Originally posted to Facebook on 7/1/2017
Dr. Mabuse: The Gambler is our fourth film from 1922, and the second we’ve seen directed by Fritz Lang, after 1921’s Destiny. Like that earlier film it was co-written with Lang by his wife, Thea von Harbou, based on a novel by Norbert Jacques. It was very reminiscent (perhaps consciously) of Louis Feuillade’s French serials that we saw last year: Fantomas (1913) and Judex (1916). All three feature a criminal mastermind -- a vigilante in the case of Judex -- with extraordinary abilities. All are extremely long; Dr. Mabuse is not a serial like the other films, but it is is constructed so that it can viewed in two sittings, and is, in total, approximately four hours. However, there is a much darker edge to this film than the earlier two. The first intertitle reads: “You’re hopped up on cocaine again, Spoerri! You know that I won’t stand for it. If I see you in such a state once more, I’ll kick you out like a dog,” followed by Spoerri saying, “If you kick me out, I may as well put a bullet through my head!” So, issues of whether this is appropriate viewing for a nine-year-old aside, one immediately knows that this is not going to be a light hearted fantasy. Dr. Mabuse (played by Rudolf Klein-Rogge, Harbou's husband prior to Lang) has his fingers in a variety of criminal enterprises, and in addition has the ability to somehow hypnotize people into doing his bidding. I don’t know if the phrase “will to power” is ever used explicitly, but that concept is openly talked about by some of the characters, and the entire film is framed as a battle of wills between Mabuse and a police detective, played by Bernhard Goetzke (who also played Death in Destiny.) Goetzke is an equally intense, brooding presence, though the kids and I did begin to observe midway through that he didn’t seem to be very good at his job; Dr Mabuse maintains the upper hand throughout most of the film.
One surprising aspect of the film was that it explicitly discussed expressionism -- which means that this was a label that was actively being used at the time, and not something that has been applied retroactively. Dr. Mabuse is asked at a party what he thinks of expressionism, and he replies, “Expressionism is just an idle game. But then again, why not? Everything today is an idle game.” That statement, while underlining a certain cynical worldview consistent with the tone of the film, also seems to suggest a certain ambivalence about expressionism, though the film itself is rather firmly in the expressionist camp. The house at which that party occurs is filled with expressionist artwork, and there are a variety of other moments throughout the film which amplify that. One of the more bizarre comes early on when Cara Carozza (a member of Mabuse’s mob, played by Aud Egede-Nissen) is doing an odd dance at a nightclub, during which, midway through, two giant heads with long phallic noses slide out onto the stage and chase her around. I’m not sure why a nightclub would think this would be an appropriate climax to a dance number, but postwar Germany definitely appears to have been a strange place.
Like the earlier serials, this film did start to sag a bit as it wore on, and I expect a shorter version would have been just as effective. I suspect, too, that the length has something to do with why this film isn’t more well known. It has as many memorable scenes and performances as several of the more famous silents we’ve seen, but also has perhaps just a little too much filler.
Next week we see our fifth film from 1922, and our fourth starring Douglas Fairbanks: Robin Hood. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
This is an account of an ongoing project to chronologically watch a selection of films from each year with my kids, starting in 1893 and continuing up through the present.
Sunday, February 17, 2019
Nosferatu (1922)
Originally posted to Facebook on 6/29/2017
Nosferatu was our third film from 1922, and the first we’ve seen directed by F.W. Murnau. As with a few of the other films we've seen recently, this too is one of the rare silents that is still somewhat known in the modern era. I had never seen it before (though I had seen Shadow of the Vampire, which was a fictional depiction of its making.) The plot is taken directly from Dracula, which famously led to a lawsuit from the estate of Bram Stoker, and many copies of the film were destroyed as a result. Max Schreck plays Count Orlok (i.e. Dracula), with Gustav von Wangenheim as Hutter (i.e. Harker) and Greta Schröder as Ellen (i.e. Mina.)
This is the fourth German film we’ve seen from the 1920s, which is partially the result of our selection process, but also reflective, I think, of a certain uptick in German creativity post WW1 -- as all four of the German films we’ve seen have been innovative or unusual in some way. Three of them, including this one, could be considered horror films in some sense, but I think this was the purest horror film by modern standards. In The Golem, the title character was menacing, but was similar to the Frankenstein monster, in that he wasn’t entirely evil or even consistently hostile -- just potentially dangerous. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, on the other hand, was so eccentric and artificial that it evoked more of a dreamlike state than true horror. Nosferatu, though, had a truly malevolent villain, and had the most pure “shock” scenes, such as the title character rising out of his coffin, or attempting to lick blood off of the lead's cut hand, or staring maniacally at the protagonist from an adjoining building. Other aspects don’t work quite as well, such as use of stop motion -- which was perhaps intended to communicate unearthliness at the time, but today comes off as more of a gimmick, or even comically. I certainly wouldn’t suggest that this movie would scare a modern audience, but you can see the techniques of modern horror film begin to be assembled, and there are certainly moments that still convey tension.
Next week we see our fourth film from 1922, and also our second directed by Fritz Lang: Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler. The list as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Nosferatu was our third film from 1922, and the first we’ve seen directed by F.W. Murnau. As with a few of the other films we've seen recently, this too is one of the rare silents that is still somewhat known in the modern era. I had never seen it before (though I had seen Shadow of the Vampire, which was a fictional depiction of its making.) The plot is taken directly from Dracula, which famously led to a lawsuit from the estate of Bram Stoker, and many copies of the film were destroyed as a result. Max Schreck plays Count Orlok (i.e. Dracula), with Gustav von Wangenheim as Hutter (i.e. Harker) and Greta Schröder as Ellen (i.e. Mina.)
This is the fourth German film we’ve seen from the 1920s, which is partially the result of our selection process, but also reflective, I think, of a certain uptick in German creativity post WW1 -- as all four of the German films we’ve seen have been innovative or unusual in some way. Three of them, including this one, could be considered horror films in some sense, but I think this was the purest horror film by modern standards. In The Golem, the title character was menacing, but was similar to the Frankenstein monster, in that he wasn’t entirely evil or even consistently hostile -- just potentially dangerous. The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, on the other hand, was so eccentric and artificial that it evoked more of a dreamlike state than true horror. Nosferatu, though, had a truly malevolent villain, and had the most pure “shock” scenes, such as the title character rising out of his coffin, or attempting to lick blood off of the lead's cut hand, or staring maniacally at the protagonist from an adjoining building. Other aspects don’t work quite as well, such as use of stop motion -- which was perhaps intended to communicate unearthliness at the time, but today comes off as more of a gimmick, or even comically. I certainly wouldn’t suggest that this movie would scare a modern audience, but you can see the techniques of modern horror film begin to be assembled, and there are certainly moments that still convey tension.
Next week we see our fourth film from 1922, and also our second directed by Fritz Lang: Dr. Mabuse, the Gambler. The list as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Foolish Wives (1922)
Originally posted to Facebook on 5/21/2017
Foolish Wives was our second film of 1922, and the first we’ve seen directed by (and starring) Erich von Stroheim. The production was famously troubled and over-budget (as can be verified by watching the made-for-TV movie Young Indiana Jones and the Hollywood Follies) -- and resulted in a six-plus hour running time before it was taken away from Stroheim and cut down to the length that survives today.
The movie itself -- or what remains of it -- revolves around Stroheim and two of his cousins, presenting themselves as Russian nobility, and trying to regain their former wealth. (The Russian revolution, of course, had happened just five years earlier.) The film begins strongly, with Stroheim playing a charming rogue, working with counterfeiters, and trying to seduce the wife of the American ambassador. However the charm begins to wear, particularly in a subplot involving Stroheim having carnal designs on a mentally disabled (or ”half-witted”, as the film puts it) daughter of one of his associates. I wasn’t terribly thrilled at having to explain this to the kids in as PG a fashion as possible -- nor at another scene where someone used the phrase “free, white, and twenty-one.” The film ends rather arbitrarily and abruptly, perhaps as a result of the studio’s radical re-cutting, but for long stretches it was entertaining to watch Stroheim play a sophisticated con artist. He has a real charisma, though the more you read about his actual personality, the harder it is to avoid drawing parallels with his character. Bizarrely Stroheim was still allowed to direct several subsequent films, and continued acting well into the fifties, including his role in Grand Illusion, and in Sunset Boulevard (along with so many other silent film figures.)
Next week we’ll see our third film from 1922, which is another iconic silent film that is still somewhat known today: Nosferatu. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Foolish Wives was our second film of 1922, and the first we’ve seen directed by (and starring) Erich von Stroheim. The production was famously troubled and over-budget (as can be verified by watching the made-for-TV movie Young Indiana Jones and the Hollywood Follies) -- and resulted in a six-plus hour running time before it was taken away from Stroheim and cut down to the length that survives today.
The movie itself -- or what remains of it -- revolves around Stroheim and two of his cousins, presenting themselves as Russian nobility, and trying to regain their former wealth. (The Russian revolution, of course, had happened just five years earlier.) The film begins strongly, with Stroheim playing a charming rogue, working with counterfeiters, and trying to seduce the wife of the American ambassador. However the charm begins to wear, particularly in a subplot involving Stroheim having carnal designs on a mentally disabled (or ”half-witted”, as the film puts it) daughter of one of his associates. I wasn’t terribly thrilled at having to explain this to the kids in as PG a fashion as possible -- nor at another scene where someone used the phrase “free, white, and twenty-one.” The film ends rather arbitrarily and abruptly, perhaps as a result of the studio’s radical re-cutting, but for long stretches it was entertaining to watch Stroheim play a sophisticated con artist. He has a real charisma, though the more you read about his actual personality, the harder it is to avoid drawing parallels with his character. Bizarrely Stroheim was still allowed to direct several subsequent films, and continued acting well into the fifties, including his role in Grand Illusion, and in Sunset Boulevard (along with so many other silent film figures.)
Next week we’ll see our third film from 1922, which is another iconic silent film that is still somewhat known today: Nosferatu. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Sherlock Holmes (1922)
Originally posted to Facebook on 4/18/2017
Sherlock Holmes was our first film from 1922, and it was based on the same play as the 1916 version we'd previously seen. The earlier version was written by and starred William Gillette. This version stars the famous stage actor (and Drew Barrymore’s grandfather) John Barrymore, the first movie in which we’ve seen him. It also marks the first film appearance of Roland Young (as Watson) who later starred in the Topper films. But even more notably, this is the first film appearance of William Powell, who was in a number of excellent films throughout the thirties and forties -- which I look forward to seeing if this project makes it that far. As so often happens though, the cast in this case is better than the film. This movie differs from the earlier film mainly in that there is a long prologue explaining some backstory of the subsequent plot. This section purports to show Holmes, Watson, and Powell’s character when they were together at college. This ends up being rather distracting, however, because Barrymore was 40 at the time, and Roland Young was 35, and neither looked remotely like a college student. Even more importantly, the whole sequence is totally unnecessary; any backstory can be easily inferred, as shown by the earlier movie. At some point after that sequence the movie starts to converge on the plotline that we were more familiar with, which had some of the same holes and pacing problems as the earlier film. Some of the action was a little more dynamic though, and the title cards took an interesting stab at a slightly more naturalistic style of dialogue, with sentences trailing off, and characters interrupting themselves. In addition there was an interesting aerial shot of London, presumably taken from an airplane. The only precedent I recall which we’d seen previously was a brief shot from a plane in 1914’s Perils of Pauline, which was nowhere near as striking.
Overall, though, the two versions of Sherlock Holmes are of similar quality. I probably prefer the earlier film; it was slow and padded and not entirely logical, but it had a consistent tone, and conformed more to the idea of Sherlock Holmes as primarily a creature of the mind. I suspect the biggest drag on both movies is that the play itself doesn’t translate naturally to film -- or to a silent film in any case.
Next week we’ll see our second film from from 1922, Erich von Stroheim’s Foolish Wives. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Sherlock Holmes was our first film from 1922, and it was based on the same play as the 1916 version we'd previously seen. The earlier version was written by and starred William Gillette. This version stars the famous stage actor (and Drew Barrymore’s grandfather) John Barrymore, the first movie in which we’ve seen him. It also marks the first film appearance of Roland Young (as Watson) who later starred in the Topper films. But even more notably, this is the first film appearance of William Powell, who was in a number of excellent films throughout the thirties and forties -- which I look forward to seeing if this project makes it that far. As so often happens though, the cast in this case is better than the film. This movie differs from the earlier film mainly in that there is a long prologue explaining some backstory of the subsequent plot. This section purports to show Holmes, Watson, and Powell’s character when they were together at college. This ends up being rather distracting, however, because Barrymore was 40 at the time, and Roland Young was 35, and neither looked remotely like a college student. Even more importantly, the whole sequence is totally unnecessary; any backstory can be easily inferred, as shown by the earlier movie. At some point after that sequence the movie starts to converge on the plotline that we were more familiar with, which had some of the same holes and pacing problems as the earlier film. Some of the action was a little more dynamic though, and the title cards took an interesting stab at a slightly more naturalistic style of dialogue, with sentences trailing off, and characters interrupting themselves. In addition there was an interesting aerial shot of London, presumably taken from an airplane. The only precedent I recall which we’d seen previously was a brief shot from a plane in 1914’s Perils of Pauline, which was nowhere near as striking.
Overall, though, the two versions of Sherlock Holmes are of similar quality. I probably prefer the earlier film; it was slow and padded and not entirely logical, but it had a consistent tone, and conformed more to the idea of Sherlock Holmes as primarily a creature of the mind. I suspect the biggest drag on both movies is that the play itself doesn’t translate naturally to film -- or to a silent film in any case.
Next week we’ll see our second film from from 1922, Erich von Stroheim’s Foolish Wives. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
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
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