In late 1960, a social group from Kansas took a trip to Paris. From half a century on, they look like ambassadors from another age; possessed of the innate self-confidence, tinged with innocence, of Americans abroad at the height of the American century.
They took with them an 8mm film camera, to document their trip. But whether by accident than design, they ended up capturing something far more personal than just a reel of sightseeing footage.
It is clear how enamoured they were by the people of Paris. From lingering shots of passers-by on the street, to candid moments of actuality, this footage beautifully captures the comings and goings of everyday life in the city from the perspective of an outsider.
And oh, how they mixed with the locals! I love how fearless the men are at chatting up the Parisian women – all the while remaining perfect gentlemen. I also love how slightly stiff and formal they look next to the effortlessly sophisticated Parisians. Nonetheless, the locals seem quite taken with them in return, from the faintly bemused waitress who watches the group at a café, to the shy young woman who poses with one of the men on a busy street corner.
Perhaps the only person who is not so pleased to meet them the poor fellow who gets his drink knocked over by one of the men, who is too wrapped up in talking to a pair of women at the next table to even notice. (By the way, I think I have identified the place where all this happens as the Café Français on Place de la Bastille – which is still there today).
Above all, I love how obviously filled with happiness these people are at simply being there, in that beautiful city, flushed with the cold sunlight of a late autumn day. Isn’t that how most of us feel, visiting Paris for the first time?
This particular episode started life as a standalone found-footage short, released in slightly different form in 2015. After it went out on YouTube, I put out a call for further information about any of the people in the film, and was lucky enough to be contacted by a man named Fritz Vandover. He is the great-nephew of the man to whom the film belonged – Robert Kilker, the bow-tied gentleman who knocks over the glass of water at the Café Français.
Mr Vandover kindly told me a little about Robert, who died in 2008 at the age of 86. He had, apparently, been a chaplain in in the army during WW2, and travelled the world extensively, bringing back reel upon reel of film.
He also told me that, while he did not know the identities of anyone else in the film, he assumes that a couple must have been fellow war veterans. Could it be that this, for some of them, this was not their first visit to Paris at all? In which case, how must it have felt for them to return, in such different circumstances?
This footage is © Robert Leo Kilker. It is in the public domain, licensed under the terms of Creative Commons 3.0, and distributed by the Center for Home Movies. The song is ‘Life Like This,’ performed by Annie Drury and written by Craig Bussey. It is published by Audio Network.
Recent Comments