I had Herman G. Weinberg as an instructor when I was an undergraduate student attending City College of New York where I majored in Motion Picture Production...attaining a BA degree, graduating in January 1966. The first film course I, yours truly Phil Gries, ever took at CCNY was the History Of Film and Weinberg was my teacher, in the Fall of 1962. The film department was one of the premiere and oldest in the country at the time, founded by Hans Richter in 1941.For a short time Stanley Kubrick and Woody Allen were students there, in 1947 & 1953, respectively, studying film production. Herman G. Weinberg reminded me of Alfred Hitchcock...his gate and physical resemblance. His daughter would come to class quite often. He would show the classics to us.Many were silent films, including his own, one and only, directorial and cinematic achievement, "Autumn Fire." Weinberg was very proud of his film. I was impressed. Hard to believe how time does fly...54 years, yet not really so long ago in my mind!

Herman Weinberg described this as a 'film poem' and instead of words (of which there are few), he uses images. It's really quite artistic--a treat for the eyes. While I am not a huge fan of this sort of thing, this was pretty captivating and seemed to show that Weinberg had the eye of an artist. This is a little less apparent in the later images of the city--but more pronounced when he showed images of the pretty young lady. It was as if Weinberg was really captivated by the lady. Incidentally, this woman who soon after married Weinberg--so she must have been quite pleased by how he portrayed her in the film and his feelings for her seemed apparent in the film! I wonder what ever became of them. Regardless, the scenes of the man in the city and the lady in the country do eventually come together--making for a nice little avant-garde sort of thing. Impossible to really give this one a numerical rating--it's just so unique.

Wow, strangely this has ended up being one of the most beautiful films I have ever seen. A "film poem" (cinepoems being popular at the time but a dead art now, unfortunately--I believe the last real cinepoem to be Tarkovsky's Mirror and I think Aronofsky's The Fountain may be bringing it back), it's about two lovers separated, codified by the country house that the woman is in and the metropolis the man is in. They wander, the editing informing their mental state, until finally a plot-point is revealed as the woman writes a letter to the man excited for their reunion. They travel to an intersecting point between their two different lives: a train station, both an iconic industrial symbol of transition and border-transgression, and a mutually even space between countryside and city. The meeting is the best ever filmed of that cinematic cliché: two lovers running at each other and--well, in this case, not embracing, actually. The film ends there. The effect is more powerful.--PolarisDiB

Identified in the open titles as a "film poem", Autumn Fire is reminiscent of Murnau's Sunrise (incidentally subtitled "A Song of Two Humans") Two lovers, separated by time and space, ponder a reunion. The film is longish for it's slip of a plot, which concentrates on the contrast of isolation in both the city and countryside. It's all worth it however, for the simple but heartfelt climax, as the couple is reunited in New York's Old Penn Station. Worth seeing if you get the chance.