unimportant minutiae may get lost along the way, and alternatively, those intertitles that are employed are chosen and penned carefully to provide context or otherwise information only to the specific extent that it is necessary. Yet by and large, for the strength of every component part, '6 1/2 x 11' capably weaves its compelling tale of love, exploitation, deceit, and grief merely with what we see through the camera's eye. And that's no small feat, even for the silent era.
As a matter of comparison one might observe that the makeup is extra heavy in this movie, almost garishly so, even more than was often true among its contemporaries or predecessors. Able-bodied as the actors are, one could also argue that the portrayals waver between the more nuanced and natural depictions that would come to dominate in select instances before the advent of talkies and certainly thereafter, and also the more exaggerated expressions and body language that characterized the medium as it developed from the stage and compensated for lack of sound; we see a little of both styles. Then again, also as a matter of comparison, I think the sequencing is especially smart here, elevating the experience still higher. Though sagas may be found elsewhere in early cinema and in subsequent years of a broadly similar thrust, I also believe the tale Marie Epstein wrote is markedly more even-handed and balanced than we've seen elsewhere, with distinct cleverness in the details of how the course of events unfolds. For all that, I'd go so far as to say that it feels more original, and is all the more engaging and satisfying for the fact of it.
While there are various bits and pieces that vary in their strength, much more than not I think this is a silent picture that holds up remarkably well, not least as every aspect is defined by such clear care, skill, and intelligence. If there is any discrete weakness, I think it's just that the ending falters a tad. The whole film does a terrific job of building tension and energy, and even more so in the latter half as the drama seems to mount toward a notably severe climax. Yet in the last stretch, '6 1/2 x 11' just kind of lets off the pressure, and lets that tension quietly taper off. Though the plot is resolved it is weirdly meager, and leaves one with a final impression that's slightly, but measurably, lesser than what it has otherwise been over the preceding length. I don't even think the ending needed to have been fundamentally changed; between writing and direction, just a minute alteration of tone would have considerably affected the outcome, illustrating how critical the tiniest facets can be to a movie.
Still, one could him and haw about the particulars endlessly and the fact remains that this is excellent. To whatever degree the end result is imperfect the value shines through much more. It may not be a total must-see, even for avid cinephiles and devotees of the silent era, but if one does have the chance to watch I think this is just about as fine as most any of its kin. Don't feel like you need to go out of your way for '6 1/2 x 11,' but this is an early classic that's worth checking out.
