Originally posted to Facebook on 8/31/2016
The Matrimaniac was the fifth and final film on our list from 1916. Both leads also appeared in Intolerance: Douglas Fairbanks in a small role, and Constance Talmadge as one of the female leads. This is the first film that I recall where I’ve seen Fairbanks in the lead role. My image of him mostly stems from clips from his costume epics -- I usually envision him as having just taken Jack Handey’s course at swashbuckling school (i.e. Laughing, Then Jumping Off Something.) In this he plays an essentially modern character, who is exasperated by the various obstacles he runs into. In some ways that makes his occasional acrobatics a little more surprising, since he's basically dressed for a business meeting. And the film mostly belongs to him; there is occasional cross-cutting to Talmadge and various pursuers, but Fairbanks has most of the main action, which is a little strange given how prominent Talmadge was in Intolerance.
This film, though, couldn’t be more different from Intolerance; it is a light comedy, and conforms a lot more closely to the received popular idea of silent films. The plot involves Douglas Fairbanks and Constance Talmadge deciding to elope against the wishes of her father and her father's choice of a suitor, who discover their elopement plot and chase them to a neighboring town. There is a little bit of stuntwork along the way -- people climbing onto trains, and up the sides of buildings. Nothing particularly startling, but pointing in the direction of where movie stuntwork was heading. This is also probably the most explicitly comedic film we’ve seen since Tillie’s Punctured Romance. It is funnier than that film, but for me that is a low bar.
Next week we begin 1917 with A Romance of the Redwoods, our second film directed by Cecil B. DeMille, and the first starring Mary Pickford, the future wife of Fairbanks. I’ve also added our films planned for 1918 to the list, which is shared here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Gretchen the Greenhorn (1916)
Originally posted to Facebook on 8/17/2016
Gretchen the Greenhorn was the fourth film we watched from 1916. It clocked in at under an hour, which was a welcome change of pace after the twelve-part serial Judex and the three-plus hours of Intolerance. It starred Dorothy Gish -- whom we’d previously seen in Judith of Bethulia, along with Lillian Gish, though both of them had tiny parts -- and several other actors whom we’d seen just previously in Intolerance, including Elmo Lincoln, who would later become the first screen Tarzan. The main villain, when he finally shows up, is played by Euguene Pallette, who is not a household name, but who appeared in small parts in hundreds of films, including many classics, up through the forties.
It was directed by Sydney and Chester Franklin, each of whom went on directing well into the sound era, Sydney more prominently than Chester. This film was much more pedestrian than some of the films we’ve been seeing lately -- it uses none of the visual pyrotechnics of Intolerance, for example -- but it is well-made, and probably more typical of the sort of film that was being shown at the time. It is the story of a Dutch immigrant, Gish, joining her father in America, where he works as an engraver. (Ben asked what a greenhorn was -- I told him it was an old-fashioned word for newbie.) It has some superficial similarities to The Italian, from 1915, which we watched several weeks ago. But that movie was much more melodramatic and serious. This film is not a comedy per se, but it is the kind of movie where you can be relatively sure that everything winds up well in the end. It also subscribes heavily to the melting pot idea of America -- the neighbors in their New York tenement are Irish and Italian, with various other ethnicities appearing as well. (Needless to say when people from various ethnicities begin appearing in century old films, there is always the potential for disaster, but luckily nothing rose to the “pause the film and contextualize for the children” category.) In addition to this backdrop, there is a counterfeiting plot, some gunplay, and a romance as well.
Our next film will be The Matrimaniac, our fifth and final movie from 1916. It will be the first film in which we’ll see Douglas Fairbanks as the male lead. The link to our upcoming films, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Gretchen the Greenhorn was the fourth film we watched from 1916. It clocked in at under an hour, which was a welcome change of pace after the twelve-part serial Judex and the three-plus hours of Intolerance. It starred Dorothy Gish -- whom we’d previously seen in Judith of Bethulia, along with Lillian Gish, though both of them had tiny parts -- and several other actors whom we’d seen just previously in Intolerance, including Elmo Lincoln, who would later become the first screen Tarzan. The main villain, when he finally shows up, is played by Euguene Pallette, who is not a household name, but who appeared in small parts in hundreds of films, including many classics, up through the forties.
It was directed by Sydney and Chester Franklin, each of whom went on directing well into the sound era, Sydney more prominently than Chester. This film was much more pedestrian than some of the films we’ve been seeing lately -- it uses none of the visual pyrotechnics of Intolerance, for example -- but it is well-made, and probably more typical of the sort of film that was being shown at the time. It is the story of a Dutch immigrant, Gish, joining her father in America, where he works as an engraver. (Ben asked what a greenhorn was -- I told him it was an old-fashioned word for newbie.) It has some superficial similarities to The Italian, from 1915, which we watched several weeks ago. But that movie was much more melodramatic and serious. This film is not a comedy per se, but it is the kind of movie where you can be relatively sure that everything winds up well in the end. It also subscribes heavily to the melting pot idea of America -- the neighbors in their New York tenement are Irish and Italian, with various other ethnicities appearing as well. (Needless to say when people from various ethnicities begin appearing in century old films, there is always the potential for disaster, but luckily nothing rose to the “pause the film and contextualize for the children” category.) In addition to this backdrop, there is a counterfeiting plot, some gunplay, and a romance as well.
Our next film will be The Matrimaniac, our fifth and final movie from 1916. It will be the first film in which we’ll see Douglas Fairbanks as the male lead. The link to our upcoming films, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Intolerance (1916)
Originally posted to Facebook on 8/8/2016
Intolerance was the third film from 1916 we watched, and it turned into a bit of a slog. It ran three-plus hours, so we watched it over a few sessions. This was the second full-length feature by D. W. Griffith that we’ve watched, after Judith of Bethulia. Part of the reason for the extended running time is that four stories -- ostensibly thematically linked -- are presented, intercut, from four different eras: A Babylonian section set in the sixth century BC; an abbreviated story of Jesus, set when you’d expect; the story of the St. Bartholomew's day massacre, set in 16th century France; and a “modern” story, set 1916ish. The modern and Babylonian story get the majority of the running time; the other two are much shorter. Supposedly all of the stories revolve around the theme of intolerance, though the Babylonian story, for instance, just seemed like a power struggle, and some of the others seemed debatable too. I suppose any human conflict can be painted as a story of intolerance, in the sense that antagonists aren’t being tolerant of their opponents’ views. Griffith, of course, was famously intolerant himself, and is probably best known for the odious Birth of a Nation, even among people who don’t know anything else about him. Even in the context of this film, there is a scene where a woman’s reform society in the modern era is commented upon in the title cards, reading “When women cease to attract men they often turn to Reform as a second choice.” I rarely share my opinions with the kids during films (excepting, “Stop talking!” and “Get your shoes off the couch!”), but in this instance I paused the film, and expressed how reprehensible this was.
Another strange feature of the film was that many of the characters were not given names. For example the couple in the modern era were called “The Dear One” and the “The Boy.” This is perversely alienating -- perfectly understandable in, say, a Brecht or a Beckett play -- but not in a film that showed every evidence of wanting its audience to empathize with its characters. Many of the title cards were distancing as well, either written with overly purple phrasing (e.g. “The Loom of Fate weaves death for the Boy's father.”) or providing footnotes in a quasi-academic fashion (e.g. explaining who the Pharisees were, or noting the obscure fact that Judaism uses wine in many of its ceremonies.) “Jeff. Note: This is Jeff,” is how Ben mocked this latter practice. The movie also used the device of cutting back to a woman (played by Lillian Gish) rocking a cradle as a transition between scenes. I imagine this was used to emphasize the human and generational continuity between the various eras, but I feel like this point could have been made without dozens of nearly identical shots (and without the use of a rather famous actress in a non-acting role.)
But, for all the preceding, it was an impressive film in many ways, and it is clear why it has carved out a spot in film history. It is certainly leaps and bounds more interesting and entertaining than Griffith’s Judith of Bethulia, which was made just two years earlier. It takes many of the innovations -- moving cameras, intercutting, extreme close-ups -- that we’ve seen in earlier films like Cabiria, and makes more extensive use of them. In addition, the famous crane shots in front of the stairs in the Babylonian section may have some precedent in film history, but this is the earliest that I’ve seen this effect, and in context it is quite effective and jarring. It also has an enormous cast, both in terms of characters that drive the various plots, and also just in terms of the sheer number of extras in crowds or battle scenes. The two leads in the modern era -- Mae Marsh and Robert Harron -- also played a couple in Judith of Bethulia, but in supporting roles. Here they are probably the closest thing to main characters that the film has. The other competitor for that spot is the female lead in the Babylonian section, played by Constance Talmadge, whose constant mugging, though occasionally entertaining, was also a little distracting. There are also a host of other famous people playing small roles, including a number of future directors, and Douglas Fairbanks, who we’ll be seeing for the first time as a lead in a couple of weeks. Also, the actor playing Jesus (and who also played Robert E. Lee in Birth of a Nation) inspired what is probably my favorite IMDB trivia item for this film, which I’ll quote in its entirety: “Howard Gaye, an English actor who played Jesus Christ, got involved in a sex scandal involving a 14-year-old girl and was deported back to England. Because of the scandal, his name was removed from prints of the film at the time.” I feel like perhaps a more stringent screening process for potential actors to play Jesus may have been in order. (Though perhaps this was karmic retribution for being one of the few films that uses the story of Jesus as a minor subplot.)
The movie picks up considerably in the last 30-40 minutes. The intertitles and interminably rocking cradle used earlier to demarcate the switch between one time period and the next begin to disappear, and we begin to get direct cuts between time periods, trusting the audience to understand which time period is on the screen. And each of the stories are reaching their climax at that point, so you have St. Bartholomew’s massacre crosscut with the invasion of Babylon, further crosscut by a race car trying to catch up to a train in the modern portion, all of which showed that Griffith was capable of building suspense when he chose that as a priority over sharing his idiosyncratic, borderline-crackpot philosophy of life with the world.
Our next film -- the fourth of five from 1916 -- is Gretchen the Greenhorn, starring Dorothy Gish. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Intolerance was the third film from 1916 we watched, and it turned into a bit of a slog. It ran three-plus hours, so we watched it over a few sessions. This was the second full-length feature by D. W. Griffith that we’ve watched, after Judith of Bethulia. Part of the reason for the extended running time is that four stories -- ostensibly thematically linked -- are presented, intercut, from four different eras: A Babylonian section set in the sixth century BC; an abbreviated story of Jesus, set when you’d expect; the story of the St. Bartholomew's day massacre, set in 16th century France; and a “modern” story, set 1916ish. The modern and Babylonian story get the majority of the running time; the other two are much shorter. Supposedly all of the stories revolve around the theme of intolerance, though the Babylonian story, for instance, just seemed like a power struggle, and some of the others seemed debatable too. I suppose any human conflict can be painted as a story of intolerance, in the sense that antagonists aren’t being tolerant of their opponents’ views. Griffith, of course, was famously intolerant himself, and is probably best known for the odious Birth of a Nation, even among people who don’t know anything else about him. Even in the context of this film, there is a scene where a woman’s reform society in the modern era is commented upon in the title cards, reading “When women cease to attract men they often turn to Reform as a second choice.” I rarely share my opinions with the kids during films (excepting, “Stop talking!” and “Get your shoes off the couch!”), but in this instance I paused the film, and expressed how reprehensible this was.
Another strange feature of the film was that many of the characters were not given names. For example the couple in the modern era were called “The Dear One” and the “The Boy.” This is perversely alienating -- perfectly understandable in, say, a Brecht or a Beckett play -- but not in a film that showed every evidence of wanting its audience to empathize with its characters. Many of the title cards were distancing as well, either written with overly purple phrasing (e.g. “The Loom of Fate weaves death for the Boy's father.”) or providing footnotes in a quasi-academic fashion (e.g. explaining who the Pharisees were, or noting the obscure fact that Judaism uses wine in many of its ceremonies.) “Jeff. Note: This is Jeff,” is how Ben mocked this latter practice. The movie also used the device of cutting back to a woman (played by Lillian Gish) rocking a cradle as a transition between scenes. I imagine this was used to emphasize the human and generational continuity between the various eras, but I feel like this point could have been made without dozens of nearly identical shots (and without the use of a rather famous actress in a non-acting role.)
But, for all the preceding, it was an impressive film in many ways, and it is clear why it has carved out a spot in film history. It is certainly leaps and bounds more interesting and entertaining than Griffith’s Judith of Bethulia, which was made just two years earlier. It takes many of the innovations -- moving cameras, intercutting, extreme close-ups -- that we’ve seen in earlier films like Cabiria, and makes more extensive use of them. In addition, the famous crane shots in front of the stairs in the Babylonian section may have some precedent in film history, but this is the earliest that I’ve seen this effect, and in context it is quite effective and jarring. It also has an enormous cast, both in terms of characters that drive the various plots, and also just in terms of the sheer number of extras in crowds or battle scenes. The two leads in the modern era -- Mae Marsh and Robert Harron -- also played a couple in Judith of Bethulia, but in supporting roles. Here they are probably the closest thing to main characters that the film has. The other competitor for that spot is the female lead in the Babylonian section, played by Constance Talmadge, whose constant mugging, though occasionally entertaining, was also a little distracting. There are also a host of other famous people playing small roles, including a number of future directors, and Douglas Fairbanks, who we’ll be seeing for the first time as a lead in a couple of weeks. Also, the actor playing Jesus (and who also played Robert E. Lee in Birth of a Nation) inspired what is probably my favorite IMDB trivia item for this film, which I’ll quote in its entirety: “Howard Gaye, an English actor who played Jesus Christ, got involved in a sex scandal involving a 14-year-old girl and was deported back to England. Because of the scandal, his name was removed from prints of the film at the time.” I feel like perhaps a more stringent screening process for potential actors to play Jesus may have been in order. (Though perhaps this was karmic retribution for being one of the few films that uses the story of Jesus as a minor subplot.)
The movie picks up considerably in the last 30-40 minutes. The intertitles and interminably rocking cradle used earlier to demarcate the switch between one time period and the next begin to disappear, and we begin to get direct cuts between time periods, trusting the audience to understand which time period is on the screen. And each of the stories are reaching their climax at that point, so you have St. Bartholomew’s massacre crosscut with the invasion of Babylon, further crosscut by a race car trying to catch up to a train in the modern portion, all of which showed that Griffith was capable of building suspense when he chose that as a priority over sharing his idiosyncratic, borderline-crackpot philosophy of life with the world.
Our next film -- the fourth of five from 1916 -- is Gretchen the Greenhorn, starring Dorothy Gish. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Judex (1916)
Originally posted to Facebook on 7/13/2016
Judex was our second film from 1916, and it took us a little longer than planned to finish watching it. It was another serial, directed by Louis Feuillade, who also directed Fantomas. It was twelve episodes long, most in the half-hour range, plus a prologue, so it really felt a bit more like binging on a television show than watching a movie. It had a few actors in common with Fantomas, and also with Les Vampires, an intervening serial which we did not watch. One of the most entertaining things about Fantomas was how insane it was -- python-proof armor, false prosthetic arms, and various ridiculous plot twists. This serial was more level headed and sensible -- making it a better film in many ways, but with fewer signature moments. Judex (played by René Cresté) in this film is essentially a vigilante, similar in some ways to Batman (and may be somewhere in the lineage of Batman’s influences, though that’s a bit murky.) Like Batman, he operates outside of the law, but with his own moral code. He is dressed in black, and wears a cape and prominent black hat -- which is what you’d expect from this kind of proto-super hero, but it does make it a little strange that his chief accomplice is his brother Roger, who dresses in a business suit, and tags along with Judex, a weird conventional grace note to a variety of eccentric adventures -- who probably could have been eliminated from the movie entirely with minimal rewriting. Judex’s primary target is a corrupt banker named Favraux, played by Louis Leubas, who also had a prominent role in A Child of Paris, which we saw a few months back. Given the running time, there is sufficient space to flesh out an assortment of other characters, including The Licorice Kid (an Artful-Dodger-type, named, so far as we could tell, for the fact that he is never seen eating licorice), Favraux’s young grandson (played, I believe, by a little girl who compulsively kisses everyone with whom she is in a scene), an incompetent detective and his fiance (the latter showing up late in the picture and mostly seen wearing a bathing suit, whether or not the situation called for it), and the female ringleader of a gang that is trying to recover Favraux’s money, played by the single-named actress Musidora, who also played Irma Vep in Les Vampires. The movie as a whole was entertaining and polished. It was lightweight, but not as tongue-in-cheek as Fantomas.
Next week we will watch our third film from 1916: Intolerance, one of the canonical “film-school” silents, and the first D.W. Griffith film we’ve watched since 1914’s Judith of Bethulia. It is not a serial, but it is a very long film at over three hours, so I hope we’ll be able to finish it in a single weekend, but we’ll see. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Judex was our second film from 1916, and it took us a little longer than planned to finish watching it. It was another serial, directed by Louis Feuillade, who also directed Fantomas. It was twelve episodes long, most in the half-hour range, plus a prologue, so it really felt a bit more like binging on a television show than watching a movie. It had a few actors in common with Fantomas, and also with Les Vampires, an intervening serial which we did not watch. One of the most entertaining things about Fantomas was how insane it was -- python-proof armor, false prosthetic arms, and various ridiculous plot twists. This serial was more level headed and sensible -- making it a better film in many ways, but with fewer signature moments. Judex (played by René Cresté) in this film is essentially a vigilante, similar in some ways to Batman (and may be somewhere in the lineage of Batman’s influences, though that’s a bit murky.) Like Batman, he operates outside of the law, but with his own moral code. He is dressed in black, and wears a cape and prominent black hat -- which is what you’d expect from this kind of proto-super hero, but it does make it a little strange that his chief accomplice is his brother Roger, who dresses in a business suit, and tags along with Judex, a weird conventional grace note to a variety of eccentric adventures -- who probably could have been eliminated from the movie entirely with minimal rewriting. Judex’s primary target is a corrupt banker named Favraux, played by Louis Leubas, who also had a prominent role in A Child of Paris, which we saw a few months back. Given the running time, there is sufficient space to flesh out an assortment of other characters, including The Licorice Kid (an Artful-Dodger-type, named, so far as we could tell, for the fact that he is never seen eating licorice), Favraux’s young grandson (played, I believe, by a little girl who compulsively kisses everyone with whom she is in a scene), an incompetent detective and his fiance (the latter showing up late in the picture and mostly seen wearing a bathing suit, whether or not the situation called for it), and the female ringleader of a gang that is trying to recover Favraux’s money, played by the single-named actress Musidora, who also played Irma Vep in Les Vampires. The movie as a whole was entertaining and polished. It was lightweight, but not as tongue-in-cheek as Fantomas.
Next week we will watch our third film from 1916: Intolerance, one of the canonical “film-school” silents, and the first D.W. Griffith film we’ve watched since 1914’s Judith of Bethulia. It is not a serial, but it is a very long film at over three hours, so I hope we’ll be able to finish it in a single weekend, but we’ll see. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Sherlock Holmes (1916)
Originally posted to Facebook on 6/18/2016
Sherlock Holmes was the first movie we watched from 1916. The play upon which it was based was first produced in 1899, and William Gillette, the star and author, had been a playwright and actor for decades earlier. He was born in 1853, and by the time this movie was filmed he had been playing the role on stage on-and-off for almost twenty years, and would continue reviving it for another fifteen years, into the thirties. The movie itself was lost for many years, until a copy was found in 2014, so it is a minor miracle that we are able to see it. Film-wise it seems relatively modern for its time, with camera movements, and cross-cutting, and a long complex narrative, and all of the other elements that seemed pretty standard by 1916, but were extremely uncommon just five years earlier. You can see some of its stage roots in the fact that there are a large number of verbose title cards, and numerous scenes involve people having long conversations. I don’t know what changes were made to the play, but some of the plot seemed a little disjointed and bizarre. For example, at one point Alice Faulkner, the female lead, played by Marjorie Kay, is being held prisoner in a house in or near London. Holmes visits the house, figures out what is going on, and manages to speak with her, but then leaves both Alice and the criminals still at the house with nothing more than a stern warning to the criminals. They predictably ignore him. (In Holmes’ defense, Alice probably should have left the house as well at this point.) At another point, Professor Moriarty (Ernest Maupain) gets involved, and decides to do away with Holmes. His clever plan? Get Holmes alone in his house and shoot him. This is foiled because Holmes has a gun as well. If only that were something a criminal mastermind might have foreseen! The entire last quarter of the film is a little anticlimactic. The main criminals have been disposed of, but Moriarty is still at large, and is seeking revenge on Holmes with only slightly more sophistication than his earlier “break into his house and shoot him” scheme. This section actually involves Watson (played by Edward Fielding), who has been largely absent through most of the film. Holmes is seeing clients at Watson’s office, rather than at 221B Baker Street, which, we are informed in a title card, has burned down. That seems like a pretty important event to be told about as an aside, but that’s how it’s handled. Despite all of these plot issues, Gillette makes a convincing Holmes, and it is interesting to see how much of Holmes’ iconic nature was already set by 1916. There was a 1922 movie based on the play as well, starring John Barrymore, which we may possibly see if we get that far. (I also dimly remember seeing a filmed version of the play -- actually on a stage with a seated audience -- starring Frank Langella on cable in the 1980s.)
As far as I can tell neither Gillette nor Marjorie Kay ever appeared in another film. Ernest Maupain popped up in a few films up through the end of the silent era, while Edward Fielding, on the other hand, was in a handful of movies until 1940, and then somehow got on someone's list, and started playing small parts in a dozen films every year up until his death in 1945.
Next week we begin our second film from 1916, the twelve-part serial Judex. It is directed by Louis Feuillade, who also directed 1913's Fantomas, which we saw a few months ago. Like that film, this one is long enough at 300 minutes that we are going to watch it over two successive weekends. Our list of films, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Sherlock Holmes was the first movie we watched from 1916. The play upon which it was based was first produced in 1899, and William Gillette, the star and author, had been a playwright and actor for decades earlier. He was born in 1853, and by the time this movie was filmed he had been playing the role on stage on-and-off for almost twenty years, and would continue reviving it for another fifteen years, into the thirties. The movie itself was lost for many years, until a copy was found in 2014, so it is a minor miracle that we are able to see it. Film-wise it seems relatively modern for its time, with camera movements, and cross-cutting, and a long complex narrative, and all of the other elements that seemed pretty standard by 1916, but were extremely uncommon just five years earlier. You can see some of its stage roots in the fact that there are a large number of verbose title cards, and numerous scenes involve people having long conversations. I don’t know what changes were made to the play, but some of the plot seemed a little disjointed and bizarre. For example, at one point Alice Faulkner, the female lead, played by Marjorie Kay, is being held prisoner in a house in or near London. Holmes visits the house, figures out what is going on, and manages to speak with her, but then leaves both Alice and the criminals still at the house with nothing more than a stern warning to the criminals. They predictably ignore him. (In Holmes’ defense, Alice probably should have left the house as well at this point.) At another point, Professor Moriarty (Ernest Maupain) gets involved, and decides to do away with Holmes. His clever plan? Get Holmes alone in his house and shoot him. This is foiled because Holmes has a gun as well. If only that were something a criminal mastermind might have foreseen! The entire last quarter of the film is a little anticlimactic. The main criminals have been disposed of, but Moriarty is still at large, and is seeking revenge on Holmes with only slightly more sophistication than his earlier “break into his house and shoot him” scheme. This section actually involves Watson (played by Edward Fielding), who has been largely absent through most of the film. Holmes is seeing clients at Watson’s office, rather than at 221B Baker Street, which, we are informed in a title card, has burned down. That seems like a pretty important event to be told about as an aside, but that’s how it’s handled. Despite all of these plot issues, Gillette makes a convincing Holmes, and it is interesting to see how much of Holmes’ iconic nature was already set by 1916. There was a 1922 movie based on the play as well, starring John Barrymore, which we may possibly see if we get that far. (I also dimly remember seeing a filmed version of the play -- actually on a stage with a seated audience -- starring Frank Langella on cable in the 1980s.)
As far as I can tell neither Gillette nor Marjorie Kay ever appeared in another film. Ernest Maupain popped up in a few films up through the end of the silent era, while Edward Fielding, on the other hand, was in a handful of movies until 1940, and then somehow got on someone's list, and started playing small parts in a dozen films every year up until his death in 1945.
Next week we begin our second film from 1916, the twelve-part serial Judex. It is directed by Louis Feuillade, who also directed 1913's Fantomas, which we saw a few months ago. Like that film, this one is long enough at 300 minutes that we are going to watch it over two successive weekends. Our list of films, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Sunday, June 24, 2018
The Italian (1915)
Originally posted to Facebook on 6/9/2016
The Italian was our fourth and final film from 1915. It was about a young Italian couple (George Beban and Clara Williams) who emigrate to the United States, and struggle to adjust to life in New York. As I mentioned last week, I was a little worried about how stereotypical the portrayals would be, and I am happy to say that it wasn’t as bad as I expected. The male lead is not portrayed as the brightest person on the planet, and some of the title cards present his dialog in an exaggerated Italian accent, but I don’t recall anything else that was obviously objectionable. At one point an Irish politician uses a derogatory word for Italians, but it is made pretty clear that this is the character’s bigotry and not the film’s (though I would have preferred the kids’ vocabulary hadn’t been expanded in this particular fashion.) I enjoyed most of the movie, which was mainly about the day-to-day lives of the main characters, until about the last fifteen minutes when it became much more plot driven and less believable. Additionally the film began with a strangely extended and totally unnecessary scene of the lead actor opening a book called “The Italian”, and then ended with him closing it and looking contemplative. It also spends a rather long time setting up a situation in Italy that ends up being the spur for the move to the United States. On the positive side, it made repeated use of flashbacks to events that had happened earlier in the film. I don’t recall if we’ve seen this device previously or not, but we’ve certainly never seen it used this extensively. There is also an interesting shot from an arriving boat of the Statue of Liberty, which had been constructed just thirty years earlier. Interestingly there were a few untimely deaths associated with this film -- both of the leads were dead by the end of the twenties, and the writer and producer Thomas Ince famously died after a trip with Charlie Chaplin and Marion Davies on board William Hearst’s yacht. This was the subject of various conspiracy theories, and was the basis for the plot of the 2001 movie The Cat’s Meow.
Next week we begin 1916. I’ve chosen five films rather than the normal four, starting with the recently rediscovered version of Sherlock Holmes, starring William Gillette. I’ve also added films for 1917 to the list, which should take us out through mid-August. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Italian was our fourth and final film from 1915. It was about a young Italian couple (George Beban and Clara Williams) who emigrate to the United States, and struggle to adjust to life in New York. As I mentioned last week, I was a little worried about how stereotypical the portrayals would be, and I am happy to say that it wasn’t as bad as I expected. The male lead is not portrayed as the brightest person on the planet, and some of the title cards present his dialog in an exaggerated Italian accent, but I don’t recall anything else that was obviously objectionable. At one point an Irish politician uses a derogatory word for Italians, but it is made pretty clear that this is the character’s bigotry and not the film’s (though I would have preferred the kids’ vocabulary hadn’t been expanded in this particular fashion.) I enjoyed most of the movie, which was mainly about the day-to-day lives of the main characters, until about the last fifteen minutes when it became much more plot driven and less believable. Additionally the film began with a strangely extended and totally unnecessary scene of the lead actor opening a book called “The Italian”, and then ended with him closing it and looking contemplative. It also spends a rather long time setting up a situation in Italy that ends up being the spur for the move to the United States. On the positive side, it made repeated use of flashbacks to events that had happened earlier in the film. I don’t recall if we’ve seen this device previously or not, but we’ve certainly never seen it used this extensively. There is also an interesting shot from an arriving boat of the Statue of Liberty, which had been constructed just thirty years earlier. Interestingly there were a few untimely deaths associated with this film -- both of the leads were dead by the end of the twenties, and the writer and producer Thomas Ince famously died after a trip with Charlie Chaplin and Marion Davies on board William Hearst’s yacht. This was the subject of various conspiracy theories, and was the basis for the plot of the 2001 movie The Cat’s Meow.
Next week we begin 1916. I’ve chosen five films rather than the normal four, starting with the recently rediscovered version of Sherlock Holmes, starring William Gillette. I’ve also added films for 1917 to the list, which should take us out through mid-August. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Alice in Wonderland (1915)
Originally posted to Facebook on 6/3/2016
Alice in Wonderland was the third film we’ve watched from 1915, and the second adaptation of Carroll's book. Unlike the films we’ve been watching recently, this one seems to fall outside of the canonical through-line that you might encounter when reading about the history of film. Neither the director (W.W. Young) nor the star (Viola Savoy) appear to have done anything significant in the movies before or after. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an unusual story as to how and why this film was made, but if so it was beyond my researching capabilities (i.e. ten minutes of googling.) It has little or no camera movement, and surprisingly few special effects, especially for a film as suited to them as an Alice adaptation. The main visual interest lies in the costumes, which are extensive and obviously modeled on the famous Tenniel illustrations. I felt particularly sorry for the actors in the lobster costumes who had to crawl out of the ocean, possibly over multiple takes. If we had watched this film as part of our chronology from a few years earlier -- 1910 or 1911, say -- it would have stood out as being fairly innovative, for its long-form story; and for its large quantity of scenes, sets, shots, and title cards; and of course for the costumes mentioned earlier. But after Cabiria, and Regeneration, and some of the other films we’ve seen recently, it instead strikes me as a little old-fashioned. I think that’s partially influenced by our choice of films, but I think it’s also a reflection of how much films changed between 1910 and 1915. It is a fairly short film, at under an hour, and there are occasional jumps in the plot that would lead me to believe that we were seeing a somewhat incomplete version. It does a pretty good job of coherently telling the story of Alice in Wonderland -- hewing very close to the book, to a fault sometimes. (For instance I don’t think there’s any reason to memorialize a joke from the book hinging on tortoise sounding a little like “taught us.”) We watched this shortly before watching the 2010 Tim Burton Alice in Wonderland (and plan to see the sequel this weekend) and it was interesting to see all of the little parallels.
Next week we’ll watch our fourth and final film from 1915, ominously titled The Italian. When I informed the kids of the title Ben said, “I can’t wait to see how racist this one is.” I have some of the same trepidation, but it’s in the National Film registry, and the synopsis doesn’t sound too awful. I guess we’ll find out. The viewing list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Alice in Wonderland was the third film we’ve watched from 1915, and the second adaptation of Carroll's book. Unlike the films we’ve been watching recently, this one seems to fall outside of the canonical through-line that you might encounter when reading about the history of film. Neither the director (W.W. Young) nor the star (Viola Savoy) appear to have done anything significant in the movies before or after. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an unusual story as to how and why this film was made, but if so it was beyond my researching capabilities (i.e. ten minutes of googling.) It has little or no camera movement, and surprisingly few special effects, especially for a film as suited to them as an Alice adaptation. The main visual interest lies in the costumes, which are extensive and obviously modeled on the famous Tenniel illustrations. I felt particularly sorry for the actors in the lobster costumes who had to crawl out of the ocean, possibly over multiple takes. If we had watched this film as part of our chronology from a few years earlier -- 1910 or 1911, say -- it would have stood out as being fairly innovative, for its long-form story; and for its large quantity of scenes, sets, shots, and title cards; and of course for the costumes mentioned earlier. But after Cabiria, and Regeneration, and some of the other films we’ve seen recently, it instead strikes me as a little old-fashioned. I think that’s partially influenced by our choice of films, but I think it’s also a reflection of how much films changed between 1910 and 1915. It is a fairly short film, at under an hour, and there are occasional jumps in the plot that would lead me to believe that we were seeing a somewhat incomplete version. It does a pretty good job of coherently telling the story of Alice in Wonderland -- hewing very close to the book, to a fault sometimes. (For instance I don’t think there’s any reason to memorialize a joke from the book hinging on tortoise sounding a little like “taught us.”) We watched this shortly before watching the 2010 Tim Burton Alice in Wonderland (and plan to see the sequel this weekend) and it was interesting to see all of the little parallels.
Next week we’ll watch our fourth and final film from 1915, ominously titled The Italian. When I informed the kids of the title Ben said, “I can’t wait to see how racist this one is.” I have some of the same trepidation, but it’s in the National Film registry, and the synopsis doesn’t sound too awful. I guess we’ll find out. The viewing list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Carmen (1915)
Originally posted to Facebook on 5/24/2016
We had a busy weekend two weeks ago, so we didn’t get around to watching our second film from 1915 until this last weekend. The film we watched was Carmen, and it is the first movie we’ve seen directed by Cecil B. DeMille. Like Raoul Walsh from the previous week, DeMille had a long career in both the silent and sound era, including Cleopatra (1934), and The Ten Commandments -- both the silent version in 1923, and the 1956 version with Charlton Heston that used to be shown every year on TV. DeMille also had a memorable role as himself in Sunset Boulevard. However, unlike Raoul Walsh, he is probably more identified with his earlier, silent work than his later films.
There were two versions of Carmen released in 1915, as well as a parody (or “burlesque”) by Charlie Chaplin. The other non-parody was coincidentally directed by Raoul Walsh, but it is now lost. This film was based roughly on the opera, and its lead, Geraldine Farrar, was a famous opera singer. The backing music on our DVD was taken from the opera as well, and, although I know very little about opera, it is well-known enough that I recognized several pieces. The movie was fairly short, lasting about an hour, so the pacing was brisk. It is set in Spain approximately 200 years ago (i.e. 100 years before the movie was made) The plot concerns a group of gypsy smugglers (portrayed as always with nuanced sensitivity), including Carmen, and a town guard (played by Wallace Reid) that gets mixed up with them. Without spoiling anything, I will just say that it does not end well. Like our previous film from 1915, I don’t think I could really recommend this to a general audience, but we do seem to be in a run of films that are at least competently made and able to tell a coherent story.
Next week we will watch our third film from 1915, a version of Alice in Wonderland. We had previously seen a ten minute version from 1903, but films have totally changed in those twelve years, so I’m expecting a far more sophisticated version this time around.
Our list of upcoming films is shown here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
We had a busy weekend two weeks ago, so we didn’t get around to watching our second film from 1915 until this last weekend. The film we watched was Carmen, and it is the first movie we’ve seen directed by Cecil B. DeMille. Like Raoul Walsh from the previous week, DeMille had a long career in both the silent and sound era, including Cleopatra (1934), and The Ten Commandments -- both the silent version in 1923, and the 1956 version with Charlton Heston that used to be shown every year on TV. DeMille also had a memorable role as himself in Sunset Boulevard. However, unlike Raoul Walsh, he is probably more identified with his earlier, silent work than his later films.
There were two versions of Carmen released in 1915, as well as a parody (or “burlesque”) by Charlie Chaplin. The other non-parody was coincidentally directed by Raoul Walsh, but it is now lost. This film was based roughly on the opera, and its lead, Geraldine Farrar, was a famous opera singer. The backing music on our DVD was taken from the opera as well, and, although I know very little about opera, it is well-known enough that I recognized several pieces. The movie was fairly short, lasting about an hour, so the pacing was brisk. It is set in Spain approximately 200 years ago (i.e. 100 years before the movie was made) The plot concerns a group of gypsy smugglers (portrayed as always with nuanced sensitivity), including Carmen, and a town guard (played by Wallace Reid) that gets mixed up with them. Without spoiling anything, I will just say that it does not end well. Like our previous film from 1915, I don’t think I could really recommend this to a general audience, but we do seem to be in a run of films that are at least competently made and able to tell a coherent story.
Next week we will watch our third film from 1915, a version of Alice in Wonderland. We had previously seen a ten minute version from 1903, but films have totally changed in those twelve years, so I’m expecting a far more sophisticated version this time around.
Our list of upcoming films is shown here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Regeneration (1915)
Originally posted to Facebook on 5/12/2016
This week we watched Regeneration, our first film from 1915. It was directed by Raoul Walsh, who had a long career in both the silent and sound eras. He was a protégé of D. W. Griffith, and played John Wilkes Booth in Birth of a Nation. He directed, among many other films, The Thief of Bagdad (1924), The Roaring Twenties (1940), White Heat (1949), and continued directing up through the 1960s. The list of famous actors he worked with is too long to list, but it includes a few who are still alive today -- for example Olivia de Havilland, Sidney Poitier, and Joan Collins.
This particular film was his first, and it shows the continuing evolution of the movies. The type of camera movement that we first saw in Cabiria last week is used in this film as well, although a little less extensively. It also has an increased amount of cutting and cross-cutting. The plot concerns a young boy who is orphaned, and has a rough upbringing, on the streets and in abusive households. He grows up to be a young gang leader (played as an adult by Rockliffe Fellowes), but falls in love with a well-to-do social worker (played by Anna Q. Nilsson), and begins to feel divided loyalties. Some of the plot elements reminded me a bit of The Town, though that was a much more modern and textured film. I’m not sure I could quite say that this is a good movie. It is certainly melodramatic at times, but I enjoyed it more than some of the other films we’ve seen recently. It has a grittiness we haven’t seen before -- though A Child of Paris had a certain grittiness too (and also excepting Traffic in Souls which we had to stop watching after ten minutes.) Certainly seeing a film set in more-or-less contemporary times, as opposed to historical epics, gives it a greater immediacy. I also thought that the matter-of-fact depiction of the brutality of city life for people unfortunate enough to fall between the cracks was well portrayed.
Next week we move onto Carmen, our second film of 1915. It’s directed by Cecil B. DeMille, another director with a long career than spanned the silent and sound era. It will be the first film of his that we’ve seen. The link to our viewing plan is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
This week we watched Regeneration, our first film from 1915. It was directed by Raoul Walsh, who had a long career in both the silent and sound eras. He was a protégé of D. W. Griffith, and played John Wilkes Booth in Birth of a Nation. He directed, among many other films, The Thief of Bagdad (1924), The Roaring Twenties (1940), White Heat (1949), and continued directing up through the 1960s. The list of famous actors he worked with is too long to list, but it includes a few who are still alive today -- for example Olivia de Havilland, Sidney Poitier, and Joan Collins.
This particular film was his first, and it shows the continuing evolution of the movies. The type of camera movement that we first saw in Cabiria last week is used in this film as well, although a little less extensively. It also has an increased amount of cutting and cross-cutting. The plot concerns a young boy who is orphaned, and has a rough upbringing, on the streets and in abusive households. He grows up to be a young gang leader (played as an adult by Rockliffe Fellowes), but falls in love with a well-to-do social worker (played by Anna Q. Nilsson), and begins to feel divided loyalties. Some of the plot elements reminded me a bit of The Town, though that was a much more modern and textured film. I’m not sure I could quite say that this is a good movie. It is certainly melodramatic at times, but I enjoyed it more than some of the other films we’ve seen recently. It has a grittiness we haven’t seen before -- though A Child of Paris had a certain grittiness too (and also excepting Traffic in Souls which we had to stop watching after ten minutes.) Certainly seeing a film set in more-or-less contemporary times, as opposed to historical epics, gives it a greater immediacy. I also thought that the matter-of-fact depiction of the brutality of city life for people unfortunate enough to fall between the cracks was well portrayed.
Next week we move onto Carmen, our second film of 1915. It’s directed by Cecil B. DeMille, another director with a long career than spanned the silent and sound era. It will be the first film of his that we’ve seen. The link to our viewing plan is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Sunday, June 17, 2018
Cabiria (1914)
Originally posted to Facebook on 5/4/2016
Cabiria was our final film from 1914, and, I believe, the third ancient historical epic we’ve seen, after The Last Days of Pompeii and Judith of Bethulia. Like The Last Days of Pompeii this was an Italian film, and had at least one actor in common with that film. It is most famous for its use of a moving camera. After all of the other silent features and shorts that we’ve seen over the last several months, in which camera motion was limited to an occasional pan, or a camera fixed to a train or other moving vehicle, it was truly jarring to see the camera zoom into a scene or glide from one part of the set to another. I don’t know how quickly this was adopted by the movie industry at large -- even today a lot of films are rather static -- but one can only imagine how electrifying it was to audiences at the time. The storytelling itself was not as anywhere near as innovative, but it was an improvement on the previous two epics of its kind that we’d seen. Like The Last Days of Pompeii, this movie also featured an exploding volcano -- Etna this time -- and the collapsing buildings and general destruction were similar to the earlier film, but more extensive and convincing. The sets in general were also more lavish, including particularly the temple of Moloch. The sacrificing of struggling children one-by-one, with the priest throwing them into an oven set into the belly of a demon statue was surprisingly decadent and dark. (The prayers to Moloch referred to him as a great devil and used other insulting terms, which the kids pointed out was perhaps not the best way to win his favor, regardless of how many delicious children you sacrifice to him.) Alli must have just had a unit in school about Greek architecture, because she pointed out various columns and identified them as Doric or Ionic. At one point there were two columns carved into the shape of giant cats. I asked her what type of columns those were. “Ionic,” she said. “Anytime it’s carved into something, it’s Ionic.”
Sad to say, there were a number of characters representing various ethnicities who were played by actors who had darkened their skin. This was fairly distracting, and required periodic pausing of the TV to provide explanations to the kids. At another point a greedy and cowardly innkeeper has what appears to be Hebrew lettering outside of his inn, indicating that this was probably supposed to be a negative Jewish portrayal. The plot was also at times a little confusing, and the title cards were overly verbose, and often written in a weird high-flown poetic style that was not always clear. The movie’s namesake, Cabiria, is a little girl who is separated from her Roman parents at an early age, and ends up with the Carthaginians. She, however, does not get much screen time, and her story is interrupted with other plot arcs, and a fair amount of overly detailed geopolitics. At one point Hannibal’s elephants are shown, and at another Archimedes makes an unexpected appearance with his ship-burning mirrors. (Though who better than Archimedes to send the movie off onto a tangent?)
So, anyway, that concludes 1914 for us. In the real world WW1 was just beginning, but we’ve seen no reference to that in any film to date. I imagine we’ll see it soon. Next week we begin 1915 with Regeneration, an early gangster feature -- some claim it as the first -- directed by Raoul Walsh, who went on to direct many famous films well into the sound era. I’ve also added films from 1916 to the spreadsheet, which is shared here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Cabiria was our final film from 1914, and, I believe, the third ancient historical epic we’ve seen, after The Last Days of Pompeii and Judith of Bethulia. Like The Last Days of Pompeii this was an Italian film, and had at least one actor in common with that film. It is most famous for its use of a moving camera. After all of the other silent features and shorts that we’ve seen over the last several months, in which camera motion was limited to an occasional pan, or a camera fixed to a train or other moving vehicle, it was truly jarring to see the camera zoom into a scene or glide from one part of the set to another. I don’t know how quickly this was adopted by the movie industry at large -- even today a lot of films are rather static -- but one can only imagine how electrifying it was to audiences at the time. The storytelling itself was not as anywhere near as innovative, but it was an improvement on the previous two epics of its kind that we’d seen. Like The Last Days of Pompeii, this movie also featured an exploding volcano -- Etna this time -- and the collapsing buildings and general destruction were similar to the earlier film, but more extensive and convincing. The sets in general were also more lavish, including particularly the temple of Moloch. The sacrificing of struggling children one-by-one, with the priest throwing them into an oven set into the belly of a demon statue was surprisingly decadent and dark. (The prayers to Moloch referred to him as a great devil and used other insulting terms, which the kids pointed out was perhaps not the best way to win his favor, regardless of how many delicious children you sacrifice to him.) Alli must have just had a unit in school about Greek architecture, because she pointed out various columns and identified them as Doric or Ionic. At one point there were two columns carved into the shape of giant cats. I asked her what type of columns those were. “Ionic,” she said. “Anytime it’s carved into something, it’s Ionic.”
Sad to say, there were a number of characters representing various ethnicities who were played by actors who had darkened their skin. This was fairly distracting, and required periodic pausing of the TV to provide explanations to the kids. At another point a greedy and cowardly innkeeper has what appears to be Hebrew lettering outside of his inn, indicating that this was probably supposed to be a negative Jewish portrayal. The plot was also at times a little confusing, and the title cards were overly verbose, and often written in a weird high-flown poetic style that was not always clear. The movie’s namesake, Cabiria, is a little girl who is separated from her Roman parents at an early age, and ends up with the Carthaginians. She, however, does not get much screen time, and her story is interrupted with other plot arcs, and a fair amount of overly detailed geopolitics. At one point Hannibal’s elephants are shown, and at another Archimedes makes an unexpected appearance with his ship-burning mirrors. (Though who better than Archimedes to send the movie off onto a tangent?)
So, anyway, that concludes 1914 for us. In the real world WW1 was just beginning, but we’ve seen no reference to that in any film to date. I imagine we’ll see it soon. Next week we begin 1915 with Regeneration, an early gangster feature -- some claim it as the first -- directed by Raoul Walsh, who went on to direct many famous films well into the sound era. I’ve also added films from 1916 to the spreadsheet, which is shared here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Tillie’s Punctured Romance (1914)
Originally posted to Facebook on 4/29/2016
Tillie’s Punctured Romance was our third film from 1914. It is claimed that this was the first feature-length comedy, and would therefore also be the first feature film of many of the comedians present, including Chaplin. It is definitely the first film we’ve seen that contained a significant number of people that are still somewhat famous today. Charlie Chaplin, of course, is the most famous, but it also contained Marie Dressler, who starred in many silent films, and had a resurgence in popularity in early sound films twenty years later, winning an Oscar for Best Actress, and being nominated for another. Also present was Mabel Normand, who was a popular silent star, and Edgar Kennedy, who I remember as the food vendor tormented by Harpo and Chico in Duck Soup, but who also appeared in many films up through the forties. However, this assemblage of talent sadly does not result in anything very funny. There were a few moments where I smiled, such as when people were throwing bricks at one another, or when Chaplin slapped a newspaper boy, but in general it is full of people chasing each other, and falling down and knocking each other over, to such an extent that it becomes monotonous. Chaplin does not play his Tramp character, though he looks somewhat similar. Instead he plays a character given in IMDB as “The City Stranger,” who woos Marie Dressler because he thinks she is rich. Mabel Normand plays his actual pre-existing girlfriend, who is not terribly happy about the whole situation. Marie Dressler is also not happy when she finds out that Chaplin already has a girlfriend. They both express their frustration via violent and repetitive slapstick. So, anyway, something of a disappointment. On the plus side, the film print was bright and clear, which was the first time that’s been true for a couple of weeks. Also, I liked the title -- even without knowing you’d almost guess that “Tillie’s Punctured Romance” was a silent movie title, or failing that a single by The Decemberists.
Next week we watch our final film from 1914: Cabiria, which apparently was one of the first films where camera movements beyond simple pans began to be used routinely. The spreadsheet, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Tillie’s Punctured Romance was our third film from 1914. It is claimed that this was the first feature-length comedy, and would therefore also be the first feature film of many of the comedians present, including Chaplin. It is definitely the first film we’ve seen that contained a significant number of people that are still somewhat famous today. Charlie Chaplin, of course, is the most famous, but it also contained Marie Dressler, who starred in many silent films, and had a resurgence in popularity in early sound films twenty years later, winning an Oscar for Best Actress, and being nominated for another. Also present was Mabel Normand, who was a popular silent star, and Edgar Kennedy, who I remember as the food vendor tormented by Harpo and Chico in Duck Soup, but who also appeared in many films up through the forties. However, this assemblage of talent sadly does not result in anything very funny. There were a few moments where I smiled, such as when people were throwing bricks at one another, or when Chaplin slapped a newspaper boy, but in general it is full of people chasing each other, and falling down and knocking each other over, to such an extent that it becomes monotonous. Chaplin does not play his Tramp character, though he looks somewhat similar. Instead he plays a character given in IMDB as “The City Stranger,” who woos Marie Dressler because he thinks she is rich. Mabel Normand plays his actual pre-existing girlfriend, who is not terribly happy about the whole situation. Marie Dressler is also not happy when she finds out that Chaplin already has a girlfriend. They both express their frustration via violent and repetitive slapstick. So, anyway, something of a disappointment. On the plus side, the film print was bright and clear, which was the first time that’s been true for a couple of weeks. Also, I liked the title -- even without knowing you’d almost guess that “Tillie’s Punctured Romance” was a silent movie title, or failing that a single by The Decemberists.
Next week we watch our final film from 1914: Cabiria, which apparently was one of the first films where camera movements beyond simple pans began to be used routinely. The spreadsheet, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Perils of Pauline (1914)
Originally posted to Facebook on 4/25/2016
Peril of Pauline was our second film from 1914. It took a little longer for us to watch than planned. It was almost three and a half hours, broken up into nine episodes, so we watched several episodes last weekend, and then watched the remaining ones in the evening throughout the week. The plot was actually rather similar to The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs, which we watched a month or so back. Pauline (Pearl White) is the ward of Koerner (Paul Panzer), and has a large inheritance, which he presumably would keep were she to die. So he engineers various schemes to kill her. However unlike The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs, which handled this situation with some vague ambitions of naturalism, The Perils of Pauline uses it strictly as plot device for a series of tongue-in-cheek adventure stories. It is worth noting that the version we watched -- the only surviving version -- is significantly different from the one audiences saw in 1914. Originally it was almost seven hours long, broken up into twenty episodes. The version that we saw was re-edited down to nine for the European market in 1916. The structure was episodic though, so there is no great loss in continuity, but the print we saw is not in the greatest shape, and the speed at times was not adjusted properly, so action on the screen was often too fast. On top of that, The Perils of Pauline was marred by intermittent negative portrayals of various ethnic groups. Episode 2 had Pauline menaced by Native Americans, who are depicted as primitive and superstitious. In episode 3 Harry (Pauline’s fiance, played by Crane Wilbur) disguises himself by darkening his skin. In episode 5 and then later in episode 8 Koerner works with a group of malevolent gypsies to murder Pauline. All of this subtracted from the experience of watching the film, and Ben particularly was pretty vocal about how terrible the Native American episode was. All in all, Fantomas -- which is probably our most natural reference point for comparison, being the only other serial we’ve watched -- was superior in many ways, in that it had a clearer print, appropriately adjusted speed, and a refreshing lack of ethnic slurs.
The two serials were different in other ways as well. For instance, while both films were equally ridiculous and tongue-in-cheek, the approach in Fantomas was largely deadpan, whereas in Perils of Pauline everyone is openly enjoying the romp. Also, the stunts in Perils of Pauline were quite extensive in a way that wasn’t true in Fantomas -- there is an airplane crash, people climbing down a rope from a hot air balloon, car crashes, horses tumbling over with riders, and a variety of other dangerous looking action. Presumably at this time period a large fraction of it was probably achieved by putting people in real danger. There is also a brief striking shot taken from an airplane, showing the ground below, including a moving train. (Keep in mind the airplane had just been invented ten years earlier.) I can’t really recommend this film, but one can see how the light tone and the stunt-work might have contributed to its popularity. Trivia: Louis J. Gasnier, one of the two directors, directed some of the early Max Linder shorts, and later in his career directed Reefer Madness.
This next item on the list is our third film from 1914: Tillie’s Punctured Romance, which is the first film in which we’ll see Charlie Chaplin, as well as a bunch of other early comedy stars. The spreadsheet, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Peril of Pauline was our second film from 1914. It took a little longer for us to watch than planned. It was almost three and a half hours, broken up into nine episodes, so we watched several episodes last weekend, and then watched the remaining ones in the evening throughout the week. The plot was actually rather similar to The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs, which we watched a month or so back. Pauline (Pearl White) is the ward of Koerner (Paul Panzer), and has a large inheritance, which he presumably would keep were she to die. So he engineers various schemes to kill her. However unlike The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs, which handled this situation with some vague ambitions of naturalism, The Perils of Pauline uses it strictly as plot device for a series of tongue-in-cheek adventure stories. It is worth noting that the version we watched -- the only surviving version -- is significantly different from the one audiences saw in 1914. Originally it was almost seven hours long, broken up into twenty episodes. The version that we saw was re-edited down to nine for the European market in 1916. The structure was episodic though, so there is no great loss in continuity, but the print we saw is not in the greatest shape, and the speed at times was not adjusted properly, so action on the screen was often too fast. On top of that, The Perils of Pauline was marred by intermittent negative portrayals of various ethnic groups. Episode 2 had Pauline menaced by Native Americans, who are depicted as primitive and superstitious. In episode 3 Harry (Pauline’s fiance, played by Crane Wilbur) disguises himself by darkening his skin. In episode 5 and then later in episode 8 Koerner works with a group of malevolent gypsies to murder Pauline. All of this subtracted from the experience of watching the film, and Ben particularly was pretty vocal about how terrible the Native American episode was. All in all, Fantomas -- which is probably our most natural reference point for comparison, being the only other serial we’ve watched -- was superior in many ways, in that it had a clearer print, appropriately adjusted speed, and a refreshing lack of ethnic slurs.
The two serials were different in other ways as well. For instance, while both films were equally ridiculous and tongue-in-cheek, the approach in Fantomas was largely deadpan, whereas in Perils of Pauline everyone is openly enjoying the romp. Also, the stunts in Perils of Pauline were quite extensive in a way that wasn’t true in Fantomas -- there is an airplane crash, people climbing down a rope from a hot air balloon, car crashes, horses tumbling over with riders, and a variety of other dangerous looking action. Presumably at this time period a large fraction of it was probably achieved by putting people in real danger. There is also a brief striking shot taken from an airplane, showing the ground below, including a moving train. (Keep in mind the airplane had just been invented ten years earlier.) I can’t really recommend this film, but one can see how the light tone and the stunt-work might have contributed to its popularity. Trivia: Louis J. Gasnier, one of the two directors, directed some of the early Max Linder shorts, and later in his career directed Reefer Madness.
This next item on the list is our third film from 1914: Tillie’s Punctured Romance, which is the first film in which we’ll see Charlie Chaplin, as well as a bunch of other early comedy stars. The spreadsheet, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Judith of Bethulia (1914)
Originally posted to Facebook on 4/13/2016
This week we watched our first film from 1914: Judith of Bethulia. It was D.W. Griffith’s first feature length film, and starred Blanche Sweet in the title role. Lillian and Dorothy Gish were also in the film, but in very small roles. Unfortunately the copy we saw played a little faster than it should have, which was a bit distracting, and in addition was not the greatest print in the world. The movie itself was a biblical epic, somewhat in the vein of The Last Days of Pompeii, but on a slightly smaller scale. The story involved the town of Bethulia besieged by the Assyrians, and Judith (of Bethulia) deciding to go to the enemy camp and somehow trick or convince Prince Holofernes (the military leader of the Assyrians, played by Henry B. Walthall) to relent. The movie lasts about an hour, but still feels padded. Judith, for instance, somehow acquires feeling for Holofernes (although nothing on screen makes that particularly plausible) and spends some screen time agonizing on whether to “betray” him. Also, two secondary characters -- Naomi and Nathan, played by Mae Marsh and Robert Harron -- are introduced, and then basically disappear for most of the film. There is also lots of ostensibly (but not very) decadent dancing before Holofernes, which after about the third appearance got a little tedious. Of course, it is quite possible that the film we saw is a somewhat butchered version of the original, but judging on what we viewed, it is not anywhere near as good as the shorts we saw from Griffith a few months ago, nor as good as some of the other features we’ve been seeing recently. The kids were a little surprised by the climactic scene (which I won’t spoil, in case someone is right in the middle of the Septuagint), so at least that moment still has something to recommend it. The kids also didn’t ask any questions when the prince assigned his “chief eunuch” to Judith, and I didn’t volunteer an explanation.
Next week we’ll watch The Perils of Pauline, which was a serial from 1914. It’s not quite as long as Fantomas though, and we hope to cover it in a single weekend. The list of our upcoming films is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
This week we watched our first film from 1914: Judith of Bethulia. It was D.W. Griffith’s first feature length film, and starred Blanche Sweet in the title role. Lillian and Dorothy Gish were also in the film, but in very small roles. Unfortunately the copy we saw played a little faster than it should have, which was a bit distracting, and in addition was not the greatest print in the world. The movie itself was a biblical epic, somewhat in the vein of The Last Days of Pompeii, but on a slightly smaller scale. The story involved the town of Bethulia besieged by the Assyrians, and Judith (of Bethulia) deciding to go to the enemy camp and somehow trick or convince Prince Holofernes (the military leader of the Assyrians, played by Henry B. Walthall) to relent. The movie lasts about an hour, but still feels padded. Judith, for instance, somehow acquires feeling for Holofernes (although nothing on screen makes that particularly plausible) and spends some screen time agonizing on whether to “betray” him. Also, two secondary characters -- Naomi and Nathan, played by Mae Marsh and Robert Harron -- are introduced, and then basically disappear for most of the film. There is also lots of ostensibly (but not very) decadent dancing before Holofernes, which after about the third appearance got a little tedious. Of course, it is quite possible that the film we saw is a somewhat butchered version of the original, but judging on what we viewed, it is not anywhere near as good as the shorts we saw from Griffith a few months ago, nor as good as some of the other features we’ve been seeing recently. The kids were a little surprised by the climactic scene (which I won’t spoil, in case someone is right in the middle of the Septuagint), so at least that moment still has something to recommend it. The kids also didn’t ask any questions when the prince assigned his “chief eunuch” to Judith, and I didn’t volunteer an explanation.
Next week we’ll watch The Perils of Pauline, which was a serial from 1914. It’s not quite as long as Fantomas though, and we hope to cover it in a single weekend. The list of our upcoming films is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Thursday, June 7, 2018
Ingeborg Holm (1913)
Originally posted to Facebook on 4/4/2016
We finished off 1913 in our chronological movie viewing with Ingeborg Holm. This film was directed by Victor Sjöström (later Victor Seastrom after moving to Hollywood.) He directed many other famous films, including The Phantom Carriage, He Who Gets Slapped, and The Wind, and also was the lead actor in Ingmar Bergman’s Wild Strawberries in 1958. But that was almost half-a-century after he directed this film, which is probably the most naturalistic we’ve seen to date. The plot revolves around the title character (played by Hilda Borgström), whose husband has just taken out a loan to open a general store. Unfortunately he falls ill and dies a few scenes after prominently coughing, and she loses everything and is forced to enter a workhouse, and place her children into foster homes. And then things get worse from there. (“I hope this never happens to us,” said Alli.) It’s played less sentimentally than it sounds, at least through the first three-quarters, and is probably the best film we’ve seen from 1913 (though the first few episodes of Fantomas were more entertaining.)
Next week we start 1914 with D.W. Griffith’s first full-length feature: Judith of Bethulia. I’ve also added a slate of films representing 1915 to the spreadsheet, which takes us out through late May. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
We finished off 1913 in our chronological movie viewing with Ingeborg Holm. This film was directed by Victor Sjöström (later Victor Seastrom after moving to Hollywood.) He directed many other famous films, including The Phantom Carriage, He Who Gets Slapped, and The Wind, and also was the lead actor in Ingmar Bergman’s Wild Strawberries in 1958. But that was almost half-a-century after he directed this film, which is probably the most naturalistic we’ve seen to date. The plot revolves around the title character (played by Hilda Borgström), whose husband has just taken out a loan to open a general store. Unfortunately he falls ill and dies a few scenes after prominently coughing, and she loses everything and is forced to enter a workhouse, and place her children into foster homes. And then things get worse from there. (“I hope this never happens to us,” said Alli.) It’s played less sentimentally than it sounds, at least through the first three-quarters, and is probably the best film we’ve seen from 1913 (though the first few episodes of Fantomas were more entertaining.)
Next week we start 1914 with D.W. Griffith’s first full-length feature: Judith of Bethulia. I’ve also added a slate of films representing 1915 to the spreadsheet, which takes us out through late May. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Sunday, June 3, 2018
The Last Days of Pompeii (1913)
Originally posted to Facebook on 3/29/2016
The Last Days of Pompeii was the third film from 1913 that we watched as part of our chronological movie viewing. As you might guess from the title, it was set in the Roman Empire in 79 AD, approximately 1,950 years ago (but only ~1,850 years from when the film was made), and was the first historical costume feature of this type we’ve seen -- though at this early stage, almost every film we see is a “first” of some sort or other. It has several largish Roman sets, and although there were some painted backgrounds, they seemed intended, if not actually to fool the eye, at least to be unobtrusive, rather than a Méliès-like upfront theatrical artifice. Some of the climactic scenes, when Pompeii was (spoiler!) being destroyed, were reasonably impressive as spectacle, with columns collapsing on people, and lots of panicked extras. There were also scenes in a gladiatorial arena with actors interacting with what were clearly real lions, showing that when CGI is not available one can easily achieve the same effect with nothing more than a callous disregard for human life. Overall the film was quite melodramatic, and it seemed like a bit of a waste of the dramatic period setting to have everything boil down to a love triangle, but one can see the filmmakers reaching towards a certain type of epic template.
Next week we’ll watch our final film from 1913: Ingeborg Holm. The viewing spreadsheet is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Last Days of Pompeii was the third film from 1913 that we watched as part of our chronological movie viewing. As you might guess from the title, it was set in the Roman Empire in 79 AD, approximately 1,950 years ago (but only ~1,850 years from when the film was made), and was the first historical costume feature of this type we’ve seen -- though at this early stage, almost every film we see is a “first” of some sort or other. It has several largish Roman sets, and although there were some painted backgrounds, they seemed intended, if not actually to fool the eye, at least to be unobtrusive, rather than a Méliès-like upfront theatrical artifice. Some of the climactic scenes, when Pompeii was (spoiler!) being destroyed, were reasonably impressive as spectacle, with columns collapsing on people, and lots of panicked extras. There were also scenes in a gladiatorial arena with actors interacting with what were clearly real lions, showing that when CGI is not available one can easily achieve the same effect with nothing more than a callous disregard for human life. Overall the film was quite melodramatic, and it seemed like a bit of a waste of the dramatic period setting to have everything boil down to a love triangle, but one can see the filmmakers reaching towards a certain type of epic template.
Next week we’ll watch our final film from 1913: Ingeborg Holm. The viewing spreadsheet is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Fantomas (1913)
Originally posted to Facebook on 3/23/2016
We continued our chronological movie watching with Fantomas, our second film from 1913. This was a serial, with five parts, each hovering somewhere between an hour and ninety minute. We watched them over two weekends. It was produced at Gaumont, the same studio as Child of Paris and Mystery of the Kador Cliffs, and was directed by Louis Feuillade. The movie takes its name from its central character, a criminal mastermind played by René Navarre, who is being hunted by Juve (Edmund Breon), a police detective, and Fandor (Georges Melchior), a journalist. It was extremely tongue-in-cheek, but not entirely a comedy. It’s difficult to explain the tone without spoilers, so let me give just one: Early on in the serial, Juve and Fandor have apprehended Fantomas at a restaurant. He agrees to come with with them, and gets his coat from the coat check. They walk out, Juve and Fandor each holding an arm. After walking a few blocks, Fantomas breaks free and runs off, leaving Juve and Fandor each holding a fake prosthetic arm that he’d apparently inserted into his coat as they were leaving. Fantomas eventually winds up back at the restaurant to finish his meal. One more: Juve is aware that Fantomas is going to try to murder him in his sleep, so he has Fandor hide in his bedroom. During the night, a car pulls up outside, and a python slithers out and into Juve’s bedroom via a window. After Fandor and Juve fight off the python, it flees back out of the window, and gets back in the car, which then drives off. Did I mention that Juve somehow suspected a python would be involved and wore a python-resistant suit in preparation? I shouldn’t give the idea that the serial is made up of non-stop nonsense. There’s a lot of procedural cat-and-mouse type action, and also lots of people dressing up in various disguises. But it is definitely interspersed with bizarre cliffhangers and escapes. It did peter out a little toward the end, in part because the fifth episode has not completely survived, and title cards explaining missing action have been added to compensate.
Next week we’ll watch our third film from 1913: The Last Days of Pompeii. The full list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
We continued our chronological movie watching with Fantomas, our second film from 1913. This was a serial, with five parts, each hovering somewhere between an hour and ninety minute. We watched them over two weekends. It was produced at Gaumont, the same studio as Child of Paris and Mystery of the Kador Cliffs, and was directed by Louis Feuillade. The movie takes its name from its central character, a criminal mastermind played by René Navarre, who is being hunted by Juve (Edmund Breon), a police detective, and Fandor (Georges Melchior), a journalist. It was extremely tongue-in-cheek, but not entirely a comedy. It’s difficult to explain the tone without spoilers, so let me give just one: Early on in the serial, Juve and Fandor have apprehended Fantomas at a restaurant. He agrees to come with with them, and gets his coat from the coat check. They walk out, Juve and Fandor each holding an arm. After walking a few blocks, Fantomas breaks free and runs off, leaving Juve and Fandor each holding a fake prosthetic arm that he’d apparently inserted into his coat as they were leaving. Fantomas eventually winds up back at the restaurant to finish his meal. One more: Juve is aware that Fantomas is going to try to murder him in his sleep, so he has Fandor hide in his bedroom. During the night, a car pulls up outside, and a python slithers out and into Juve’s bedroom via a window. After Fandor and Juve fight off the python, it flees back out of the window, and gets back in the car, which then drives off. Did I mention that Juve somehow suspected a python would be involved and wore a python-resistant suit in preparation? I shouldn’t give the idea that the serial is made up of non-stop nonsense. There’s a lot of procedural cat-and-mouse type action, and also lots of people dressing up in various disguises. But it is definitely interspersed with bizarre cliffhangers and escapes. It did peter out a little toward the end, in part because the fifth episode has not completely survived, and title cards explaining missing action have been added to compensate.
Next week we’ll watch our third film from 1913: The Last Days of Pompeii. The full list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Traffic in Souls (1913)
Originally posted to Facebook on 3/16/2016
Update on our chronological movie watching: Last week we sat down to watch Traffic in Souls. I knew vaguely that it was about a prostitution ring, but I wasn't aware how explicit it was. Members of the ring were actively recruiting vulnerable young girls, meeting them as they came off of boats, or elsewhere in the city. After about the first ten minutes, I decided to pull the plug, because there's only so much you can explain to an eight year old. We switched to Fantomas, which we'd planned to start watching the subsequent week. Fantomas is a serial, and is about 300 minutes long in its entirety, so we're watching it over two weekends. To replace Traffic in Souls for 1913 I added Ingeborg Holm, which we'll watch in early April. The updated list is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Update on our chronological movie watching: Last week we sat down to watch Traffic in Souls. I knew vaguely that it was about a prostitution ring, but I wasn't aware how explicit it was. Members of the ring were actively recruiting vulnerable young girls, meeting them as they came off of boats, or elsewhere in the city. After about the first ten minutes, I decided to pull the plug, because there's only so much you can explain to an eight year old. We switched to Fantomas, which we'd planned to start watching the subsequent week. Fantomas is a serial, and is about 300 minutes long in its entirety, so we're watching it over two weekends. To replace Traffic in Souls for 1913 I added Ingeborg Holm, which we'll watch in early April. The updated list is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Child of Paris (1913)
Originally posted to Facebook on 3/7/2016
On Sunday we continued our chronological movie watching, and saw our first film from 1913: The Child of Paris. This was also what I would consider our first real feature film, though by some accounts the film we saw two weeks ago, Richard III, was a feature film because it had five reels. A Child of Paris, though, was a full two hours, more than twice as long as Richard III, and certainly a feature film by any definition.
This movie was directed by Léonce Perret, who also directed last week’s The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs. The two movies had a few cast members in common, and I believe a set was re-used as well. The plot involved a little girl whose father is called away to military service and later reported dead. Her mother then dies, and her uncle, with whom she’d been living, is called away to military service as well. She’s sent to a boarding school, where she is treated poorly, and from which she runs away. While we were watching, I mentioned the similarities to A Little Princess, and Ben mentioned Oliver Twist as an antecedent as well.
I can’t say this was the most engaging movie I’ve ever seen, but it held my interest. From a movie making perspective, there were a number of camera pans, including from one room to an adjacent room. Also, although there were no close-ups that I recall -- except of written letters -- there were some cuts from long shots to medium shots, which I don’t recall seeing before. Another interesting note was that the movie unselfconsciously depicts 1913 as a time when horse-carriages and cars seem to coexist. Cabs are hailed periodically, sometimes automobiles and sometimes horse-drawn carriages, and the characters take no real note of the difference.
Next week we watch our second film from 1913, Traffic in Souls. As always, the link to our list of planned films is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
On Sunday we continued our chronological movie watching, and saw our first film from 1913: The Child of Paris. This was also what I would consider our first real feature film, though by some accounts the film we saw two weeks ago, Richard III, was a feature film because it had five reels. A Child of Paris, though, was a full two hours, more than twice as long as Richard III, and certainly a feature film by any definition.
This movie was directed by Léonce Perret, who also directed last week’s The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs. The two movies had a few cast members in common, and I believe a set was re-used as well. The plot involved a little girl whose father is called away to military service and later reported dead. Her mother then dies, and her uncle, with whom she’d been living, is called away to military service as well. She’s sent to a boarding school, where she is treated poorly, and from which she runs away. While we were watching, I mentioned the similarities to A Little Princess, and Ben mentioned Oliver Twist as an antecedent as well.
I can’t say this was the most engaging movie I’ve ever seen, but it held my interest. From a movie making perspective, there were a number of camera pans, including from one room to an adjacent room. Also, although there were no close-ups that I recall -- except of written letters -- there were some cuts from long shots to medium shots, which I don’t recall seeing before. Another interesting note was that the movie unselfconsciously depicts 1913 as a time when horse-carriages and cars seem to coexist. Cabs are hailed periodically, sometimes automobiles and sometimes horse-drawn carriages, and the characters take no real note of the difference.
Next week we watch our second film from 1913, Traffic in Souls. As always, the link to our list of planned films is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Saturday, June 2, 2018
Movies from 1912: The Conquest of the Pole and The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs
Originally posted to Facebook on 3/1/2016
This weekend we watched our final two films from 1912:
The Conquest of the Pole
The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs
The Conquest of the Pole was a late film by Georges Méliès, and the last of his that we are planning to watch. It is structurally similar to 1902's A Trip to the Moon and 1904's Voyage Across the Impossible, in that it depicts a group planning and embarking on an expedition. In this case the planning is interrupted by suffragettes, who want, if you can believe it, to be included in the trip. Luckily that outlandish idea is quickly rejected! On top of that, the expedition is a joint project between different nations, and the various representatives of those nations are dressed in outfits stereotypically associated with their respective countries. So, in short, this is not one of Méliès’ most enlightened films. Once on their way, the expedition (and rival expeditions) runs into various troubles, including a strange ice giant at the pole itself. This film may not be among the best of Méliès’ films, but it is reasonably representative, and has his typical theatrical whimsy. It is as good a place to leave off as any.
The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs was directed by Léonce Perret for Gaumont, and is considerably more modern. It is essentially a mystery film, and reminded me to a certain degree of the old half-hour Alfred Hitchcock shows. As with many of those shows, and with other shows such as Columbo, the culprit is revealed early on, in this case played by the director. (Hundred-year-old spoilers follow.) His cousin, played by Suzanne Grandais, is a minor, and has an inheritance from her uncle that she’ll receive when she turns eighteen. If she dies or is incapacitated before that, then Perret receives the inheritance. Naturally, just as you or I would, when faced with this kind of incentive, he decides to kill her, as well as a man she’s been seeing. (It’s not made clear exactly how old she is -- I’m going to charitably assume that she is very very close to being eighteen.) However he turns out to be a terrible murderer and fails to successfully murder anyone -- though that is not entirely clear for a while, perhaps by design or perhaps through unclear storytelling. His cousin has become catatonic. However, in perhaps the most interesting sequence in the film, the events that led to her impaired state are re-enacted and filmed, and then played back to her, whereupon she regains her memory. From there she and her co-target piece together the events and identify the culprit. The whole film is well put-together, and miles away from the type of movies that Melies typically made.
Next week we’ll watch our first film from 1913: The Child of Paris, also directed by Leonce Perret. I’ve also added four films from 1914 to the list, which will take us out to the end of April. The list is here:
This weekend we watched our final two films from 1912:
The Conquest of the Pole
The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs
The Conquest of the Pole was a late film by Georges Méliès, and the last of his that we are planning to watch. It is structurally similar to 1902's A Trip to the Moon and 1904's Voyage Across the Impossible, in that it depicts a group planning and embarking on an expedition. In this case the planning is interrupted by suffragettes, who want, if you can believe it, to be included in the trip. Luckily that outlandish idea is quickly rejected! On top of that, the expedition is a joint project between different nations, and the various representatives of those nations are dressed in outfits stereotypically associated with their respective countries. So, in short, this is not one of Méliès’ most enlightened films. Once on their way, the expedition (and rival expeditions) runs into various troubles, including a strange ice giant at the pole itself. This film may not be among the best of Méliès’ films, but it is reasonably representative, and has his typical theatrical whimsy. It is as good a place to leave off as any.
The Mystery of the Kador Cliffs was directed by Léonce Perret for Gaumont, and is considerably more modern. It is essentially a mystery film, and reminded me to a certain degree of the old half-hour Alfred Hitchcock shows. As with many of those shows, and with other shows such as Columbo, the culprit is revealed early on, in this case played by the director. (Hundred-year-old spoilers follow.) His cousin, played by Suzanne Grandais, is a minor, and has an inheritance from her uncle that she’ll receive when she turns eighteen. If she dies or is incapacitated before that, then Perret receives the inheritance. Naturally, just as you or I would, when faced with this kind of incentive, he decides to kill her, as well as a man she’s been seeing. (It’s not made clear exactly how old she is -- I’m going to charitably assume that she is very very close to being eighteen.) However he turns out to be a terrible murderer and fails to successfully murder anyone -- though that is not entirely clear for a while, perhaps by design or perhaps through unclear storytelling. His cousin has become catatonic. However, in perhaps the most interesting sequence in the film, the events that led to her impaired state are re-enacted and filmed, and then played back to her, whereupon she regains her memory. From there she and her co-target piece together the events and identify the culprit. The whole film is well put-together, and miles away from the type of movies that Melies typically made.
Next week we’ll watch our first film from 1913: The Child of Paris, also directed by Leonce Perret. I’ve also added four films from 1914 to the list, which will take us out to the end of April. The list is here:
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