For our penultimate week covering the 1920s, we watched six shorts from 1920-1922. All six were in the 18-26 minute range, and all were from the three canonical film comedians of the 1920s: Keaton, Chaplin, and Lloyd.
In the first short, One Week (1920), Buster Keaton and his new wife (played by Sybil Seely) struggle to build a mail-order house. Having the house as the focus of most of the bits makes this one of the more focused comedy shorts we've seen, although, like a Road Runner cartoon, people are injured and things are broken that are completely fine in the next scene. It is solid and consistent and amusing, and strikes me as a good portal into Buster Keaton for a newcomer.
In Neighbors (1920) Keaton courts a woman (Virginia Fox) who lives in the house behind his. Both sets of parents forbid them from seeing each other. Keaton's father in the film is played by his real-life father Joe Keaton, and Fox's father is played by Joe Roberts, who is in all three of the Keaton films we saw this week. The short unfortunately features a quasi-blackface sequence, which seems for a second as if it is going to be a bit of social commentary -- as a policeman only pursues Keaton when his face is blackened. But that tack is never really developed, and there is additionally another racist scene in which a black family is scared of Keaton under a sheet, believing him to be a ghost. This material is particularly disappointing because there are some really astounding sequences with three men (including Keaton) standing on each other's shoulders in order to reach the upper stories of Fox's house.
The last of the three Keaton shorts we saw was The Goat (1921), and it was the most scatter-shot of the three. The first half is dominated by Keaton trying to evade the police, eventually fleeing to another town. (It is a little strange how police were such consistent punching-bags in silent film; if someone made a comedy today where the main character spent an entire film knocking policemen down and throwing things at them, it would probably be remarked upon.) The second half is kicked off by the iconic scene of Keaton sitting on the front of a train as it pulls in very close to the camera. In the new town, however, he is mistaken for a wanted criminal, and also falls in love with the police chief's daughter (Fox again), while trying to avoid her father (Roberts again.) None of this makes much sense, but it ends strongly, with a solid last five minutes in which Keaton's creativity and athleticism are on full display.
The next two films we saw starred Harold Lloyd. High and Dizzy (1920) was the first, and mostly involved Lloyd and a friend (played by Roy Brooks) wandering around drunk. Mildred Davis, Lloyd's frequent co-star and future wife, appears briefly at the beginning where it is established that she is a sleepwalker -- so that it is only slightly random when she shows up in the last third and sleepwalks along ledges that through fake perspective appear high above a city -- in an early iteration of the famous Safety First scenes. The movie was agreeable and didn't wear out its welcome, but didn't aspire to be much more than a collection of middling gags.
Fake perspective also featured in the second Lloyd film, Never Weaken (1921), in which Lloyd spends the last third navigating a series of ostensibly high-up girders -- for no particularly good reason. His co-star in this film is again Davis, and he spends the first third trying to scare up business for the osteopath for whom she works, and then the second third trying to kill himself (in what seems like an extreme overreaction) after misapprehending that she is going to marry someone else. This film is much of a piece with the previous one -- in that it is essentially a string of gags -- with nothing particularly distinctive besides the perspective trick.
The last film was a Chaplin short named Pay Day (1922), the first portion of which chronicles his working day, and the last portion of which shows him trying to enjoy his evening after work while avoiding his wife, played in a thankless role by Phyllis Allen -- who was 28 years his senior (though she doesn't look it.) His regular co-star during this period, Edna Purviance, shows up as well, but in only a minor role as his foreman's daughter during the first and most enjoyable section of the film. That portion also has one memorable sequence with workers throwing bricks up to Chaplin perched above, and him catching them acrobatically. This is transparently accomplished by running the film backwards, but it nonetheless has a striking effect. The second section is marred by the ugly stereotype of the shrewish wife, but is otherwise a typical sequence of visual jokes -- in this case revolving around him going out and getting drunk, trying to get home, and, as above, trying to avoid his wife's wrath. It also is the source of the meme of Chaplin looking at a passing young woman while his wife glowers at him.
Next week we'll watch another selection of shorts from the 1920s, and then move on to the features of the 1930s.
The ongoing list of films remains at https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT.
Showing posts with label 1921. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1921. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 22, 2019
Sunday, February 17, 2019
Destiny (1921)
Originally posted to Facebook on 4/11/2017
Destiny was our fourth and final film from 1921, and the first we’ve seen directed by Fritz Lang. As with many of his films, it was co-written with his soon-to-be wife Thea von Harbou. Its plot is episodic; the framing story involves a woman (played by Lil Dagover, the female lead from 1920’s The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) trying to reclaim her fiance, played by Walter Janssen, from a personified Death. In response, Death, played by Bernhard Goetzke, challenges her to save the lives of any of three men who are all fated to die -- which sets up the episodic middle portion of the film. These sequences take place in an unspecified Muslim country, in Italy, and lastly in China -- and the leads in each sequence are played by Dagover and Janssen, in local dress and sometimes make-up, most egregiously in the Chinese segment. Needless to say, these segments mar the film significantly, particularly the Chinese segment, which is intended to be comedic, but is instead cringe-inducing. This is all the worse since the framing story is actually quite strong and atmospheric -- with a weary stoic Death, surrounded by burning candles representing the length of people’s lives. Those sequences, along with some of the darker or more philosophical moments have the makings of a strong, intense film, perhaps somewhere in the same neighborhood as The Phantom Carriage. However the three interludes (or “Stories of the Lights” as they’re identified by the title cards) are not only racist (to varying degrees) but they are also lighter in tone, which saps some of the intensity. Fritz Lang, of course, was famous both for his silent and sound films, and was one of the key links between German Expressionism and noir. I believe we’ll be seeing more of his films along the way, and I hope that I’ll like them more than I liked this one.
Next week we begin 1922 with Sherlock Holmes, which is based on the same play as the 1916 version we saw starring the play’s author, William Gillette. This 1922 version stars John Barrymore, and has some other prominent actors as well. Additionally, I’ve added films from 1923 to our viewing plan, which should take us out through the end of May. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Destiny was our fourth and final film from 1921, and the first we’ve seen directed by Fritz Lang. As with many of his films, it was co-written with his soon-to-be wife Thea von Harbou. Its plot is episodic; the framing story involves a woman (played by Lil Dagover, the female lead from 1920’s The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) trying to reclaim her fiance, played by Walter Janssen, from a personified Death. In response, Death, played by Bernhard Goetzke, challenges her to save the lives of any of three men who are all fated to die -- which sets up the episodic middle portion of the film. These sequences take place in an unspecified Muslim country, in Italy, and lastly in China -- and the leads in each sequence are played by Dagover and Janssen, in local dress and sometimes make-up, most egregiously in the Chinese segment. Needless to say, these segments mar the film significantly, particularly the Chinese segment, which is intended to be comedic, but is instead cringe-inducing. This is all the worse since the framing story is actually quite strong and atmospheric -- with a weary stoic Death, surrounded by burning candles representing the length of people’s lives. Those sequences, along with some of the darker or more philosophical moments have the makings of a strong, intense film, perhaps somewhere in the same neighborhood as The Phantom Carriage. However the three interludes (or “Stories of the Lights” as they’re identified by the title cards) are not only racist (to varying degrees) but they are also lighter in tone, which saps some of the intensity. Fritz Lang, of course, was famous both for his silent and sound films, and was one of the key links between German Expressionism and noir. I believe we’ll be seeing more of his films along the way, and I hope that I’ll like them more than I liked this one.
Next week we begin 1922 with Sherlock Holmes, which is based on the same play as the 1916 version we saw starring the play’s author, William Gillette. This 1922 version stars John Barrymore, and has some other prominent actors as well. Additionally, I’ve added films from 1923 to our viewing plan, which should take us out through the end of May. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Sunday, September 2, 2018
The Sheik (1921)
Originally posted to Facebook on 3/22/2017
The Sheik was our fourth film from 1921, and is another one of the rare silents that is still referenced now and again in popular culture. It is probably Rudolph Valentino’s best known film, and the only one that we’ve seen him in so far. In addition it is also the first time we’ve seen Adolphe Menjou, who doesn’t look particularly young in this film, but is younger and trimmer than I’ve seen him elsewhere. Valentino of course died just a few years later, but Menjou continued appearing in films up through the 1960s, notably including Kubrick’s Paths of Glory.
To repeat a common theme, many of the movies we’ve been seeing from this period do a lousy job of representing non-Western cultures, and this movie is worse than most in this regard. Valentino plays a nomadic sheik who kidnaps an English woman, played by Agnes Ayres, and forces her to obey his orders. (The bestselling novel upon which the movie was based is apparently much more graphic than the movie, and was considered scandalous at the time.) During her captivity she grows to love him, which seems like a backward and antiquated sort of a development, until you reflect that a film for children with a very similar plot is right now the highest grossing film for 2017. At one point in the movie Ayres is kidnapped by a different desert chieftain -- which is presented without much irony as much worse morally than the original kidnapping. Apparently it is a well-known violation of desert ethics to kidnap someone who has already been kidnapped.
In short, this was not a good movie. One of the most egregious scenes comes near the end, when Valentino’s character has been injured. Ayres is holding his hand, and says to Menjou, “His hand is so large for an Arab.” I paused the film at this point to see how much was left, and discussed it briefly with the kids. (Me: “Is that even a stereotype?” Ben: “Haven’t you heard the old saying: ‘As tiny as an Arab’s hands?’” Me: “Please don’t say anything like that at school.”)
Next up is Destiny, our fifth and final film from 1921, and the first we’ve seen directed by Fritz Lang. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Sheik was our fourth film from 1921, and is another one of the rare silents that is still referenced now and again in popular culture. It is probably Rudolph Valentino’s best known film, and the only one that we’ve seen him in so far. In addition it is also the first time we’ve seen Adolphe Menjou, who doesn’t look particularly young in this film, but is younger and trimmer than I’ve seen him elsewhere. Valentino of course died just a few years later, but Menjou continued appearing in films up through the 1960s, notably including Kubrick’s Paths of Glory.
To repeat a common theme, many of the movies we’ve been seeing from this period do a lousy job of representing non-Western cultures, and this movie is worse than most in this regard. Valentino plays a nomadic sheik who kidnaps an English woman, played by Agnes Ayres, and forces her to obey his orders. (The bestselling novel upon which the movie was based is apparently much more graphic than the movie, and was considered scandalous at the time.) During her captivity she grows to love him, which seems like a backward and antiquated sort of a development, until you reflect that a film for children with a very similar plot is right now the highest grossing film for 2017. At one point in the movie Ayres is kidnapped by a different desert chieftain -- which is presented without much irony as much worse morally than the original kidnapping. Apparently it is a well-known violation of desert ethics to kidnap someone who has already been kidnapped.
In short, this was not a good movie. One of the most egregious scenes comes near the end, when Valentino’s character has been injured. Ayres is holding his hand, and says to Menjou, “His hand is so large for an Arab.” I paused the film at this point to see how much was left, and discussed it briefly with the kids. (Me: “Is that even a stereotype?” Ben: “Haven’t you heard the old saying: ‘As tiny as an Arab’s hands?’” Me: “Please don’t say anything like that at school.”)
Next up is Destiny, our fifth and final film from 1921, and the first we’ve seen directed by Fritz Lang. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Phantom Carriage (1921)
Originally posted to Facebook on 3/14/2017
The Phantom Carriage was our third film from from 1921, and our fourth directed by Victor Sjöström. Of all the directors of this period, I think Sjöström has the best batting average, and this film continues the pattern -- in fact it is probably the best of his films we’ve seen to date. He again plays the male lead, as was true in all but one of his previous films we’ve seen, and Hilda Borgström, who also played the title character in 1913’s Ingeborg Holm, plays his wife. What sets Sjöström apart is mostly competent and assured storytelling -- though he is as innovative and technically solid as any of his peers. For instance, in the early part of this film, Sjöström’s character begins telling a story, which switches to a flashback. During that flashback, another character begins telling a story, and the film begins showing that narrative. Perhaps that had been done previously, but it seems pretty unusual for 1921; yet it was handled as smoothly as it would be in a modern film.
Sjöström, in the film, plays a character whose alcoholism has ruined his life, and Astrid Holm plays a Salvation Army worker who attempts to save him. She is played as a virtual saint, and apparently has fallen in love with him as well, though that is never fully motivated or developed. (I pointed out to the kids that her character had more or less the same profession as the women temperancists in Intolerance, who are of course portrayed in that movie as shrewish killjoys.) When the movie opens Holm is dying of tuberculosis and wants to see Sjöström before she dies. Most of the story is told in flashbacks -- again, fairly innovative for 1921 -- led by the driver of the eponymous Phantom Carriage, who is the ghost of a man whom Sjöström’s character once knew. I think the plot probably owes something to A Christmas Carol, but it is much more focused on the specifics of Sjöström’s alcoholism than the grand sweep of his life. Another interesting bit of trivia about this film is that there is a scene where Sjöström breaks down a door with an axe, which some people have theorized was the inspiration for the similar scene in The Shining.
Our next film, the fourth from 1921, will be the iconic Rudolph Valentino film The Sheik. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Phantom Carriage was our third film from from 1921, and our fourth directed by Victor Sjöström. Of all the directors of this period, I think Sjöström has the best batting average, and this film continues the pattern -- in fact it is probably the best of his films we’ve seen to date. He again plays the male lead, as was true in all but one of his previous films we’ve seen, and Hilda Borgström, who also played the title character in 1913’s Ingeborg Holm, plays his wife. What sets Sjöström apart is mostly competent and assured storytelling -- though he is as innovative and technically solid as any of his peers. For instance, in the early part of this film, Sjöström’s character begins telling a story, which switches to a flashback. During that flashback, another character begins telling a story, and the film begins showing that narrative. Perhaps that had been done previously, but it seems pretty unusual for 1921; yet it was handled as smoothly as it would be in a modern film.
Sjöström, in the film, plays a character whose alcoholism has ruined his life, and Astrid Holm plays a Salvation Army worker who attempts to save him. She is played as a virtual saint, and apparently has fallen in love with him as well, though that is never fully motivated or developed. (I pointed out to the kids that her character had more or less the same profession as the women temperancists in Intolerance, who are of course portrayed in that movie as shrewish killjoys.) When the movie opens Holm is dying of tuberculosis and wants to see Sjöström before she dies. Most of the story is told in flashbacks -- again, fairly innovative for 1921 -- led by the driver of the eponymous Phantom Carriage, who is the ghost of a man whom Sjöström’s character once knew. I think the plot probably owes something to A Christmas Carol, but it is much more focused on the specifics of Sjöström’s alcoholism than the grand sweep of his life. Another interesting bit of trivia about this film is that there is a scene where Sjöström breaks down a door with an axe, which some people have theorized was the inspiration for the similar scene in The Shining.
Our next film, the fourth from 1921, will be the iconic Rudolph Valentino film The Sheik. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Tuesday, August 21, 2018
Tol'able David (1921)
Originally posted to Facebook on 3/9/2017
Tol'able David was our second film from 1921, and also the second film we’ve seen in which Richard Barthelmess plays the male lead. He’s the title character, and tol’able apparently is a contraction for “tolerable”, although it doesn’t seem like a word that’s used often enough to really warrant a contraction. He’s the youngest son in a farming family, who are depicted as having an idyllic if tenuous rural life. However, a series of tragic events occur, forcing him to grow up and shoulder more responsibility. The film was paced and executed decently well, but I thought Barthelmess overplayed his character’s boyishness in the earlier portions in the film. This was presumably to create a contrast with the later portions, but Barthelmess was too obviously a full-grown adult for it to seem credible. He also had patches of overacting, in particular a scene in which he told his quasi-girlfriend (Gladys Hulette) that he didn’t want to see her anymore, and then dramatically turned his head and marched off. This made the kids laugh significantly more than any of the deliberately comic scenes.
Next up is The Phantom Carriage, our third film from 1921, and the fourth film we’ve seen directed by Victor Sjöström. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Tol'able David was our second film from 1921, and also the second film we’ve seen in which Richard Barthelmess plays the male lead. He’s the title character, and tol’able apparently is a contraction for “tolerable”, although it doesn’t seem like a word that’s used often enough to really warrant a contraction. He’s the youngest son in a farming family, who are depicted as having an idyllic if tenuous rural life. However, a series of tragic events occur, forcing him to grow up and shoulder more responsibility. The film was paced and executed decently well, but I thought Barthelmess overplayed his character’s boyishness in the earlier portions in the film. This was presumably to create a contrast with the later portions, but Barthelmess was too obviously a full-grown adult for it to seem credible. He also had patches of overacting, in particular a scene in which he told his quasi-girlfriend (Gladys Hulette) that he didn’t want to see her anymore, and then dramatically turned his head and marched off. This made the kids laugh significantly more than any of the deliberately comic scenes.
Next up is The Phantom Carriage, our third film from 1921, and the fourth film we’ve seen directed by Victor Sjöström. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Kid (1921)
Originally posted to Facebook on 3/2/2017
The Kid was our first film from 1921, and our third feature starring Charlie Chaplin. But it actually feels more like our first proper Chaplin film, because the first (1914’s Tillie’s Punctured Romance, which some claim is the first surviving feature length comedy) was before Chaplin had really refined his screen persona, and the second (1918’s Shoulder Arms) was only forty-five minutes long, and was more akin to some of his shorts than a full-length movie. The version of The Kid that we saw was actually somewhat edited by Chaplin himself in 1971, apparently to remove a few scenes in which he didn’t appear. The main victim of this editing according to the internet was his regular female costar Edna Purviance. His other co-star -- the title character -- was Jackie Coogan, the archetypal child actor who was cheated out of his earnings by his parents. He also famously starred as Uncle Fester in the 1960s TV version of The Addams Family, and continued appearing in movies up through the 1980s. The clarity of the print was unusually sharp, possibly due to its popularity and various re-releases over the years, and it was the most relaxed of Chaplin’s films that we’ve seen, with fewer acrobatic or closely-timed sequences than usual. Most of the comedy was of a domestic sort, with Chaplin trying to raise Coogan in a less-than-ideal fashion, after finding him abandoned as a baby. The most elaborate bit is a dream sequence in which Chaplin imagines himself in a sort of an urban heaven. I didn’t find the movie enormously amusing, but it was pleasant and charming, and certainly showed Chaplin’s increasingly polished style. Additionally Coogan was not as annoying as you might imagine a young child in this sort of role might be.
Our next film from 1921 is Tol’able David, which stars Richard Barthelmess, whom we saw just last week as the male lead in Way Down East. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Kid was our first film from 1921, and our third feature starring Charlie Chaplin. But it actually feels more like our first proper Chaplin film, because the first (1914’s Tillie’s Punctured Romance, which some claim is the first surviving feature length comedy) was before Chaplin had really refined his screen persona, and the second (1918’s Shoulder Arms) was only forty-five minutes long, and was more akin to some of his shorts than a full-length movie. The version of The Kid that we saw was actually somewhat edited by Chaplin himself in 1971, apparently to remove a few scenes in which he didn’t appear. The main victim of this editing according to the internet was his regular female costar Edna Purviance. His other co-star -- the title character -- was Jackie Coogan, the archetypal child actor who was cheated out of his earnings by his parents. He also famously starred as Uncle Fester in the 1960s TV version of The Addams Family, and continued appearing in movies up through the 1980s. The clarity of the print was unusually sharp, possibly due to its popularity and various re-releases over the years, and it was the most relaxed of Chaplin’s films that we’ve seen, with fewer acrobatic or closely-timed sequences than usual. Most of the comedy was of a domestic sort, with Chaplin trying to raise Coogan in a less-than-ideal fashion, after finding him abandoned as a baby. The most elaborate bit is a dream sequence in which Chaplin imagines himself in a sort of an urban heaven. I didn’t find the movie enormously amusing, but it was pleasant and charming, and certainly showed Chaplin’s increasingly polished style. Additionally Coogan was not as annoying as you might imagine a young child in this sort of role might be.
Our next film from 1921 is Tol’able David, which stars Richard Barthelmess, whom we saw just last week as the male lead in Way Down East. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
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