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
Showing posts with label 1918. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1918. Show all posts
Saturday, July 28, 2018
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
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