Originally posted to Facebook on 3/31/2019
Hallelujah was our sixth film from 1929, and our first true sound film after a couple of partial talkies. It was also the fourth film we've seen directed by King Vidor, and our second film with an African American cast, after 1926's The Flying Ace.
Interestingly the movie opens with the MGM lion silently roaring, even though we've heard it audibly roar for earlier Movietone silents. It is a musical -- our first, obviously -- and stars Daniel L. Haynes, a farm-worker who is pulled away from his presumably virtuous rural world by Nina Mae McKinney, whom he meets while in town to sell his family's harvest. It is difficult to assess a film like this, both because of its questionable approach to portraying African-American life, and because of its technical limitations. The former point is called out right away by a pre-title screen on the DVD, which assures us that the film does not reflect the current values of Warner Brothers -- in case anyone was wondering. And it is immediately clear why that insert was added; the main characters are all portrayed either two-dimensionally or with major pathologies, and almost always in stereotypical fashion. During this era in film history it was a remarkable and positive development to see black protagonists on the screen at all, particularly in a major studio film with a star director, but the particular reflection of life shown in this film turns it into a distinctly mixed blessing.
The performances are also uneven; Haynes acquits himself not too badly, but much of the other acting is either flat or stilted or over-the-top. McKinney is particularly bad, with weird and unconvincing line readings. I'm not sure if this is entirely her fault, given the lines she's reading, and the primitive state of the recording technology, and also the fact that her role is so thankless and arbitrary.
On a technical level, the audio is quite muddy -- not too surprising considering given its status as an early talkie, but certainly not the best state of affairs for a musical. The songs themselves are a mixed bag. "Waiting at the End of the Road" which Haynes sings as he arrives in town to sell crops is one of the high points, and there is also the beginning of what seems like an interesting montage of the song "Going Home" near the end, as Haynes is traveling back home to see his family -- a few shots of Haynes singing on the back of a wagon, on a train, and walking along the road -- but that ends nearly as soon as it starts. The film has a few other memorable sequences -- such as a scene of mounting intensity in which Haynes chases someone through the swamp, knee deep in water -- but there are just as many scenes that fall flat or come across as amateurish.
In short this is neither a good film, nor simply a bad one, nor a forgettable misfire; it is an interesting historical curiosity, still worth viewing, but not mainly for its entertainment value.
Next week we'll see our seventh film from 1929, The Wild Party -- our second sound film, and our second film starring Clara Bow. The link, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Showing posts with label King Vidor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label King Vidor. Show all posts
Sunday, June 23, 2019
Sunday, June 9, 2019
The Crowd (1928)
Originally posted to Facebook on 7/29/2018
Our fourth film from 1928 was The Crowd. It was the second film in a row (after last week's Show People), and the third overall, that we've seen directed by King Vidor. Rather frustratingly, there doesn't appear to be an English-language DVD of this film available by a commercial publisher. I ended up buying a Spanish version ("Y El Munda Marcha"), which was fine; the title cards are still in English, so there is no difference when the Spanish subtitles are turned off. However the print was still not all that great -- an occupational hazard when you are watching silent films, but The Crowd is not some obscure rarity that has survived only through chance; it's a well-known movie, was nominated for a couple Academy Awards at the time, and was one of the first 25 features added to the National Film Registry in 1989, along with only five other silents. It's very strange that there isn't a decently well restored version of this film available for the American market.
In any case, the film stars James Murray and Eleanor Boardman. Neither are well remembered today, though Boardman had a brief but significant career, and was in some interesting films, including 1926's Tell It to the Marines which we saw earlier in this project. She also happened to be married to King Vidor at the time of this film. Murray's career was much more checkered, and he died in 1936, after many years of alcoholism and erratic behavior. The film covers the courtship and marriage of John and Mary Sims, and tracks their early lives through various ups and downs. It actually starts with John Sims as a boy, growing up in a small town, before he moves to New York City, but those scenes are almost completely superfluous and could have been covered by a line or two of dialog later in the film. Ideally the film could have started with the movie's iconic shot of a camera climbing up the side of an office building, dissolving through a window, and showing Murray in a dehumanizing sea of desks -- and that is in fact the way 1960's The Apartment started, explicitly paying tribute to that scene. And that shot also shows some of the influence of German Expressionism in American films -- sort of a white collar equivalent to Metropolis. That influence pops up intermittently through the film, another example being the maternity ward when Murray first sees his son.
I was a little disappointed by the film, probably in part because of the expectations set by its "classic" status, but also by Murray's performance. The film hits a lot of the notes you would expect in a mature film about ordinary people -- showing their ambitions and hopes meshing unevenly with day-to-day realities -- and it is indeed refreshing to see a couple on-screen arguing about something as prosaic as getting the toilet fixed. They face more serious challenges together as well, but Murray can barely keep it together under even regular circumstances. His emoting is almost a caricature of what people envision silent film acting to be. It doesn't completely distract from the film's virtues, but it does make one feel a little more sympathy for Boardman's family's disapproval of him. Another flaw is that Boardman plays a distinctly second fiddle in the film. Almost all of her frustrations are in reaction to Murray's choices or circumstances. A more modulated approach -- more emphasis on her inner life, and saving Murray's hysterics for a few key scenes -- would have strengthened the film significantly. I think the overall theme, though, of how people's relationships to one another provide meaning regardless of how mundane their lives seem, or how frustrated or despairing they may be, has almost universal appeal -- and is also what drives It's a Wonderful Life, for instance, which may well have been influenced by this film.
Next week, we'll see The Wind, our fifth film from 1928, and a re-teaming of the stars and director from 1926's The Scarlet Letter, all three of whom (Victor Sjöström, Lillian Gish, and Lars Hanson) we have seen multiple times before, together and apart. The overall list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Our fourth film from 1928 was The Crowd. It was the second film in a row (after last week's Show People), and the third overall, that we've seen directed by King Vidor. Rather frustratingly, there doesn't appear to be an English-language DVD of this film available by a commercial publisher. I ended up buying a Spanish version ("Y El Munda Marcha"), which was fine; the title cards are still in English, so there is no difference when the Spanish subtitles are turned off. However the print was still not all that great -- an occupational hazard when you are watching silent films, but The Crowd is not some obscure rarity that has survived only through chance; it's a well-known movie, was nominated for a couple Academy Awards at the time, and was one of the first 25 features added to the National Film Registry in 1989, along with only five other silents. It's very strange that there isn't a decently well restored version of this film available for the American market.
In any case, the film stars James Murray and Eleanor Boardman. Neither are well remembered today, though Boardman had a brief but significant career, and was in some interesting films, including 1926's Tell It to the Marines which we saw earlier in this project. She also happened to be married to King Vidor at the time of this film. Murray's career was much more checkered, and he died in 1936, after many years of alcoholism and erratic behavior. The film covers the courtship and marriage of John and Mary Sims, and tracks their early lives through various ups and downs. It actually starts with John Sims as a boy, growing up in a small town, before he moves to New York City, but those scenes are almost completely superfluous and could have been covered by a line or two of dialog later in the film. Ideally the film could have started with the movie's iconic shot of a camera climbing up the side of an office building, dissolving through a window, and showing Murray in a dehumanizing sea of desks -- and that is in fact the way 1960's The Apartment started, explicitly paying tribute to that scene. And that shot also shows some of the influence of German Expressionism in American films -- sort of a white collar equivalent to Metropolis. That influence pops up intermittently through the film, another example being the maternity ward when Murray first sees his son.
I was a little disappointed by the film, probably in part because of the expectations set by its "classic" status, but also by Murray's performance. The film hits a lot of the notes you would expect in a mature film about ordinary people -- showing their ambitions and hopes meshing unevenly with day-to-day realities -- and it is indeed refreshing to see a couple on-screen arguing about something as prosaic as getting the toilet fixed. They face more serious challenges together as well, but Murray can barely keep it together under even regular circumstances. His emoting is almost a caricature of what people envision silent film acting to be. It doesn't completely distract from the film's virtues, but it does make one feel a little more sympathy for Boardman's family's disapproval of him. Another flaw is that Boardman plays a distinctly second fiddle in the film. Almost all of her frustrations are in reaction to Murray's choices or circumstances. A more modulated approach -- more emphasis on her inner life, and saving Murray's hysterics for a few key scenes -- would have strengthened the film significantly. I think the overall theme, though, of how people's relationships to one another provide meaning regardless of how mundane their lives seem, or how frustrated or despairing they may be, has almost universal appeal -- and is also what drives It's a Wonderful Life, for instance, which may well have been influenced by this film.
Next week, we'll see The Wind, our fifth film from 1928, and a re-teaming of the stars and director from 1926's The Scarlet Letter, all three of whom (Victor Sjöström, Lillian Gish, and Lars Hanson) we have seen multiple times before, together and apart. The overall list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Show People (1928)
Originally posted to Facebook on 7/27/2018
Show People was our third film from 1928. It was directed by King Vidor, and starred Marion Davies and William Haines, all of whom we've seen before during this project -- Marion Davies in 1922's When Knighthood was in Flower and 1927's The Red Mill, William Haines in 1926's Tell It to the Marines, and King Vidor as the director of 1925's The Big Parade.
This was another film with a Movietone soundtrack, signaling the incipient end of the silent era, and the kids were impressed that, for the first time, we heard the MGM lion roar. ("Whoa!" they said.) Until recently I had actually believed that the point of the MGM lion -- and its roar -- was to signal to audiences that they were watching a sound film -- but we've seen the lion roaring silently on films dating back a few years, so obviously that was incorrect.
Show People is a Hollywood movie about Hollywood, similar in some ways to 1923's The Extra Girl, but its humor is broader than that film, which is especially notable when you remember that a long sequence in the earlier film involved Mabel Normand not being able to tell the difference between a dog dressed up as a lion and a real lion. Marion Davies in this case plays the newcomer to Hollywood, and is eventually helped out by William Haines, who is a slapstick comedian at a minor studio. Haines, as we saw a few months ago, held his own against Lon Chaney in Tell It to the Marines, perhaps surprisingly. But he does less well up against Marion Davies in this picture. She is clearly the star of the film, and gives her normal charismatic performance, though she is a bit less charming and more self-centered than in previous films. In fact, the major arc of the film follows her rise up the Hollywood ladder, forgetting her friends along the way. But she is obnoxious not only on the way up, but also when she rights things at the end. Haines also is fairly obnoxious in his role, and never quite shows his character's core of seriousness as he did in Tell It to the Marines.
Neither The Extra Girl nor this film was intended as a brutal satire of Hollywood exactly, but this film has a little more of an insider feel than the earlier one, which gives it that much less bite. It reminded me of the phenomenon of celebrities who have been mocked on Saturday Night Live showing up in person, to signal that the mockery is all in good fun -- whether or not that is (or should be) the case. And there are a number of celebrity cameos throughout the movie, playing themselves, including William S. Hart, Douglas Fairbanks, and John Gilbert. Some show up only briefly in a single shot, but some, like Charlie Chaplin, are mentioned by name, and actually have a short scene with the lead characters. The Extra Girl had a few celebrity cameos as well, but nothing close to the star power of this film.
I think I would have preferred if this film had taken a stronger approach in one direction or another -- either to have been funnier, or to have had less two-dimensional characters, or to have been more scathing about Hollywood. But it was entertaining, and it was certainly interesting to see the impression Hollywood had or wanted to create for itself at this point in its history.
Next week we move on to The Crowd, our fourth film from 1928, which was also directed by King Vidor. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT.
Show People was our third film from 1928. It was directed by King Vidor, and starred Marion Davies and William Haines, all of whom we've seen before during this project -- Marion Davies in 1922's When Knighthood was in Flower and 1927's The Red Mill, William Haines in 1926's Tell It to the Marines, and King Vidor as the director of 1925's The Big Parade.
This was another film with a Movietone soundtrack, signaling the incipient end of the silent era, and the kids were impressed that, for the first time, we heard the MGM lion roar. ("Whoa!" they said.) Until recently I had actually believed that the point of the MGM lion -- and its roar -- was to signal to audiences that they were watching a sound film -- but we've seen the lion roaring silently on films dating back a few years, so obviously that was incorrect.
Show People is a Hollywood movie about Hollywood, similar in some ways to 1923's The Extra Girl, but its humor is broader than that film, which is especially notable when you remember that a long sequence in the earlier film involved Mabel Normand not being able to tell the difference between a dog dressed up as a lion and a real lion. Marion Davies in this case plays the newcomer to Hollywood, and is eventually helped out by William Haines, who is a slapstick comedian at a minor studio. Haines, as we saw a few months ago, held his own against Lon Chaney in Tell It to the Marines, perhaps surprisingly. But he does less well up against Marion Davies in this picture. She is clearly the star of the film, and gives her normal charismatic performance, though she is a bit less charming and more self-centered than in previous films. In fact, the major arc of the film follows her rise up the Hollywood ladder, forgetting her friends along the way. But she is obnoxious not only on the way up, but also when she rights things at the end. Haines also is fairly obnoxious in his role, and never quite shows his character's core of seriousness as he did in Tell It to the Marines.
Neither The Extra Girl nor this film was intended as a brutal satire of Hollywood exactly, but this film has a little more of an insider feel than the earlier one, which gives it that much less bite. It reminded me of the phenomenon of celebrities who have been mocked on Saturday Night Live showing up in person, to signal that the mockery is all in good fun -- whether or not that is (or should be) the case. And there are a number of celebrity cameos throughout the movie, playing themselves, including William S. Hart, Douglas Fairbanks, and John Gilbert. Some show up only briefly in a single shot, but some, like Charlie Chaplin, are mentioned by name, and actually have a short scene with the lead characters. The Extra Girl had a few celebrity cameos as well, but nothing close to the star power of this film.
I think I would have preferred if this film had taken a stronger approach in one direction or another -- either to have been funnier, or to have had less two-dimensional characters, or to have been more scathing about Hollywood. But it was entertaining, and it was certainly interesting to see the impression Hollywood had or wanted to create for itself at this point in its history.
Next week we move on to The Crowd, our fourth film from 1928, which was also directed by King Vidor. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT.
Wednesday, February 20, 2019
The Big Parade (1925)
Originally posted to Facebook on 12/17/2017
The Big Parade was our second film from 1925, and the first time we have seen John Gilbert in a leading role. We'd seen him once before in a smaller part, behind Lon Chaney in He Who Gets Slapped (which just last week was added to the National Film Registry.) This is also the first film we've seen directed by King Vidor, who continued working up through the late fifties, and was nominated for five directing Oscars along the way.
This film follows a somewhat familiar arc as John Gilbert is introduced as a less-than-serious young man, and becomes battle-hardened and cynical as a result of his experiences during World War 1. Between the early scenes of him as a civilian and the later battle scenes, his character is stationed in a French village, where the main focus is the growing relationship between him and the female lead, played by Renée Adorée (who, like Gilbert, would be dead before the next decade was out.) This section, I think, is the most flawed portion of the film. It is not just that the film is not terribly convincing in portraying Gilbert and Adorée falling in love, but also that an hour is spent in the attempt. This delays the most effective portion of the film -- the depiction of the war -- which includes a tension-filled sequence during which Gilbert and the other soldiers slowly march through a forest filled with snipers whittling down their outfit, one by one. Following that there are also the series of trench warfare scenes that one would expect in a WW1 film. I strongly suspect that these latter scenes influenced 1930's All's Quiet on the Western Front, which has a similar kind of intensity. That film, though, depicted a lengthy campaign which helped to communicate how the attrition and constant state of fear weighed upon soldiers, whereas The Big Parade shows Gilbert's growth and alienation in a much more compacted time-frame. Also, unlike the later film, The Big Parade is less conspicuously anti-war, focusing much more on Gilbert's specific story.
This is the first true war film that we've seen (excepting Chaplin's Shoulder Arms), and the first to attempt to depict combat with any degree of verisimilitude, which made it a worthwhile viewing despite its other flaws. It is probably at least partially a result of the particular films that we've selected, but it does seem that Hollywood was a little slow to fully engage with WW1, which is a big contrast with, for instance, the approach during WW2 a couple of decades later.
Next week we move on to our third film from 1925, Chaplin's The Gold Rush -- the fourth feature of his we'll see. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Big Parade was our second film from 1925, and the first time we have seen John Gilbert in a leading role. We'd seen him once before in a smaller part, behind Lon Chaney in He Who Gets Slapped (which just last week was added to the National Film Registry.) This is also the first film we've seen directed by King Vidor, who continued working up through the late fifties, and was nominated for five directing Oscars along the way.
This film follows a somewhat familiar arc as John Gilbert is introduced as a less-than-serious young man, and becomes battle-hardened and cynical as a result of his experiences during World War 1. Between the early scenes of him as a civilian and the later battle scenes, his character is stationed in a French village, where the main focus is the growing relationship between him and the female lead, played by Renée Adorée (who, like Gilbert, would be dead before the next decade was out.) This section, I think, is the most flawed portion of the film. It is not just that the film is not terribly convincing in portraying Gilbert and Adorée falling in love, but also that an hour is spent in the attempt. This delays the most effective portion of the film -- the depiction of the war -- which includes a tension-filled sequence during which Gilbert and the other soldiers slowly march through a forest filled with snipers whittling down their outfit, one by one. Following that there are also the series of trench warfare scenes that one would expect in a WW1 film. I strongly suspect that these latter scenes influenced 1930's All's Quiet on the Western Front, which has a similar kind of intensity. That film, though, depicted a lengthy campaign which helped to communicate how the attrition and constant state of fear weighed upon soldiers, whereas The Big Parade shows Gilbert's growth and alienation in a much more compacted time-frame. Also, unlike the later film, The Big Parade is less conspicuously anti-war, focusing much more on Gilbert's specific story.
This is the first true war film that we've seen (excepting Chaplin's Shoulder Arms), and the first to attempt to depict combat with any degree of verisimilitude, which made it a worthwhile viewing despite its other flaws. It is probably at least partially a result of the particular films that we've selected, but it does seem that Hollywood was a little slow to fully engage with WW1, which is a big contrast with, for instance, the approach during WW2 a couple of decades later.
Next week we move on to our third film from 1925, Chaplin's The Gold Rush -- the fourth feature of his we'll see. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
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