That line from The Haunting Of M refers to a late Victorian photograph. So used to the stiff, Stoic, frozen pictures are we that the smear of a rapid-turned figure amidst a tableau of posed bourgeoisie catches notice at once.
Spirits, spirits of the dead. A photo that weighs heavy with Victorian propriety erected when aristocrats, gone, have given way to the newly-rich. A tight-collared, corseted morality whose driving fire -- like all ours -- licks restless even when contained, even more when contained.
Then the scene, the scene, filmed in almost no light, where a barely distinct chair near the foot of the bed seats an even less distinct occupant. Or has it done so? The chair, a small rocker, is left rocking. Or has it been?
There is so much restlessness. Move yourself now. So that you don't come back. Later.
Maurice Chevalier and (not) Louise Brooks
19 hours ago