Originally posted to Facebook on 1/7/2017
Why Change Your Wife? was our first film from 1920, and our fourth by Cecil B. DeMille. It re-united Gloria Swanson and Thomas Meighan from 1919’s Male and Female, and also starred Bebe Daniels, who had a bit part in Male and Female, and whom we just saw in the 1919 Harold Lloyd short Bumping Into Broadway. (According to IMDB she was in almost 40 shorts in 1919, quite a few of them with Lloyd.) This film was a follow-up to another 1919 Cecil B. DeMille / Gloria Swanson film called Don’t Change Your Husband. We didn’t watch that film, but this one wavered between being a romantic comedy and a moralistic cautionary tale. Thomas Meighan and Gloria Swanson start the film as a married couple who are not getting along. The blame is initially put rather squarely on Swanson’s shoulders, since she is continually nagging him, and not interested in wearing some ostensibly sexy lingerie that he buys for her. In one racist intertitle, she responds to the latter by saying, “Do you expect me to share your Oriental ideas?” But the racism was crowded out by the much more omnipresent sexism. Bebe Daniels plays a woman whom Meighan meets at the clothing store where he bought the lingerie, and he ends up spending a night with her after Swanson declines his invitation to see the Follies (at $3.50 a ticket.) The film doesn’t exactly absolve Meighan, but it strongly suggests that Swanson shares the blame. I won’t detail the rest of the film, but one partial spoiler I will share is that the film ends up having a very similar moral to Grease. Grease, though, had a much lighter tone. This film would have been much better, and much more palatable, if it had committed to consistently playing scenes for comedy -- without insisting on any kind of universal lesson. At times it adopts this approach, and it certainly has the form of a romantic comedy, but even conventional scenes from a movie of that type are sometimes weighed down with more solemnity than they can carry. The most dramatic and risible example of this is a scene late in the movie where Meighan slips on a banana peel -- really -- but then ends up lying on the ground with his head in a pool of blood while a crowd gathers. Our last film from 1919 -- True Heart Susie -- was also rather sexist, but in some ways its message was from the opposite side of the spectrum. It held up as an ideal a selfless non-paint-wearing martyr in the form of Lillian Gish, whereas this film blames Swanson for being reluctant to dance or wear perfume or lingerie. I guess you can’t win.
So, not exactly an auspicious start to the 1920s, but our next film is one of the canonical classics of the silent era: The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. The list for our upcoming films is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Saturday, July 28, 2018
Shorts (1918-1919)
Originally posted to Facebook on 1/1/2017
Last week we watched our second and last batch of shorts from the teens. They included:
A Dog's Life (1918)
The Bell Boy (1918)
From Hand to Mouth (1919)
Bumping into Broadway (1919)
All three of the canonical silent comedians are represented: Chaplin in A Dog’s Life, Keaton in The Bell Boy, and Harold Lloyd in the other two.
We’d seen three Chaplin shorts the previous week, and the new one was along much the same lines, including the presence of Edna Purviance as his leading lady. Quality-wise it was in the middle of the pack: not as good as The Immigrant, but better than The Tramp. Much of the plot revolves around Chaplin trying to obtain money and food, which is essentially the premise of the earlier shorts as well.
That basic plot is also the basis of Harold Lloyd’s From Hand to Mouth, though Lloyd is a somewhat more accessible leading man. Chaplin often has a slightly alien presence -- including his unusual appearance, and his ignorance or lack of concern with normal human conventions. Lloyd comes across as more of a normal human being down on his luck. His co-star in this film was Mildred Davis, who eventually became his wife of forty-plus years.
Bumping into Broadway was another Lloyd short from the same year, and had many of the same supporting cast, excepting his co-star, who in this case was Bebe Daniels, an actress whom we’d seen in a bit part in Male and Female, and who was active in movies and TV well into the 1950s. Interestingly both films end with dozens of policeman chasing people around, which conforms to a stereotype of silent comedies. Neither film was made for Keystone, so these weren’t technically Keystone Cops, but seem likely to be a derivative of some sort.
I’d taken the kids to see 1928’s Speedy back during the fall at the Alamo in Winchester, so this wasn’t their first time seeing Harold Lloyd. He’s a decade younger in these shorts, but his persona already seems to be basically intact.
The remaining short, The Bell Boy, was a Fatty Arbuckle picture, and co-starred both Keaton and Arbuckle’s nephew Al St. John, whom we'd seen in the previous week’s Fatty and Mabel Adrift. This is the first time we’ve seen Keaton however, and although he isn’t the star of the picture his talents are prominently on display, and you can see an athleticism and apparent willingness to endure pain for the sake of a gag that are unlike Chaplin or Lloyd. Interestingly, according to Wikipedia, he reprised much of this short twenty years later in the sound era, with 1937’s Love Nest on Wheels, and also used a portion of it almost fifty years later, in a 1966 short called The Scribe. Like all of the shorts this week, this film has a lot of scattershot jokes, some of which are better than others. Interestingly there are some topical references to Rasputin and to Kaiser Wilhelm, making this and Shoulder Arms the only two films we’ve seen to directly reference World War One while it was actually occurring.
Next week we begin the 1920s, with our fourth film by Cecil B. DeMille, titled Why Change Your Wife?. I’ve also added a new set of films from 1921. As with 1920, I’ve failed to keep to my original plan of targeting four films a year, and have instead selected five. This should take us into early March. I’m definitely hoping to hit sound films this year, since I would like to finish this project before the kids go to college, but we shall see. The updated list is shared here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Last week we watched our second and last batch of shorts from the teens. They included:
A Dog's Life (1918)
The Bell Boy (1918)
From Hand to Mouth (1919)
Bumping into Broadway (1919)
All three of the canonical silent comedians are represented: Chaplin in A Dog’s Life, Keaton in The Bell Boy, and Harold Lloyd in the other two.
We’d seen three Chaplin shorts the previous week, and the new one was along much the same lines, including the presence of Edna Purviance as his leading lady. Quality-wise it was in the middle of the pack: not as good as The Immigrant, but better than The Tramp. Much of the plot revolves around Chaplin trying to obtain money and food, which is essentially the premise of the earlier shorts as well.
That basic plot is also the basis of Harold Lloyd’s From Hand to Mouth, though Lloyd is a somewhat more accessible leading man. Chaplin often has a slightly alien presence -- including his unusual appearance, and his ignorance or lack of concern with normal human conventions. Lloyd comes across as more of a normal human being down on his luck. His co-star in this film was Mildred Davis, who eventually became his wife of forty-plus years.
Bumping into Broadway was another Lloyd short from the same year, and had many of the same supporting cast, excepting his co-star, who in this case was Bebe Daniels, an actress whom we’d seen in a bit part in Male and Female, and who was active in movies and TV well into the 1950s. Interestingly both films end with dozens of policeman chasing people around, which conforms to a stereotype of silent comedies. Neither film was made for Keystone, so these weren’t technically Keystone Cops, but seem likely to be a derivative of some sort.
I’d taken the kids to see 1928’s Speedy back during the fall at the Alamo in Winchester, so this wasn’t their first time seeing Harold Lloyd. He’s a decade younger in these shorts, but his persona already seems to be basically intact.
The remaining short, The Bell Boy, was a Fatty Arbuckle picture, and co-starred both Keaton and Arbuckle’s nephew Al St. John, whom we'd seen in the previous week’s Fatty and Mabel Adrift. This is the first time we’ve seen Keaton however, and although he isn’t the star of the picture his talents are prominently on display, and you can see an athleticism and apparent willingness to endure pain for the sake of a gag that are unlike Chaplin or Lloyd. Interestingly, according to Wikipedia, he reprised much of this short twenty years later in the sound era, with 1937’s Love Nest on Wheels, and also used a portion of it almost fifty years later, in a 1966 short called The Scribe. Like all of the shorts this week, this film has a lot of scattershot jokes, some of which are better than others. Interestingly there are some topical references to Rasputin and to Kaiser Wilhelm, making this and Shoulder Arms the only two films we’ve seen to directly reference World War One while it was actually occurring.
Next week we begin the 1920s, with our fourth film by Cecil B. DeMille, titled Why Change Your Wife?. I’ve also added a new set of films from 1921. As with 1920, I’ve failed to keep to my original plan of targeting four films a year, and have instead selected five. This should take us into early March. I’m definitely hoping to hit sound films this year, since I would like to finish this project before the kids go to college, but we shall see. The updated list is shared here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Shorts (1915-1917)
Originally posted to Facebook on 12/14/2016
This was our first of two weekends watching shorts from the teens. We saw five films:
The Tramp (1915)
A Burlesque on Carmen (1915)
Fatty and Mabel Adrift (1916)
Teddy at the Throttle (1917)
The Immigrant (1917)
Three of them were Chaplin shorts, the best of which was The Immigrant, which included a brief scene that I half-recognized from somewhere, specifically a few seconds in which Chaplin is half-walking / half-hopping in order to keep his balance on a rocking boat. The Immigrant is split into two parts, the first of which takes place on a ship bringing immigrants to the United States, including their sighting of the Statue of Liberty (which, as I believe I mentioned when discussing 1915’s The Italian, had been built just thirty years earlier.) The second section takes place mostly at a restaurant, once Chaplin and his co-star have settled in America. The best scenes are on board the ship; things slow down a bit once he comes ashore. His costar in all three shorts is Edna Purviance, who was also his co-star in 1918’s Shoulder Arms, which we saw several weeks ago. (The distinction between shorts and features during this period is a bit arbitrary; The Immigrant was half an hour, while Shoulder Arms was only forty-five minutes.)
A Burlesque on Carmen was interesting in that it was a direct parody of Cecil B. DeMille’s 1915 version of Carmen, which we watched back in May. The sets and costumes and plot points were quite similar, though the jokes were mostly shoehorned into the plot, rather than constituting any real satire of the earlier movie.
The Tramp was the earliest of the three, and probably the least inventive, with most of the jokes consisting of people being hit with bricks or poked with pitchforks or having things fall on them.
Fatty and Mabel Adrift starred Mabel Normand (who we last saw in 1914’s Tillie’s Punctured Romance, with Chaplin) and Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle. The villain was played by Al St. John, Arbuckle’s nephew. His acting in this short was extremely broad, even by the standards of early silent comedies, but apparently he went on to a long career as a Western sidekick in the thirties and forties, including many B movies with Buster Crabbe. This movie was basically about Arbuckle and Normand’s characters' romance and eventual marriage, and St. John’s jealous attempts at sabotage.
Teddy at the Throttle starred Gloria Swanson, whom we saw a few weeks ago in Male and Female. Her costar was Bobby Vernon, who was only an inch taller than Swanson at 5’2. The main villain was played by Wallace Beery, who was married to Swanson at the time. Like her, he bridged the gap between silents and talkies, winning a Best Actor Oscar in 1932. He was also famously referenced in Barton Fink (“Wallace Beery. Wrestling Picture. What do you need, a roadmap?”) The plot of this was similar to a few other films we’ve seen, in that Swanson and Vernon are due to inherit some money if and when they are married, and Beery and his sister attempt to use this information to enrich themselves.
I can’t say any of these films really struck me as worthy of recommendation, but The Immigrant and Teddy at the Throttle were probably the best of the bunch. Next week we see four more shorts, and then move on to features from the 1920s. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
This was our first of two weekends watching shorts from the teens. We saw five films:
The Tramp (1915)
A Burlesque on Carmen (1915)
Fatty and Mabel Adrift (1916)
Teddy at the Throttle (1917)
The Immigrant (1917)
Three of them were Chaplin shorts, the best of which was The Immigrant, which included a brief scene that I half-recognized from somewhere, specifically a few seconds in which Chaplin is half-walking / half-hopping in order to keep his balance on a rocking boat. The Immigrant is split into two parts, the first of which takes place on a ship bringing immigrants to the United States, including their sighting of the Statue of Liberty (which, as I believe I mentioned when discussing 1915’s The Italian, had been built just thirty years earlier.) The second section takes place mostly at a restaurant, once Chaplin and his co-star have settled in America. The best scenes are on board the ship; things slow down a bit once he comes ashore. His costar in all three shorts is Edna Purviance, who was also his co-star in 1918’s Shoulder Arms, which we saw several weeks ago. (The distinction between shorts and features during this period is a bit arbitrary; The Immigrant was half an hour, while Shoulder Arms was only forty-five minutes.)
A Burlesque on Carmen was interesting in that it was a direct parody of Cecil B. DeMille’s 1915 version of Carmen, which we watched back in May. The sets and costumes and plot points were quite similar, though the jokes were mostly shoehorned into the plot, rather than constituting any real satire of the earlier movie.
The Tramp was the earliest of the three, and probably the least inventive, with most of the jokes consisting of people being hit with bricks or poked with pitchforks or having things fall on them.
Fatty and Mabel Adrift starred Mabel Normand (who we last saw in 1914’s Tillie’s Punctured Romance, with Chaplin) and Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle. The villain was played by Al St. John, Arbuckle’s nephew. His acting in this short was extremely broad, even by the standards of early silent comedies, but apparently he went on to a long career as a Western sidekick in the thirties and forties, including many B movies with Buster Crabbe. This movie was basically about Arbuckle and Normand’s characters' romance and eventual marriage, and St. John’s jealous attempts at sabotage.
Teddy at the Throttle starred Gloria Swanson, whom we saw a few weeks ago in Male and Female. Her costar was Bobby Vernon, who was only an inch taller than Swanson at 5’2. The main villain was played by Wallace Beery, who was married to Swanson at the time. Like her, he bridged the gap between silents and talkies, winning a Best Actor Oscar in 1932. He was also famously referenced in Barton Fink (“Wallace Beery. Wrestling Picture. What do you need, a roadmap?”) The plot of this was similar to a few other films we’ve seen, in that Swanson and Vernon are due to inherit some money if and when they are married, and Beery and his sister attempt to use this information to enrich themselves.
I can’t say any of these films really struck me as worthy of recommendation, but The Immigrant and Teddy at the Throttle were probably the best of the bunch. Next week we see four more shorts, and then move on to features from the 1920s. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
True Heart Susie (1919)
Originally posted to Facebook on 12/11/2016
The final feature we watched from 1919 was True Heart Susie, the third feature we’ve seen directed by D. W. Griffith. It’s also the first we’ve seen starring Lillian Gish, though we’ve seen her previously in smaller parts, including in the unrewarding role of endless cradle-rocker in Intolerance. Her co-star is Robert Harron, who played the male lead in the modern section of Intolerance. Gish plays the title character, who lives in a small town with Harron, and has, since grade school, been in love with him. Harron fitfully reciprocates, but ends up marrying another woman, played by Clarine Seymour. Interestingly Harron and Seymour would both be dead by the following year; Harron via a self-inflicted gunshot, and Seymour of pneumonia following intestinal surgery. Gish on the other hand lived for seventy-three more years, dying in 1993, and appearing in movies well into the eighties.
In this movie Gish is portrayed as basically angelic, while Seymour, if not quite demonic, is certainly portrayed as selfish and unreliable. In the most amusingly anachronistic bit of disparagement, Seymour is described as the type of woman who wears paint, while Gish, of course, doesn’t. And this is part of a larger pattern -- all of Gish’s choices are presented as virtuous, including misleading Harron on several occasions, and generally not making her feelings known to him. Perhaps this is the model Griffith had of appropriate female behavior, but it appears ludicrous today, and I imagine to many audiences of the time as well -- since this was not the attitude shown in the other films of the period that we’ve seen (or at least not to this pronounced degree.) Basically this is the same flaw that polluted Intolerance; Griffith’s tendency to be at least as interested in espousing his strange and retrograde moral ideas as in making an entertaining movie. Another irritating trope in this film, which continues to crop up in films even now, is that Gish is described in title cards as being plain, despite clearly being a movie star. Notwithstanding all of the above, this movie may be the most conventionally entertaining of the three Griffith features that we’ve seen, but that only means that it is more entertaining than the uneven and muddled Judith of Bethulia, and more conventional than the sprawling and sui generis Intolerance.
So, with this film, we’ve wrapped up the teens, at least as far as features go. During the next two weeks we’ll watch a selection of shorts before moving on to the twenties. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The final feature we watched from 1919 was True Heart Susie, the third feature we’ve seen directed by D. W. Griffith. It’s also the first we’ve seen starring Lillian Gish, though we’ve seen her previously in smaller parts, including in the unrewarding role of endless cradle-rocker in Intolerance. Her co-star is Robert Harron, who played the male lead in the modern section of Intolerance. Gish plays the title character, who lives in a small town with Harron, and has, since grade school, been in love with him. Harron fitfully reciprocates, but ends up marrying another woman, played by Clarine Seymour. Interestingly Harron and Seymour would both be dead by the following year; Harron via a self-inflicted gunshot, and Seymour of pneumonia following intestinal surgery. Gish on the other hand lived for seventy-three more years, dying in 1993, and appearing in movies well into the eighties.
In this movie Gish is portrayed as basically angelic, while Seymour, if not quite demonic, is certainly portrayed as selfish and unreliable. In the most amusingly anachronistic bit of disparagement, Seymour is described as the type of woman who wears paint, while Gish, of course, doesn’t. And this is part of a larger pattern -- all of Gish’s choices are presented as virtuous, including misleading Harron on several occasions, and generally not making her feelings known to him. Perhaps this is the model Griffith had of appropriate female behavior, but it appears ludicrous today, and I imagine to many audiences of the time as well -- since this was not the attitude shown in the other films of the period that we’ve seen (or at least not to this pronounced degree.) Basically this is the same flaw that polluted Intolerance; Griffith’s tendency to be at least as interested in espousing his strange and retrograde moral ideas as in making an entertaining movie. Another irritating trope in this film, which continues to crop up in films even now, is that Gish is described in title cards as being plain, despite clearly being a movie star. Notwithstanding all of the above, this movie may be the most conventionally entertaining of the three Griffith features that we’ve seen, but that only means that it is more entertaining than the uneven and muddled Judith of Bethulia, and more conventional than the sprawling and sui generis Intolerance.
So, with this film, we’ve wrapped up the teens, at least as far as features go. During the next two weeks we’ll watch a selection of shorts before moving on to the twenties. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
Hawthorne of the U.S.A. (1919)
Originally posted to Facebook on 11/20/2016
Hawthorne of the U.S.A. was our third film from 1919. It starred Wallace Reid, whom we last saw in a leading role in Carmen, from 1915. There are a variety of other familiar faces as well: Lila Lee, the female lead, and Theodore Roberts both appeared in Male and Female, from just a few weeks back, and Charles Ogle we’d seen as far back as 1910 playing the monster in Frankenstein, and also more recently in Romance of the Redwoods. Also present was Harrison Ford as the protagonist’s best friend, or as IMDB calls him, Harrison Ford (II). I’ve been vaguely aware that there was a silent film star with the same name as the modern actor, but this was the first time I’d seen him in an actual film. The film itself is based on a play, and is essentially a romantic comedy, though with a slight satirical tinge. It begins with Reid winning a fortune at Monte Carlo, and making some vaguely anti-monarchical statements. This encourages some revolutionaries from the fictional country of Bovinia to draw him into their attempts to overthrow Bovinia’s king. Once he arrives in Bovinia, he ends up falling in love with the king’s daughter, and gets involved in various other intrigues. Overall it is a lightweight, occasionally amusing film, with no serious political points to make, excepting possibly the out-of-style viewpoint that the solution to foreign instability is just a good dose of American common sense. The revolutionaries even today seem reminiscent of the Bolsheviks, and certainly must have seemed that way to the audiences of 1919, but the source play was performed on Broadway in 1912 (and, as an aside, starred Douglas Fairbanks), so 1917 is presumably not the specific satirical target.
Next week we watch True Heart Susie, our final film from 1919, and our third feature from D. W. Griffith, starring Lillian Gish and Robert Harron. After that we’re going to take a couple of weeks to watch some shorts from the teens, and then move on to the 1920s. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Hawthorne of the U.S.A. was our third film from 1919. It starred Wallace Reid, whom we last saw in a leading role in Carmen, from 1915. There are a variety of other familiar faces as well: Lila Lee, the female lead, and Theodore Roberts both appeared in Male and Female, from just a few weeks back, and Charles Ogle we’d seen as far back as 1910 playing the monster in Frankenstein, and also more recently in Romance of the Redwoods. Also present was Harrison Ford as the protagonist’s best friend, or as IMDB calls him, Harrison Ford (II). I’ve been vaguely aware that there was a silent film star with the same name as the modern actor, but this was the first time I’d seen him in an actual film. The film itself is based on a play, and is essentially a romantic comedy, though with a slight satirical tinge. It begins with Reid winning a fortune at Monte Carlo, and making some vaguely anti-monarchical statements. This encourages some revolutionaries from the fictional country of Bovinia to draw him into their attempts to overthrow Bovinia’s king. Once he arrives in Bovinia, he ends up falling in love with the king’s daughter, and gets involved in various other intrigues. Overall it is a lightweight, occasionally amusing film, with no serious political points to make, excepting possibly the out-of-style viewpoint that the solution to foreign instability is just a good dose of American common sense. The revolutionaries even today seem reminiscent of the Bolsheviks, and certainly must have seemed that way to the audiences of 1919, but the source play was performed on Broadway in 1912 (and, as an aside, starred Douglas Fairbanks), so 1917 is presumably not the specific satirical target.
Next week we watch True Heart Susie, our final film from 1919, and our third feature from D. W. Griffith, starring Lillian Gish and Robert Harron. After that we’re going to take a couple of weeks to watch some shorts from the teens, and then move on to the 1920s. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
When the Clouds Roll By (1919)
Originally posted to Facebook on 11/17/2016
When the Clouds Roll By was our second film from 1919, and our third starring Douglas Fairbanks. This was also the first film we've seen directed by Victor Fleming, who directed many notable films up until his death in the late 1940s, but who is probably most famous as the primary director of both The Wizard of Oz and Gone With the Wind in 1939, the latter for which he won a Best Director Oscar. The plot of this film is a little complex, and begins with the unusual premise that Fairbanks’ doctor is attempting to drive him to suicide, and has enlisted a number of his friends and neighbors towards that end. However, after a while the movie changes course, and becomes more of a romantic comedy, with his boss enlisting him to help cheat his love interest’s father out of some land. Of course, he doesn’t know that he’s cheating her father, or even that he is her father, or that... Anyway, complications and misunderstandings ensue. I doubt anyone would contest that this is the strongest Fairbanks film of the three that we’ve seen so far; The Matrimaniac was enjoyable but slight, and Wild and Woolly was quite flawed in a number of ways, but particularly by its endless stereotypical depictions of Native Americans. (Sadly this film has a borderline racist joke near the end as well, but it is thankfully brief.) But by saying this film is an improvement over its two predecessors, I am not offering faint praise -- it is really significantly better, particularly in terms of stunts and production values, and is better written as well, with a more complex plot. There is one sequence, early in the movie, where Fairbanks walks up the walls and across the ceiling of a house in a manner so similar to Fred Astaire’s scene in Royal Wedding that it is hard to believe that the latter wasn’t quoting the former. In addition, Fairbanks and his love interest (Kathleen Clifford) have a little bit of chemistry, more so than usual in the romantic comedies we’ve seen to date, and actually seem to like each other for reasons other than the dictates of the plot. When you watch this film, and a few others we’ve seen recently, you begin to realize that somewhere along the line the resources available to make movies has increased drastically. Some of the features we’ve seen -- Gretchen the Greenhorn, for instance, or Romance of the Redwoods -- seem like they could have been made by a few dozen dedicated people. This isn’t universally true -- Intolerance and Cabiria were both massive undertakings, for instance. But those were essentially art films. When even a romantic comedy clearly requires the work of hundreds of people over months, something has clearly changed. Additionally, this movie also reflects changing times, specifically the dawning of the twenties. One clear marker is that a friend of the heroine is singled out for her bobbed hair, but more generally the dialog is slangier, and it seems more energetic and buoyant. I hesitate to outright recommend it, because it is paper thin, and very contrived, but it is high-spirited and amusing -- probably the best comedy feature we’ve seen to date.
Next we’ll watch our third film from 1919, called Hawthorne of the U.S.A.. It stars Wallace Reid, whom we last saw in a leading role in 1915’s Carmen. The list as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
When the Clouds Roll By was our second film from 1919, and our third starring Douglas Fairbanks. This was also the first film we've seen directed by Victor Fleming, who directed many notable films up until his death in the late 1940s, but who is probably most famous as the primary director of both The Wizard of Oz and Gone With the Wind in 1939, the latter for which he won a Best Director Oscar. The plot of this film is a little complex, and begins with the unusual premise that Fairbanks’ doctor is attempting to drive him to suicide, and has enlisted a number of his friends and neighbors towards that end. However, after a while the movie changes course, and becomes more of a romantic comedy, with his boss enlisting him to help cheat his love interest’s father out of some land. Of course, he doesn’t know that he’s cheating her father, or even that he is her father, or that... Anyway, complications and misunderstandings ensue. I doubt anyone would contest that this is the strongest Fairbanks film of the three that we’ve seen so far; The Matrimaniac was enjoyable but slight, and Wild and Woolly was quite flawed in a number of ways, but particularly by its endless stereotypical depictions of Native Americans. (Sadly this film has a borderline racist joke near the end as well, but it is thankfully brief.) But by saying this film is an improvement over its two predecessors, I am not offering faint praise -- it is really significantly better, particularly in terms of stunts and production values, and is better written as well, with a more complex plot. There is one sequence, early in the movie, where Fairbanks walks up the walls and across the ceiling of a house in a manner so similar to Fred Astaire’s scene in Royal Wedding that it is hard to believe that the latter wasn’t quoting the former. In addition, Fairbanks and his love interest (Kathleen Clifford) have a little bit of chemistry, more so than usual in the romantic comedies we’ve seen to date, and actually seem to like each other for reasons other than the dictates of the plot. When you watch this film, and a few others we’ve seen recently, you begin to realize that somewhere along the line the resources available to make movies has increased drastically. Some of the features we’ve seen -- Gretchen the Greenhorn, for instance, or Romance of the Redwoods -- seem like they could have been made by a few dozen dedicated people. This isn’t universally true -- Intolerance and Cabiria were both massive undertakings, for instance. But those were essentially art films. When even a romantic comedy clearly requires the work of hundreds of people over months, something has clearly changed. Additionally, this movie also reflects changing times, specifically the dawning of the twenties. One clear marker is that a friend of the heroine is singled out for her bobbed hair, but more generally the dialog is slangier, and it seems more energetic and buoyant. I hesitate to outright recommend it, because it is paper thin, and very contrived, but it is high-spirited and amusing -- probably the best comedy feature we’ve seen to date.
Next we’ll watch our third film from 1919, called Hawthorne of the U.S.A.. It stars Wallace Reid, whom we last saw in a leading role in 1915’s Carmen. The list as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Male and Female (1919)
Originally posted to Facebook on 11/12/2016
Male and Female was the first film we watched from 1919, and the third film we’ve seen directed by Cecil B. DeMille. It is also the first we’ve seen starring Gloria Swanson, probably twenty years old at the time. She is probably most famous for her silent work, but continued appearing in movies and television well into the 1970s, including notably Sunset Boulevard, in which DeMille also appeared. This movie is based on the play The Admirable Crichton, written by J.M. Barrie, author of Peter Pan. It has been adapted a few times over the years, and is probably somewhere in the lineage of Swept Away and its remake as well. It concerns a group of upper-class Britons and their servants who are shipwrecked on an island, and find their social roles inverted as a result of their isolation and the need for survival. Crichton, the butler who takes control post-shipwreck, is played by Thomas Meighan, and the eldest daughter of the upper-class family is played by Swanson. The majority of the film takes place on the island, though there is a probably too-lengthy portion set at the family’s London estate prior to the shipwreck. There is also a strange fantasy sequence, during which Meighan and Swanson imagine themselves in Babylonian times, with Meighan the emperor and Swanson a Christian slave thrown to the lions for refusing to submit. As with several films we’ve seen from this period, the incredible effect of Swanson being in the same shot with an actual lion is achieved by disregarding civilized norms of workplace safety.
I haven’t read or seen the original play, so I don’t know how it compares, but from the changed title of this version, I suspected that the depiction of the new social structure of the island was going to be rather sexist, and that certainly turned out to be the case. I think there is a larger point to be made about how the influence of society inhibits or shapes how sexism manifests itself, but this movie doesn’t attempt anything that sophisticated. It basically collapses into a love triangle, with Swanson and Lila Lee, playing the scullery maid, vying for Crichton. Its commentary on the collapse of class is similarly shallow and essentially suggests that the class roles are inverted on the island because Crichton is competent and best able to aid everyone in survival. There is the briefest suggestion of the use of force to maintain order, but only in relation to a character who was refusing to do his fair share. Otherwise Crichton is portrayed as being of too noble a character to enforce his position by violence. This is essentially a romantic comedy, though, and is meant to be lightweight -- so I am not arguing that it should have explored sexism and class structure more deeply. By all appearances the filmmakers would have been poorly suited to take that route, and I suspect a better approach would have been to adopt an even lighter touch.
Our next film is our second from 1919, and the third we’ve seen starring Douglas Fairbanks: When the Clouds Roll By. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Male and Female was the first film we watched from 1919, and the third film we’ve seen directed by Cecil B. DeMille. It is also the first we’ve seen starring Gloria Swanson, probably twenty years old at the time. She is probably most famous for her silent work, but continued appearing in movies and television well into the 1970s, including notably Sunset Boulevard, in which DeMille also appeared. This movie is based on the play The Admirable Crichton, written by J.M. Barrie, author of Peter Pan. It has been adapted a few times over the years, and is probably somewhere in the lineage of Swept Away and its remake as well. It concerns a group of upper-class Britons and their servants who are shipwrecked on an island, and find their social roles inverted as a result of their isolation and the need for survival. Crichton, the butler who takes control post-shipwreck, is played by Thomas Meighan, and the eldest daughter of the upper-class family is played by Swanson. The majority of the film takes place on the island, though there is a probably too-lengthy portion set at the family’s London estate prior to the shipwreck. There is also a strange fantasy sequence, during which Meighan and Swanson imagine themselves in Babylonian times, with Meighan the emperor and Swanson a Christian slave thrown to the lions for refusing to submit. As with several films we’ve seen from this period, the incredible effect of Swanson being in the same shot with an actual lion is achieved by disregarding civilized norms of workplace safety.
I haven’t read or seen the original play, so I don’t know how it compares, but from the changed title of this version, I suspected that the depiction of the new social structure of the island was going to be rather sexist, and that certainly turned out to be the case. I think there is a larger point to be made about how the influence of society inhibits or shapes how sexism manifests itself, but this movie doesn’t attempt anything that sophisticated. It basically collapses into a love triangle, with Swanson and Lila Lee, playing the scullery maid, vying for Crichton. Its commentary on the collapse of class is similarly shallow and essentially suggests that the class roles are inverted on the island because Crichton is competent and best able to aid everyone in survival. There is the briefest suggestion of the use of force to maintain order, but only in relation to a character who was refusing to do his fair share. Otherwise Crichton is portrayed as being of too noble a character to enforce his position by violence. This is essentially a romantic comedy, though, and is meant to be lightweight -- so I am not arguing that it should have explored sexism and class structure more deeply. By all appearances the filmmakers would have been poorly suited to take that route, and I suspect a better approach would have been to adopt an even lighter touch.
Our next film is our second from 1919, and the third we’ve seen starring Douglas Fairbanks: When the Clouds Roll By. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Monday, July 16, 2018
The Blue Bird (1918)
Originally posted to Facebook on 11/4/2016
The Blue Bird was our final film from 1918, and perhaps the strangest feature we’ve seen to date. It was directed by Maurice Tourneur, who continued directing well into the 1940s, and who was the father of Jacques Tourneur -- also the director of some great films that we may get to see someday. This film is based on a play, and begins naturalistically enough with a young brother and sister living in a modest house with their mother and father. They are contrasted with a poorer family living next door, and with a rich family as their other neighbor. One of the early moments when the film starts to take a turn from realism is when they peer out the window at their rich neighbor’s house, the shades of which are drawn, but upon which you can see artificially jet-black silhouettes of party-goers enjoying themselves. However the fantasy begins in earnest once the children fall asleep. Then they are visited by a fairy, who brings the spirits of various household items such as fire and sugar and bread to life. All of these, as well as the children and their cat and dog (now played by human actors), are sent on a mission to find the bluebird of happiness. This search takes place on vast fanciful sets, using a variety of special effects as well as costuming and camera-work to convey a strange hallucinatory state. At one point they visit their dead grandmother and grandfather, as well as their various dead siblings. The latter caused some comment from Ben and Alli -- mostly because the dead siblings numbered at least half-a-dozen. I explained that child mortality rates during the time portrayed -- which was not entirely clear -- were quite high. Still, a survival rate of two eighths did seem as if it might reflect some questionable parenting. It was interesting to see a special-effects-laden film like this from 1918, recalling some of the tricks of Méliès so long after they’d gone out of style. But while Méliès’ films were mostly jokey and playful, this film was more odd and dreamlike, even melancholy. It was very unusual, and, to the extent that there is any grain of truth to the idea that American films tend more towards naturalism than European films, it is perhaps even more unusual that this was an American film made in New Jersey. (It is true, though, that the author of the play and the director were Belgian and French, respectively.)
There was another movie version of the play made in 1940, starring Shirley Temple, and it is probably the more famous version, though I have never seen it. (Bianca, surprisingly, has.) Maybe when 1940 rolls around we’ll see it for comparison’s sake.
Next week, however, we watch our first film from 1919, and our third directed by Cecil B. DeMille: Male and Female. We are nearing the end of our films from the teens, which was the first decade that feature films were common. Short films were still a major part of the movie industry at this time, though, and stayed that way for many years. Recently we’ve basically stopped watching shorts in favor of features, and in order to correct that I’ve added a couple of weeks of short films before we dive into the 1920s. I’ve added those to the list, as well as the list of films planned for 1920, which should take us into the new year. For 1920, I’ve again broken my pledge of four films per year, and included five, mostly because they are all films I’d like to see or that I’d like the kids to see. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Blue Bird was our final film from 1918, and perhaps the strangest feature we’ve seen to date. It was directed by Maurice Tourneur, who continued directing well into the 1940s, and who was the father of Jacques Tourneur -- also the director of some great films that we may get to see someday. This film is based on a play, and begins naturalistically enough with a young brother and sister living in a modest house with their mother and father. They are contrasted with a poorer family living next door, and with a rich family as their other neighbor. One of the early moments when the film starts to take a turn from realism is when they peer out the window at their rich neighbor’s house, the shades of which are drawn, but upon which you can see artificially jet-black silhouettes of party-goers enjoying themselves. However the fantasy begins in earnest once the children fall asleep. Then they are visited by a fairy, who brings the spirits of various household items such as fire and sugar and bread to life. All of these, as well as the children and their cat and dog (now played by human actors), are sent on a mission to find the bluebird of happiness. This search takes place on vast fanciful sets, using a variety of special effects as well as costuming and camera-work to convey a strange hallucinatory state. At one point they visit their dead grandmother and grandfather, as well as their various dead siblings. The latter caused some comment from Ben and Alli -- mostly because the dead siblings numbered at least half-a-dozen. I explained that child mortality rates during the time portrayed -- which was not entirely clear -- were quite high. Still, a survival rate of two eighths did seem as if it might reflect some questionable parenting. It was interesting to see a special-effects-laden film like this from 1918, recalling some of the tricks of Méliès so long after they’d gone out of style. But while Méliès’ films were mostly jokey and playful, this film was more odd and dreamlike, even melancholy. It was very unusual, and, to the extent that there is any grain of truth to the idea that American films tend more towards naturalism than European films, it is perhaps even more unusual that this was an American film made in New Jersey. (It is true, though, that the author of the play and the director were Belgian and French, respectively.)
There was another movie version of the play made in 1940, starring Shirley Temple, and it is probably the more famous version, though I have never seen it. (Bianca, surprisingly, has.) Maybe when 1940 rolls around we’ll see it for comparison’s sake.
Next week, however, we watch our first film from 1919, and our third directed by Cecil B. DeMille: Male and Female. We are nearing the end of our films from the teens, which was the first decade that feature films were common. Short films were still a major part of the movie industry at this time, though, and stayed that way for many years. Recently we’ve basically stopped watching shorts in favor of features, and in order to correct that I’ve added a couple of weeks of short films before we dive into the 1920s. I’ve added those to the list, as well as the list of films planned for 1920, which should take us into the new year. For 1920, I’ve again broken my pledge of four films per year, and included five, mostly because they are all films I’d like to see or that I’d like the kids to see. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Sunday, July 15, 2018
The Outlaw and His Wife (1918)
Originally posted to Facebook on 11/1/2016
The Outlaw and His Wife was our third film from 1918, and also the third film we’ve seen directed by Victor Sjöström. He stars as well, just as he did in 1917’s A Man There Was. This is a more conventional film than the earlier one -- but it is surprisingly grim. It’s a little amusing to see the stereotype of gloomy Swedish films played out this early, especially since that stereotype is most often associated with Ingmar Bergman, who was born the year this film was released. Given the title, I think I can say without spoiling anything that the central character is an escaped outlaw, who begins working on a large farm under an alias, and there falls in love with the proprietress (played by Edith Erastoff) before his true identity is discovered. They decide to get married, and flee the authorities -- and things do not go well. It is apparently based on a play about a real couple from the eighteenth century. The movie, though, is anything but stage-bound, and has many scenes of majestic outdoor vistas. I don’t know that it is completely psychologically realistic, but it certainly tries to wrestle with human desperation in a sincere way, which shows more ambition than most of the films we’ve seen.
The next film we’ll see is our last from 1918, and is called The Bluebird, and looks quite eccentric and surreal. Our list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Outlaw and His Wife was our third film from 1918, and also the third film we’ve seen directed by Victor Sjöström. He stars as well, just as he did in 1917’s A Man There Was. This is a more conventional film than the earlier one -- but it is surprisingly grim. It’s a little amusing to see the stereotype of gloomy Swedish films played out this early, especially since that stereotype is most often associated with Ingmar Bergman, who was born the year this film was released. Given the title, I think I can say without spoiling anything that the central character is an escaped outlaw, who begins working on a large farm under an alias, and there falls in love with the proprietress (played by Edith Erastoff) before his true identity is discovered. They decide to get married, and flee the authorities -- and things do not go well. It is apparently based on a play about a real couple from the eighteenth century. The movie, though, is anything but stage-bound, and has many scenes of majestic outdoor vistas. I don’t know that it is completely psychologically realistic, but it certainly tries to wrestle with human desperation in a sincere way, which shows more ambition than most of the films we’ve seen.
The next film we’ll see is our last from 1918, and is called The Bluebird, and looks quite eccentric and surreal. Our list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Shoulder Arms (1918)
Originally posted to Facebook on 10/27/2016
Shoulder Arms was our second film from 1918, and also the second time we’ve seen Chaplin. Chaplin’s brother Sydney has a significant role in the movie as well, and this is the first film in which we’ve seen Chaplin’s frequent female co-star Edna Purviance. The plot concerns an American GI during WWI, training and eventually fighting overseas. This is the the first movie we’ve seen in which WWI is explicitly referenced, though we have previously seen it generically alluded to. This film is still not what I would think of as laugh-out-loud funny, but it made me smile intermittently, and was more creative in its set-ups and much more methodical about presenting actual jokes than the first Chaplin film we saw, Tillie’s Punctured Romance, which was basically just a long parade of characters kicking, hitting, and throwing things at each other. The trenches in this film, for instance, turn out to be the basis for a lot of creative set pieces, including one brief tracking shot that reminded me of the similar but more elaborate scene from Paths of Glory. The ending was a bit of a let down, and I imagine a cliché even in 1918.
Our next film from 1918 is The Outlaw and His Wife, the third feature we’ve seen directed by Victor Sjöström, and the second one in which he is also the lead. The link, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Shoulder Arms was our second film from 1918, and also the second time we’ve seen Chaplin. Chaplin’s brother Sydney has a significant role in the movie as well, and this is the first film in which we’ve seen Chaplin’s frequent female co-star Edna Purviance. The plot concerns an American GI during WWI, training and eventually fighting overseas. This is the the first movie we’ve seen in which WWI is explicitly referenced, though we have previously seen it generically alluded to. This film is still not what I would think of as laugh-out-loud funny, but it made me smile intermittently, and was more creative in its set-ups and much more methodical about presenting actual jokes than the first Chaplin film we saw, Tillie’s Punctured Romance, which was basically just a long parade of characters kicking, hitting, and throwing things at each other. The trenches in this film, for instance, turn out to be the basis for a lot of creative set pieces, including one brief tracking shot that reminded me of the similar but more elaborate scene from Paths of Glory. The ending was a bit of a let down, and I imagine a cliché even in 1918.
Our next film from 1918 is The Outlaw and His Wife, the third feature we’ve seen directed by Victor Sjöström, and the second one in which he is also the lead. The link, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Stella Maris (1918)
Originally posted to Facebook on 10/14/2016
Stella Maris was our first film from 1918, and our second (after 1917's Romance of the Redwoods) starring Mary Pickford. Pickford plays dual roles: Unity Blake -- a poor friendless orphan -- and Stella Maris -- a rich girl who is unable to walk. Both end up falling in love with John Risca, played by Conway Tearle (birth name: Frederick Levy), who is already married (though separated.) Both of Pickford’s characters are impossibly good-hearted, and the only true antagonist in the film is Risca’s wife, played by Marcia Manon. The plot has a few twists and turns, and veers between being overtly sentimental to surprisingly violent. The movie also finds time for a strange subplot about two dogs that don’t get along very well. Pickford playing dual roles was interesting, but seemed like more of a stunt than an essential element (though apparently a remake eight years later starring Mary Philbin adopted the same approach.) Certainly having a second actress play one of the roles wouldn’t have changed the film in any material way. The two characters were rarely on screen together, but on those occasions when that occurred, the double exposures -- or whatever methods were employed -- were basically seamless. Not surprising, I suppose, since George Melies was chopping people's heads off and throwing them across the room twenty years earlier. But it was interesting to see special effects used unobtrusively at this stage in film history.
The next film on the list, Shoulder Arms, is our second film from 1918, and also the second film we've seen starring Charlie Chaplin, following 1914’s Tillie’s Punctured Romance. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Stella Maris was our first film from 1918, and our second (after 1917's Romance of the Redwoods) starring Mary Pickford. Pickford plays dual roles: Unity Blake -- a poor friendless orphan -- and Stella Maris -- a rich girl who is unable to walk. Both end up falling in love with John Risca, played by Conway Tearle (birth name: Frederick Levy), who is already married (though separated.) Both of Pickford’s characters are impossibly good-hearted, and the only true antagonist in the film is Risca’s wife, played by Marcia Manon. The plot has a few twists and turns, and veers between being overtly sentimental to surprisingly violent. The movie also finds time for a strange subplot about two dogs that don’t get along very well. Pickford playing dual roles was interesting, but seemed like more of a stunt than an essential element (though apparently a remake eight years later starring Mary Philbin adopted the same approach.) Certainly having a second actress play one of the roles wouldn’t have changed the film in any material way. The two characters were rarely on screen together, but on those occasions when that occurred, the double exposures -- or whatever methods were employed -- were basically seamless. Not surprising, I suppose, since George Melies was chopping people's heads off and throwing them across the room twenty years earlier. But it was interesting to see special effects used unobtrusively at this stage in film history.
The next film on the list, Shoulder Arms, is our second film from 1918, and also the second film we've seen starring Charlie Chaplin, following 1914’s Tillie’s Punctured Romance. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
A Man There Was (1917)
Originally posted to Facebook on 10/7/2016
A Man There Was was our last film from 1917, and the second film we’ve seen directed by Victor Sjöström, the first being Ingeborg Holm, from 1913. In some ways that earlier film seemed more like a conventional feature than this one -- even though it was made at the very beginning of commercial feature films. This one is based on a poem by Ibsen, and the title cards are apparently excerpts from that poem -- a rhymed translation into English in the version we saw. It is set during the Napoleonic wars -- fifty years before the poem was written, a century before the movie, and two centuries from the present day. The lead character, played by Sjöström, is a sailor who, I hope I can say without spoilers, suffers tragedy and seeks revenge. It reminded me a little of a Griffith short we saw earlier this year called The Unchanging Sea (also based on a poem), but is significantly darker and more intense. In some ways this movie is closer to an illustrated version of the poem than what one might expect from a feature, and as a result it is fairly single-minded about telling its story, with few extraneous details, and a running time of less than an hour. It has some strong imagery as well, of the sea and the coast, and the aging protagonist. It is perhaps a bit melodramatic, but with a certain sense of heightened reality.
Next week we begin 1918 with Stella Maris, our second film starring Mary Pickford. I’ve also added our planned films for 1919 to the spreadsheet, which is linked here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
A Man There Was was our last film from 1917, and the second film we’ve seen directed by Victor Sjöström, the first being Ingeborg Holm, from 1913. In some ways that earlier film seemed more like a conventional feature than this one -- even though it was made at the very beginning of commercial feature films. This one is based on a poem by Ibsen, and the title cards are apparently excerpts from that poem -- a rhymed translation into English in the version we saw. It is set during the Napoleonic wars -- fifty years before the poem was written, a century before the movie, and two centuries from the present day. The lead character, played by Sjöström, is a sailor who, I hope I can say without spoilers, suffers tragedy and seeks revenge. It reminded me a little of a Griffith short we saw earlier this year called The Unchanging Sea (also based on a poem), but is significantly darker and more intense. In some ways this movie is closer to an illustrated version of the poem than what one might expect from a feature, and as a result it is fairly single-minded about telling its story, with few extraneous details, and a running time of less than an hour. It has some strong imagery as well, of the sea and the coast, and the aging protagonist. It is perhaps a bit melodramatic, but with a certain sense of heightened reality.
Next week we begin 1918 with Stella Maris, our second film starring Mary Pickford. I’ve also added our planned films for 1919 to the spreadsheet, which is linked here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Wild and Woolly (1917)
Originally posted to Facebook on 10/1/2016
Wild and Woolly was our third film from 1917, and the second we’ve seen starring Douglas Fairbanks. Like The Matrimaniac, it is set more or less in the present day (i.e. 1917.) Also like that film it is a light comedy with some mild stunt-work. The plot is unusual and seemed promising: Fairbanks plays the rich son of a railroad magnate. He idealizes the West, and is sent to Arizona, imagining it to be as represented in novels and movies, despite the fact that by 1917, the Wild West is essentially gone (though still within living memory.) The town, however, is aware of his misconception, and decides to play the part in an attempt to curry favor with him (and his father). However, this premise never lives up to its potential for a few reasons. First, and most significant, was the portrayal of Native Americans as the main antagonists, in the broadest and most unsympathetic way. At one point, when a group of Native Americans are terrorizing a bar, snarling and theatrically drinking liquor, I considered calling it quits, like we did for Traffic in Souls, and finding a replacement film for the following week. But by that point we were near the end, so we managed to finish it up. Thankfully I didn’t have to spend a lot of time explaining everything to the kids -- they were fully aware, and we’d had a similar conversation when we’d watched The Perils of Pauline a few months back. But even aside from that problem, there were other major issues with the film. For one, Douglas Fairbanks’ character doesn’t come off as charmingly misinformed; rather, he appears to be psychotically deluded, and a bit of a bully to boot. And he never really receives the kind of comeuppance you might expect the spoiled rich businessman’s son to receive in a film like this. He does give a speech at the end, where he acknowledges the error of his ways, but it’s not clear why, since his delusion is more or less what saves the day. The romance, with a town resident played by Eileen Percy, is also basically pro-forma -- not strongly motivated or convincing. Definitely a disappointment. Interestingly the director (John Emerson) and one of the writers (Anita Loos) were later married, and were also credited as writers of The Matrimaniac. Anita Loos, particularly, had a long and bizarre life that is worth Wikipedia-ing, and continued writing for the movies up through the forties, as well as writing the book and musical upon which Gentlemen Prefer Blondes was based.
Our next film, and our last from 1917, is A Man There Was, which was directed by and also stars Victor Sjöström, who also directed Ingeborg Holm, from 1913, which is one of the more naturalistic features we’ve seen from that early period. The link, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Wild and Woolly was our third film from 1917, and the second we’ve seen starring Douglas Fairbanks. Like The Matrimaniac, it is set more or less in the present day (i.e. 1917.) Also like that film it is a light comedy with some mild stunt-work. The plot is unusual and seemed promising: Fairbanks plays the rich son of a railroad magnate. He idealizes the West, and is sent to Arizona, imagining it to be as represented in novels and movies, despite the fact that by 1917, the Wild West is essentially gone (though still within living memory.) The town, however, is aware of his misconception, and decides to play the part in an attempt to curry favor with him (and his father). However, this premise never lives up to its potential for a few reasons. First, and most significant, was the portrayal of Native Americans as the main antagonists, in the broadest and most unsympathetic way. At one point, when a group of Native Americans are terrorizing a bar, snarling and theatrically drinking liquor, I considered calling it quits, like we did for Traffic in Souls, and finding a replacement film for the following week. But by that point we were near the end, so we managed to finish it up. Thankfully I didn’t have to spend a lot of time explaining everything to the kids -- they were fully aware, and we’d had a similar conversation when we’d watched The Perils of Pauline a few months back. But even aside from that problem, there were other major issues with the film. For one, Douglas Fairbanks’ character doesn’t come off as charmingly misinformed; rather, he appears to be psychotically deluded, and a bit of a bully to boot. And he never really receives the kind of comeuppance you might expect the spoiled rich businessman’s son to receive in a film like this. He does give a speech at the end, where he acknowledges the error of his ways, but it’s not clear why, since his delusion is more or less what saves the day. The romance, with a town resident played by Eileen Percy, is also basically pro-forma -- not strongly motivated or convincing. Definitely a disappointment. Interestingly the director (John Emerson) and one of the writers (Anita Loos) were later married, and were also credited as writers of The Matrimaniac. Anita Loos, particularly, had a long and bizarre life that is worth Wikipedia-ing, and continued writing for the movies up through the forties, as well as writing the book and musical upon which Gentlemen Prefer Blondes was based.
Our next film, and our last from 1917, is A Man There Was, which was directed by and also stars Victor Sjöström, who also directed Ingeborg Holm, from 1913, which is one of the more naturalistic features we’ve seen from that early period. The link, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Tillie Wakes Up (1917)
Originally posted to Facebook on 9/17/2016
Tillie Wakes Up was the second film we watched from 1917, and was a sequel of sorts to 1914’s Tillie’s Punctured Romance. In fact there was also an intervening Tillie film as well, but it is now mostly lost. As mentioned last week, neither Chaplin nor Mabel Normand are in this one, but Marie Dressler returns as Tillie -- though her presence and character name is literally the only thread connecting these two films. In this movie she is now married, unhappily, and living in an apartment building with a similarly unhappy neighboring couple. She decides to make her husband (Frank Beamish) jealous by going out with the similarly neglected husband of the neighboring couple, played by Johnny Hines. This cliched plot is redeemed by only two things: First, one of the places they visit is an amusement park -- either Coney Island or someplace very similar. I recently saw (but haven’t written up yet) Harold Lloyd’s Speedy, which was made a decade later in 1928, and this sequence makes me wonder if he was consciously emulating this earlier film. Certainly his version is significantly more sophisticated, with jokes that look like they were planned out in advance, whereas this movie mostly relies upon showing Tillie being discomfited by the various rides (all of which look very unsafe by today’s standards.) The most striking parallel between the two movies was a ride consisting of a disc in the floor, which spins its seated riders off to the sides as it quickly rotates.
The second interesting thing about this film was the absurdly slangy title cards, which are impossible to capture without examples. One read, “They missed Mattewan because Officer 666 was too tired to make a pinch. He thought they were a couple of nuts!”, which I think means they weren’t arrested because the officer didn’t take them seriously. Another read “Tillie had never tasted anything stronger than orange Pekoe and J. Mortimer was a bug on Clysmic, but they fell off the wagon with a splash that scared all of the Mackerel out of the Harbor,” which I believe means they weren’t used to drinking, and ended up getting very drunk. There were dozens of cards like these, and some of them were so absurdly obscure I just had to guess when translating for the kids. They were the most amusing thing about the film, although we were laughing at them as much as with them. I do wonder, though, if they really dated from 1917 or had been revised in the twenties or later. Some of them seemed a little too irreverent and jokey for 1917, and we haven’t seen anything like them in the contemporaneous films we’ve been watching, certainly not in this kind of concentrated barrage. One bit of evidence for a later vintage was the use of the word “hep,” which may have been in currency in 1917, but is more associated with later periods. Also, Oscar Hammerstein was mentioned, who was young and not particularly famous in 1917. I thought this latter piece of evidence had clinched it, but after doing a little research it appears Oscar Hammerstein had a grandfather by the same name who was also a well known theatrical figure, and it’s possible they may have been referring to him. So it’s still an open question for me. With the exception of the title cards, the movie was probably about as funny as Tillie’s Punctured Romance (i.e. not very) but there was something slightly more charming about it, perhaps having to do with the fact that it was a decidedly lower budget and less meticulous affair.
Next week we’ll see Wild and Woolly, our third film from 1917 and our second film starring Douglas Fairbanks. This list is linked to here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Tillie Wakes Up was the second film we watched from 1917, and was a sequel of sorts to 1914’s Tillie’s Punctured Romance. In fact there was also an intervening Tillie film as well, but it is now mostly lost. As mentioned last week, neither Chaplin nor Mabel Normand are in this one, but Marie Dressler returns as Tillie -- though her presence and character name is literally the only thread connecting these two films. In this movie she is now married, unhappily, and living in an apartment building with a similarly unhappy neighboring couple. She decides to make her husband (Frank Beamish) jealous by going out with the similarly neglected husband of the neighboring couple, played by Johnny Hines. This cliched plot is redeemed by only two things: First, one of the places they visit is an amusement park -- either Coney Island or someplace very similar. I recently saw (but haven’t written up yet) Harold Lloyd’s Speedy, which was made a decade later in 1928, and this sequence makes me wonder if he was consciously emulating this earlier film. Certainly his version is significantly more sophisticated, with jokes that look like they were planned out in advance, whereas this movie mostly relies upon showing Tillie being discomfited by the various rides (all of which look very unsafe by today’s standards.) The most striking parallel between the two movies was a ride consisting of a disc in the floor, which spins its seated riders off to the sides as it quickly rotates.
The second interesting thing about this film was the absurdly slangy title cards, which are impossible to capture without examples. One read, “They missed Mattewan because Officer 666 was too tired to make a pinch. He thought they were a couple of nuts!”, which I think means they weren’t arrested because the officer didn’t take them seriously. Another read “Tillie had never tasted anything stronger than orange Pekoe and J. Mortimer was a bug on Clysmic, but they fell off the wagon with a splash that scared all of the Mackerel out of the Harbor,” which I believe means they weren’t used to drinking, and ended up getting very drunk. There were dozens of cards like these, and some of them were so absurdly obscure I just had to guess when translating for the kids. They were the most amusing thing about the film, although we were laughing at them as much as with them. I do wonder, though, if they really dated from 1917 or had been revised in the twenties or later. Some of them seemed a little too irreverent and jokey for 1917, and we haven’t seen anything like them in the contemporaneous films we’ve been watching, certainly not in this kind of concentrated barrage. One bit of evidence for a later vintage was the use of the word “hep,” which may have been in currency in 1917, but is more associated with later periods. Also, Oscar Hammerstein was mentioned, who was young and not particularly famous in 1917. I thought this latter piece of evidence had clinched it, but after doing a little research it appears Oscar Hammerstein had a grandfather by the same name who was also a well known theatrical figure, and it’s possible they may have been referring to him. So it’s still an open question for me. With the exception of the title cards, the movie was probably about as funny as Tillie’s Punctured Romance (i.e. not very) but there was something slightly more charming about it, perhaps having to do with the fact that it was a decidedly lower budget and less meticulous affair.
Next week we’ll see Wild and Woolly, our third film from 1917 and our second film starring Douglas Fairbanks. This list is linked to here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
A Romance of the Redwoods (1917)
Originally posted to Facebook on 9/9/2016
A Romance of the Redwoods was our first film from 1917. As I mentioned last week, it’s the first one we’ve seen starring Mary Pickford, and the second one, after Carmen, that we’ve seen directed by Cecil B. DeMille. In another prominent role is Charles Ogle, who played Frankenstein’s monster in the sixteen minute 1910 version we saw earlier this year. This film is ostensibly a melodrama, but it has a strangely light tone not completely in sync with its plot. The initial contrivance that sets the film in motion is that Mary Pickford’s character, living in Boston, is orphaned, and decides to follow her uncle out to California. However, in the meantime her uncle has been killed by a group of Native Americans (or “Injuns” as one character calls them in a title card), and his identity assumed by a stagecoach robber played by Elliot Dexter. Since this movie is titled “A Romance of the Redwoods,” you can probably guess where this setup leads -- though the leads don’t have a particularly strong chemistry, and the romance is more announced than truly shown. But the plot has enough twists and turns along the way to keep it interesting, if not essential.
Next week we’ll watch our second film from 1917, Tillie Wakes Up, a sequel to Tillie’s Punctured Romance from 1914, minus Chaplin and Mabel Normand. Marie Dressler is still in it though, playing the title role. The link, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
A Romance of the Redwoods was our first film from 1917. As I mentioned last week, it’s the first one we’ve seen starring Mary Pickford, and the second one, after Carmen, that we’ve seen directed by Cecil B. DeMille. In another prominent role is Charles Ogle, who played Frankenstein’s monster in the sixteen minute 1910 version we saw earlier this year. This film is ostensibly a melodrama, but it has a strangely light tone not completely in sync with its plot. The initial contrivance that sets the film in motion is that Mary Pickford’s character, living in Boston, is orphaned, and decides to follow her uncle out to California. However, in the meantime her uncle has been killed by a group of Native Americans (or “Injuns” as one character calls them in a title card), and his identity assumed by a stagecoach robber played by Elliot Dexter. Since this movie is titled “A Romance of the Redwoods,” you can probably guess where this setup leads -- though the leads don’t have a particularly strong chemistry, and the romance is more announced than truly shown. But the plot has enough twists and turns along the way to keep it interesting, if not essential.
Next week we’ll watch our second film from 1917, Tillie Wakes Up, a sequel to Tillie’s Punctured Romance from 1914, minus Chaplin and Mabel Normand. Marie Dressler is still in it though, playing the title role. The link, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
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