By Max Goldberg

PROOF THAT SEX appeal can be eternal, 1926's Mantrap should come as a revelation to those who have never experienced flapper starlet Clara Bow's vivacious magnetism. Coyly toying with the camera as she breezes through a steady procession of hopelessly stodgy men, Bow stakes out star power with every shimmy. The overpowering effect is in no small part due to the contributions of cinematographer James Wong Howe. Born in China and raised in Washington state, Howe first found work in Hollywood at the Famous Players-Lasky studio and quickly became a sensation on the strength of his delicate handling of female subjects. Mantrap makes clear what the fuss was about. One can't fathom the film without the innumerable instances in which Bow strikes her flirty pose while bathed in a soft glow. Howe's lens caresses the actress with shimmering natural light, transforming her two-dimensional form into tactile vibrancy.

While Mantrap is undeniably Bow's vehicle, it's being screened this week as the opening film of a Castro Theatre retrospective devoted to Howe. Copresented by NAATA, the weeklong Howe bonanza pays tribute to a career of longevity, versatility, and artistry. Even the program's earliest entries (Mantrap is the only silent film, but The Criminal Code, Mark of the Vampire, Manhattan Melodrama, and The Thin Man were all produced before or during 1935) reveal a solidly formed aesthetic.

As is the case with most great cinematographers, Howe's distinction is largely born of inventive and expressive lighting. The cinematographer's nickname was "Low-key" Howe for good reason. He controls the dark spots of a frame much in the same way that a good jazz musician is said to play the silences between notes. In The Rose Tattoo (1958), the protagonist's spiraling degeneration can be found in Howe's shadows as much as in Tennessee Williams's words.

Howe's lighting sense is doubly impressive given his proclivity for location shooting. Critic James Agee referred to him as one of "the few men who use this country for background as it ought to be used in films." Indeed, there are times when Howe's backgrounds can hardly be called such. In Pursued (1947), for example, the cinematographer contributes to Robert Mitchum's tortured character psychology with a consuming landscape. His austere lens shapes the film's desert plain into an expressionistic universe.

Despite the consistent distinction of Howe's work, what one marvels at most is his adaptability – that is, the myriad ways in which the cinematographer varies his aesthetic in the service of a story. Spotlighting the collected films of a talented craftsperson such as Howe rather than those of a princely auteur is a way to emphasize the collaborative energy at the heart of Hollywood's classical era. Years later that energy could be combative – Howe initially didn't care for the fish-eye lens John Frankenheimer demanded for Seconds, though his pioneering use of it to convey psychological torment hasn't been matched. In contrast, the narrow focus of a film such as Mantrap nakedly reveals a series of isolated elements operating at full tilt; direction, writing, acting, editing, and (of course) cinematography all contribute to a determined sense of purpose. The film's, and Bow's, seductive appeal stems from this buzzing synchronicity, or what André Bazin affectionately termed "the genius of the system."

This is a genius celebrated all too rarely by retrospectives of Hollywood's past. More often, programs are organized to uncover the self-sustaining style of a Hawks or a Ford. While this approach can be enormously revealing, there's a troubling erasure of actual film production when directors are treated as islands unto themselves. Viewing a film like Mantrap through Howe's exquisitely efficient lens not only allows a revealing look at his own mastery but also conveys an important appreciation of the system that kept him working for more than 40 years.

In 1945 Howe responded to a simplistic assessment of cinematography by writing that "the trouble with many critics and ex-critics is that for all their skillful talk, they don't understand the techniques of motion pictures." While we can't possibly hope to decipher all of classical Hollywood's many entanglements, this retrospective is a definite step in the right direction.

'A Tribute to Legendary Cinematographer James Wong Howe' screens Oct. 22-28, Castro Theatre, 429 Castro, S.F. $5-$8.50. (415) 621-6120. Mantrap (Fri/22, 7:30 p.m.) features live musical accompaniment by the Baguette Quartette; Seconds (Fri/22, 9:30 p.m.) is introduced by cinematographer Emiko Omori; Hud (Sat/23, 7 p.m.) and The Rose Tattoo (Sun/24, 7 p.m.) are introduced by cinematographer Hiro Narita.