Originally posted to Facebook on 6/9/2019
Linda was our eighth film from 1929, and our first silent after three straight talkies or partial talkies. It stars Helen Foster, whom we saw in 1928's Road to Ruin, and is directed by Dorothy Davenport, or "Mrs. Wallace Reid" as she is billed, who -- along with Dorothy Arzner from last week -- was one of the very few prominent woman directors of the time. She was the widow of Wallace Reid, whom we saw in 1915's Carmen and 1919's Hawthorne of the U.S.A., and who had died in 1923 as a result of a drug addiction.
Foster plays Linda, a girl from a poverty-stricken family, living in the mountains. Bess Flowers plays a visiting teacher who sees promise in Foster, and tries to convince her to expand her horizons. At the same time, her father, played by Mitchell Lewis, tries to marry her off to the local mill boss, played by Noah Beery -- the older brother of Wallace Beery (whom we've seen several times) and the father of Noah Beery Jr., known for playing James Garner's father on Rockford Files. Linda, however, is more interested in a doctor played by Warner Baxter.
Various plot developments ensue -- nothing very surprising, excepting maybe the final scene. The film seems old-fashioned for 1929, and could have been made a decade earlier with only minor modifications. It is a bit condescending to its rural characters and their lack of sophistication. The title cards, for instance, attempt to capture the dialect of the area, a device which ends up being distracting and unnecessary. However the film is not cynical; if anything it is overly earnest. It also has a certain humane spirit running through it; with the exception of Linda's father (who is portrayed as a violent alcoholic), and one other minor character, everyone is portrayed as reasonably good-hearted, or at least redeemable. The film is warm-spirited without completely shying away from some harsh realities, even if in the end it was not sharp or stylish enough for my tastes.
Our next film is A Throw of Dice, our ninth and last film from 1929, and our first Indian film. The link, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Sunday, June 23, 2019
The Wild Party (1929)
Originally posted to Facebook on 6/1/2019
The Wild Party was our seventh film from 1929, the second time we've seen Clara Bow, and our second true sound film. It is also the first time we've seen Fredric March, and the first movie we've seen directed by Dorothy Arzner -- one of the very few woman directors of this time.
Clara Bow plays a student at a women's college, and Fredric March plays one of the professors. They become romantically involved, contrary to college rules. This film has some of the content that one would guess from its title -- drinking and dancing by reckless, carefree young people, very much evoking the received image of the 1920s -- but there are also a fair amount of plot machinations revolving around the progress of March and Bow's relationship, and their efforts to keep it secret. Though I've seen performances by March elsewhere that I enjoyed, here he is rather unappealing; in addition to the inappropriate nature of his interest in Bow, he is also a misanthrope, calling other students "morons" -- and he treats Bow badly, sometimes ignoring her, other times scolding. Bow, on the other hand, displays the same high-spirited charisma that she did in Wings -- and although it turned out that at just 24 she was already on the back-end of her career, I think this movie makes a good case that this wasn't due to a lack of ability. She occasionally mugs or gestures a hair too much, but no more than one would expect from a silent veteran in her first sound film.
In the end the relationship between March and Bow is so flawed that it is hard to recommend this film -- and the ending unfortunately adds a sour little coda. The acting too is a bit off, with odd pauses and word emphases -- the result no doubt of everyone's initial foray into sound acting on film. The creaky technology doesn't help matters; the sound is muddy, and we missed snatches of dialog here and there. The bare-bones DVD we watched would definitely have benefited from an option for subtitles.
Our next film is Linda, our eighth from 1929, starring Helen Foster, whom we last saw in 1928's terrible The Road to Ruin. The link, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Wild Party was our seventh film from 1929, the second time we've seen Clara Bow, and our second true sound film. It is also the first time we've seen Fredric March, and the first movie we've seen directed by Dorothy Arzner -- one of the very few woman directors of this time.
Clara Bow plays a student at a women's college, and Fredric March plays one of the professors. They become romantically involved, contrary to college rules. This film has some of the content that one would guess from its title -- drinking and dancing by reckless, carefree young people, very much evoking the received image of the 1920s -- but there are also a fair amount of plot machinations revolving around the progress of March and Bow's relationship, and their efforts to keep it secret. Though I've seen performances by March elsewhere that I enjoyed, here he is rather unappealing; in addition to the inappropriate nature of his interest in Bow, he is also a misanthrope, calling other students "morons" -- and he treats Bow badly, sometimes ignoring her, other times scolding. Bow, on the other hand, displays the same high-spirited charisma that she did in Wings -- and although it turned out that at just 24 she was already on the back-end of her career, I think this movie makes a good case that this wasn't due to a lack of ability. She occasionally mugs or gestures a hair too much, but no more than one would expect from a silent veteran in her first sound film.
In the end the relationship between March and Bow is so flawed that it is hard to recommend this film -- and the ending unfortunately adds a sour little coda. The acting too is a bit off, with odd pauses and word emphases -- the result no doubt of everyone's initial foray into sound acting on film. The creaky technology doesn't help matters; the sound is muddy, and we missed snatches of dialog here and there. The bare-bones DVD we watched would definitely have benefited from an option for subtitles.
Our next film is Linda, our eighth from 1929, starring Helen Foster, whom we last saw in 1928's terrible The Road to Ruin. The link, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Hallelujah (1929)
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
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
The Man and the Moment (1929)
Originally posted to Facebook on 3/2/2019
The Man and the Moment was our fifth film from 1929, and the second partial talkie. It had perhaps a half-a-dozen scenes with audible dialog, significantly more than the three such scenes in the previous partial talkie we watched, 1928's Lonesome. Even during the talking scenes, though, there were title cards -- but that was an artifact of its restoration, rather than what audiences saw at the time.
Rod La Rocque plays an idly rich bachelor, and Billie Dove (whom we previously saw in 1926's The Black Pirate) plays an aviator. They devise a scheme to marry one another, so that La Rocque can avoid getting married to a character played by Gwen Lee, and Dove can avoid having her guardian essentially put her under house arrest. By the fact that she has a guardian, I imagine that we are supposed to infer that she is not yet an adult (though Dove herself was 26 at the time) which makes the whole film rather troubling. Another weakness is the contrived nature of major plot points. There would have been no film if La Rocque had clearly told Lee that he wasn't going to marry her, or if Dove had waited the (presumably short) amount of time until she was no longer subject to a guardianship -- both of which seem far simpler solutions to their respective problems than a sham marriage. In any case, as you would expect in a romantic comedy of this kind, they end up developing feelings for one another.
When initially hatching this plot they have a long pre-code discussion about how they wouldn't actually have sex during the marriage, the execution of which illustrates the main problem of the film. It starts out a little bit amusing, but the dialog is slow and unnatural, and the same joke is made several times over a period of several minutes. By the end the kids were literally laughing at how drawn-out the scene was. It doesn't seem fair to blame anyone in particular for this, given the infancy of sound, but Dove acquits herself much better than La Rocque, in this scene and in the movie in general. She gives a performance not too far from the typical acting style a few years later. La Rocque is not at that level; his delivery is slow and wooden, particularly when he is delivering ostensibly witty dialog. The fast-talking leading men of the thirties were clearly still a few years away.
To an even greater extent than Lonesome, this film would have been stronger as a silent, mainly because of the unevenly delivered dialog. But it also would have been stronger if it had been funnier, or cared about its characters a little more.
Our next film will be Hallelujah, our sixth from 1929, our first true sound film, our first musical, and our second film with a predominantly African-American cast. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
The Man and the Moment was our fifth film from 1929, and the second partial talkie. It had perhaps a half-a-dozen scenes with audible dialog, significantly more than the three such scenes in the previous partial talkie we watched, 1928's Lonesome. Even during the talking scenes, though, there were title cards -- but that was an artifact of its restoration, rather than what audiences saw at the time.
Rod La Rocque plays an idly rich bachelor, and Billie Dove (whom we previously saw in 1926's The Black Pirate) plays an aviator. They devise a scheme to marry one another, so that La Rocque can avoid getting married to a character played by Gwen Lee, and Dove can avoid having her guardian essentially put her under house arrest. By the fact that she has a guardian, I imagine that we are supposed to infer that she is not yet an adult (though Dove herself was 26 at the time) which makes the whole film rather troubling. Another weakness is the contrived nature of major plot points. There would have been no film if La Rocque had clearly told Lee that he wasn't going to marry her, or if Dove had waited the (presumably short) amount of time until she was no longer subject to a guardianship -- both of which seem far simpler solutions to their respective problems than a sham marriage. In any case, as you would expect in a romantic comedy of this kind, they end up developing feelings for one another.
When initially hatching this plot they have a long pre-code discussion about how they wouldn't actually have sex during the marriage, the execution of which illustrates the main problem of the film. It starts out a little bit amusing, but the dialog is slow and unnatural, and the same joke is made several times over a period of several minutes. By the end the kids were literally laughing at how drawn-out the scene was. It doesn't seem fair to blame anyone in particular for this, given the infancy of sound, but Dove acquits herself much better than La Rocque, in this scene and in the movie in general. She gives a performance not too far from the typical acting style a few years later. La Rocque is not at that level; his delivery is slow and wooden, particularly when he is delivering ostensibly witty dialog. The fast-talking leading men of the thirties were clearly still a few years away.
To an even greater extent than Lonesome, this film would have been stronger as a silent, mainly because of the unevenly delivered dialog. But it also would have been stronger if it had been funnier, or cared about its characters a little more.
Our next film will be Hallelujah, our sixth from 1929, our first true sound film, our first musical, and our second film with a predominantly African-American cast. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Escape from Dartmoor (1929)
Originally posted to Facebook on 2/3/2019
Escape from Dartmoor was our fourth film from 1929 - a British thriller very much in the Hitchcock mode, but directed by Anthony Asquith.
In fact, based on the two Hitchcock silents we've seen (1927's The Lodger and 1929's Blackmail), this is a better thriller than Hitchcock himself was producing at this time; both of those films had excellent sequences, but also significant flaws, while this film is of a more consistent quality. It opens stylishly, with a man escaping from Dartmoor prison, and breaking into a house. From there the film flashes back to the events leading up to his imprisonment -- the origins of which begin with a love triangle made up of Uno Henning, Hans Schlettow, and Norah Baring. Henning and Baring work in a barber shop together, and Schlettow is a customer whom Baring seems to like -- which doesn't sit well with Henning. Tension and misunderstandings build steadily. In addition to the main plot, there is a very meta sequence in which the lead characters go to a movie theater transitioning to sound -- which the film posits is not popular with audiences. That judgment could not have been more wrong -- but the movie's strongest argument for silent film is not that scene, but the spare, efficient way in which it builds its story.
Of the three leads only Baring was English -- with Schlettow being German and Henning Swedish -- which of course mattered not at all in a silent. Schlettow is the only one we've seen before, appearing as Hagen Tronje in Fritz Lang's 1924 Die Nibelungen films, and also in a small role in the film we saw just previous, Pandora's Box.
Our next film is The Man and the Moment, our fifth film from 1929, our second partial talkie, and the second time we've seen Billie Dove. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Escape from Dartmoor was our fourth film from 1929 - a British thriller very much in the Hitchcock mode, but directed by Anthony Asquith.
In fact, based on the two Hitchcock silents we've seen (1927's The Lodger and 1929's Blackmail), this is a better thriller than Hitchcock himself was producing at this time; both of those films had excellent sequences, but also significant flaws, while this film is of a more consistent quality. It opens stylishly, with a man escaping from Dartmoor prison, and breaking into a house. From there the film flashes back to the events leading up to his imprisonment -- the origins of which begin with a love triangle made up of Uno Henning, Hans Schlettow, and Norah Baring. Henning and Baring work in a barber shop together, and Schlettow is a customer whom Baring seems to like -- which doesn't sit well with Henning. Tension and misunderstandings build steadily. In addition to the main plot, there is a very meta sequence in which the lead characters go to a movie theater transitioning to sound -- which the film posits is not popular with audiences. That judgment could not have been more wrong -- but the movie's strongest argument for silent film is not that scene, but the spare, efficient way in which it builds its story.
Of the three leads only Baring was English -- with Schlettow being German and Henning Swedish -- which of course mattered not at all in a silent. Schlettow is the only one we've seen before, appearing as Hagen Tronje in Fritz Lang's 1924 Die Nibelungen films, and also in a small role in the film we saw just previous, Pandora's Box.
Our next film is The Man and the Moment, our fifth film from 1929, our second partial talkie, and the second time we've seen Billie Dove. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Pandora's Box (1929)
Originally posted to Facebook on 1/12/2019
Pandora's Box is our third film from 1929, and the second time we've seen Louise Brooks, after 1928's Beggars of Life. It was directed by G. W. Pabst and based on two plays by Frank Wedekind.
Though we have so far seen a number of European stars and directors come to the United States to make movies (e.g. Victor Sjöström, F. W. Murnau, Conrad Veidt), Brooks is possibly the only prominent American star we've seen shift to European films. In this film she plays Lulu, who is young and vivacious, but also selfish and duplicitous -- which is quite different than the pensive and timid character she played in Beggars of Life. She is in an ongoing relationship with Dr. Schön (played by Fritz Kortner), but also ends up in a love triangle with his son Alwa (Francis Lederer). Kortner is engaged to another woman, and is aware that his relationship with Brooks is self-destructive -- even saying at one point, "It'll be the death of me." A family friend, played by Alice Roberts, is infatuated with Lulu as well -- which was not entirely clear to us until well into the film. ("Why is she glaring at Lulu?" we wondered.) Needless to say this subplot was very unusual for the time.
The film is divided into two parts, which I believe correspond to the two plays on which it is based. The first part, which concerns the trajectory of the relationship between Kortner and Brooks, has a more focused narrative (and is, I believe, more successful) than the the second, which deals with the aftermath. The first portion tells a complete story, and in fact could stand alone as a cohesive film with only minor modifications. I am not sure that is true of the second portion, which is more fragmented.
Next week we see Escape from Dartmoor, a 1929 thriller directed by Anthony Asquith. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Pandora's Box is our third film from 1929, and the second time we've seen Louise Brooks, after 1928's Beggars of Life. It was directed by G. W. Pabst and based on two plays by Frank Wedekind.
Though we have so far seen a number of European stars and directors come to the United States to make movies (e.g. Victor Sjöström, F. W. Murnau, Conrad Veidt), Brooks is possibly the only prominent American star we've seen shift to European films. In this film she plays Lulu, who is young and vivacious, but also selfish and duplicitous -- which is quite different than the pensive and timid character she played in Beggars of Life. She is in an ongoing relationship with Dr. Schön (played by Fritz Kortner), but also ends up in a love triangle with his son Alwa (Francis Lederer). Kortner is engaged to another woman, and is aware that his relationship with Brooks is self-destructive -- even saying at one point, "It'll be the death of me." A family friend, played by Alice Roberts, is infatuated with Lulu as well -- which was not entirely clear to us until well into the film. ("Why is she glaring at Lulu?" we wondered.) Needless to say this subplot was very unusual for the time.
The film is divided into two parts, which I believe correspond to the two plays on which it is based. The first part, which concerns the trajectory of the relationship between Kortner and Brooks, has a more focused narrative (and is, I believe, more successful) than the the second, which deals with the aftermath. The first portion tells a complete story, and in fact could stand alone as a cohesive film with only minor modifications. I am not sure that is true of the second portion, which is more fragmented.
Next week we see Escape from Dartmoor, a 1929 thriller directed by Anthony Asquith. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Asphalt (1929)
Originally posted to Facebook on 1/8/2019
Asphalt was our second film from 1929, and our second starring Gustav Fröhlich, after 1927's Metropolis. It is the first film we've seen directed by Joe May, and also the first time we've seen Betty Amann, the female lead.
Fröhlich plays a policeman, who helps to apprehend Amann attempting to rob a jewelry store. He is sympathetic, and ends up having to cover his tracks as he gets involved in a relationship with her. This is complicated by the fact that his father, played by Albert Steinrück (whom we saw as the chief Rabbi in 1920's The Golem), is also a policeman. The movie is efficiently paced, with relatively few title cards, and a running time of just about 90 minutes. The only sequence that seemed a bit extraneous was a five minute scene set in France, depicting a surprisingly detailed bank heist -- which seemed to have no other purpose than to establish that Amann's significant other was a criminal -- a fact which surely could have been communicated more quickly and without breaking up the flow of the main plot.
A lot has been written about the connection between noir and expressionism, and although that transition mostly occurred in Hollywood, I think this could be classified as an early proto-noir -- in the sense that the protagonist finds himself being pulled deeper into trouble, with Amann filling the femme fatale role (and incidentally looking quite similar to Louise Brooks.) It's stylishly shot, but more grounded in reality and not as flamboyantly expressionistic as the films we've seen by Lang or Murnau.
Speaking of Louise Brooks, next week we'll move on to one of her most famous roles in Pandora's Box, our third film from 1929. This will be the second time we've seen her, after 1928's Beggars of Life a few weeks ago. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
Asphalt was our second film from 1929, and our second starring Gustav Fröhlich, after 1927's Metropolis. It is the first film we've seen directed by Joe May, and also the first time we've seen Betty Amann, the female lead.
Fröhlich plays a policeman, who helps to apprehend Amann attempting to rob a jewelry store. He is sympathetic, and ends up having to cover his tracks as he gets involved in a relationship with her. This is complicated by the fact that his father, played by Albert Steinrück (whom we saw as the chief Rabbi in 1920's The Golem), is also a policeman. The movie is efficiently paced, with relatively few title cards, and a running time of just about 90 minutes. The only sequence that seemed a bit extraneous was a five minute scene set in France, depicting a surprisingly detailed bank heist -- which seemed to have no other purpose than to establish that Amann's significant other was a criminal -- a fact which surely could have been communicated more quickly and without breaking up the flow of the main plot.
A lot has been written about the connection between noir and expressionism, and although that transition mostly occurred in Hollywood, I think this could be classified as an early proto-noir -- in the sense that the protagonist finds himself being pulled deeper into trouble, with Amann filling the femme fatale role (and incidentally looking quite similar to Louise Brooks.) It's stylishly shot, but more grounded in reality and not as flamboyantly expressionistic as the films we've seen by Lang or Murnau.
Speaking of Louise Brooks, next week we'll move on to one of her most famous roles in Pandora's Box, our third film from 1929. This will be the second time we've seen her, after 1928's Beggars of Life a few weeks ago. The list, as always, is here: https://bit.ly/2lZtfmT
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