Here’s Hobart! Behind the Door (1919), Neil Brand, BFI

I was slightly confused by what sounded like a war story being termed as one of the first great horror films until Behind the Door showed its true colours as the unmentionable became undeniable and the limits to which Hobart Bosworth could take human rage were defined in the crowd-silencing dénouement.

Well, almost silent, there was a nervous laugh but you don’t get off that lightly man in row C… still thinking about it I’ll bet!

If Edgar Allen Poe scripted silent films they’d all be a bit like this one although for much of the film, you just wouldn’t necessarily see the closing sequences coming. There are indicators though including the moment when Bosworth’s character, Oscar Krug, fights the alpha males of his village after they make the sadly all too modern assumption that if he has a foreign name he must be “alien” and disloyal. Well, he proves them wrong and whups the lot in one of the most blood-caked and realistic slugfests of the era.

Not bad for a fifty-something and to cap it all he even gets the girl, Alice Morse (the 23-year old Jane Novak). Bosworth still looks handy and he has a rare intensity that not only makes him a convincing pugilist and leader of men but also a taxidermist with a lighter side… A young girl’s dolly gets run over by a cart – for a second you think it might be a child – and Krug stiches it together good as new.

The film flashes backwards and forwards so many times you almost forget who the “narrator” is and I’m looking forward to re-watching when the Flicker Alley DVD is released next month to see how the opening moments marry up with the last.

It’s 1926, or thereabouts and a silver haired sailor has finally returned home, resting at the grave of his best friend, Bill Tavish (James Gordon), the only one who would have greeted him. He makes his way into town and to a dilapidated taxidermist’s shop where local boys throw stones through the windows and he no longer has the strength to stop them.

He enters and collapses onto his worktop as he finds a piece of fabric… it was hers, the woman he loved and, presumably, lost.

Hobart Bosworth

We go back to 1917, when he was happy with Alice, daughter of weasely local bank manager Matthew Morse (J. P. Lockney) who disapproves of his daughter seeing this former sailor.

Things come to a head when America enters the war and, encouraged by banker Morse, the locals decide that hangin’s too good for anyone with a Geman name even one who was born in the USA and has already served his country.

Jane Novak

Oscar sees them off and earns the eternal respect of Tavish and the two enlist for the war. As they set sail, Alice, having been disowned for marrying her man, joins him on his voyage, stowing away as a nurse but, just as they are reunited, a U-Boat spots them and unleashes a torpedo amidships: the vessel has no chance but Oscar will do what every captain and husband would do.

After days at sea in a rudderless lifeboat, Oscar and Alice look doomed but then a submarine arrives and they think it’s salvation. The submarine is the same one that sank their ship and is captained by Lieutenant Brandt (Wallace Beery), a man for whom the word ruthless could have been invented and whose hand is offered not in friendship to Alice but with far more sinister motive.

Wallace Beery

He takes her and leaves Oscar to drown… pretty much the same level of foolhardy provocation as leaving Liam Neilson your mobile phone number after kidnapping his daughter.

I’ll stop the story here as to say anymore will spoil the brutal surprises in store: see it and be shocked!

Tonight’s show featured  Neil Brand accompanying and was sold out – Bryony Dixon was delighted as were those of us lucky enough to grab a ticket! (Don’t despair, there’s some good news down below… )

Robert Byrne, President of the San Francisco Silent Film Festival introduced and described Neil’s playing as bringing the film to life and so he did from the almost homely early sequences to the bloody battle, torpedo strike and the sickly horrors of the close he was on top of the story, synchronising style and substance with a practiced edge.

This restoration has been a labour of love for Robert who professed to knowing every frame after years of involvement in merging three sources together including some key action sequences acquired from Hobart Bosworth’s personal collection. The film is almost complete and thanks to original source materials they were able to use the original title script on the Russian print that formed the majority of this nearly lost film.

The restoration also includes the tints and tones that director Irvin Willat used in atypical ways to strengthen his narrative: not just red for anger and blue for night; the colours and the feelings run far deeper than that.

The Flicker Alley DVD/BluRay is released on 4^th April and features Stephen Horne along with a host of extras. You can order it direct.

The film is being screened again with Stephen playing his score live at the BFI on 1^st April – I would urge you to book right now to avoid disappointment – one of the silent shocks of the year awaits you! Don’t miss it!!

The Communards… The New Babylon (1929), Sasha Grynyuk, LSO St Luke’s

Dmitri Shostakovich spent three years as a jobbing silent film accompanist prior to writing the music for this film, the directors asked if he could put something together in three weeks but he told them he could do it quicker with their help and the precocious pianist wasn’t to disappoint.

Shostakovich’s original score for this film was so perfectly synchronised with the rapid cutting that it proved all but impossible to perform after the Moscow Sovkino office ordered the removal of a fifth of the film. Directors Grigori Kozintsev and Leonid Trauberg created state of the art cinema that featured extensive montage that suited the fleet fingers of the 23-year old composer but which was fatally out-of-step once trimmed to suit official tastes.

The New Babylon

This was a UK premier for the film and score as originally intended… a story of the Parisian revolt against the defeated Second Republic originally subtitled Assault on the Heavens: Episodes from the Franco-Prussian War and the Paris Commune, 1870-71.

Shostakovich wrote about the scoring process saying that he was aiming to capture the tone of the film and not give a musical blow-by-blow account of the narrative. Informed by his day job he included multiple references, popular dances like the Can-Can a cluster of notes quickly morphed into the larger picture, a flavouring that doesn’t stay specific for long enough to distract from the tone on screen.

He also included emotional counterpoints and something like musical sarcasm as events turn against our heroes as they are ruthlessly supressed by their compatriots applauded by a bourgeoisie more concerned with their own deals than La Republic.

Drudgery above and below

It’s a masterclass in film composition and one that could only have been achieved by a practiced accompanist. So, even though we had the grand Steinway in the concert hall reverence of LSO St Luke’s, Ukrainian pianist Sasha Grynyuk was channelling music of the water-logged fleapits this film was originally shown in.

John Leman Riley, author of Shostakovich: A Life in Film introduced and described the run down premiers of The New Babylon in its original form. Ninety years later we got to see something like the original film with only the ending, explained with title cards, missing (what remains is still powerful) and with the score as originally envisaged. Everything comes to those who wait… eventually… sometimes.

Prussians advance

The war of 1870 marked the changing of the guard in Europe with the modern, industrialised army of Prussia cutting through the dated complacency of the French… or so my A-Level history essay might have gone. France lost and lost badly and in the ensuing power vacuum exploded a revolutionary alternative.

The Commune was brutally supressed but signalled huge changes in the political balance just as surely as the military balance had been shaken by the success of the new Prussian Army. Not surprisingly, it remained an inspiration for the Soviets… a reminder to all of the decadence that must inevitably give way to socialist progression. 1870-71: Twentieth Century Prelude, as my essay might have been entitled…

Amused to death, as Paris falls...

Kozintsev and Trauberg assumed a certain level of knowledge of these key events and don’t bother too much with the specifics: whether under siege form the Prussians or barricading themselves off from their own army, The Communards are the heroes throughout – likely to be oppressed and ground down unless they take this chance to fight for their rights. The struggle will be glorious and even as they face their own demise, they know that their endeavours will inspire others: more communes will come and the callous bosses of business, politics and war will eventually be defeated.

The action centres on a department store, The New Babylon, in which works a young woman Louise (Elena Kuzmina). She catches the eye of the shop’s owner (David Gutman) who has designs and invites her to a night out at the follies.

Trouble with the supervisor...

From the outset, the film is focused on visual expression more than narrative exposition and is in visual alignment with its composer’s approach to the score: there are some big dramatic moments but these come through in the midst of the film’s dazzling emotionalism, they do not drive the response per se.

The two directors also anchor the story on a strong cast of characters from the journalist Loutro (Sergei Gerasimov), the actress (Sofiya Magarill), milliner Teresa (Yanina Zhejmo), national guardsman (Eugene Chervyakov), communard (Oleg Zhakov) and others. The events whirl around them but it’s the close up response of these individuals that tells the tale.

Do the right thing...

At the centre is the relationship between Louise and an everyman soldier, Jean (Pyotr Sobolevsky). The restoration includes more detail of the romantic side of their liaison and yet it is politics that really passes between them. Louise refuses to be compromised by her boss and quits her job when his favouritism saves her from being laid off. But Jean goes with the flow even though you can see the absolute horror in his eyes from the outset.

Even Louise urgings cannot pull him away from defeated conformity. He has fought himself into the ground and has only strength enough only to just carry on; fear and depravation allow him only survival compliance whilst they drive Louise on.

As the Prussian victory is followed by the establishment of the Commune, Jean is one of the soldiers used to defeat the uprising and, in the end he is one of those clearing up the insurgents. At some point Jean will turn… just as surely as the revolution will eventually be complete.

Cobbles and mud: the tracks of a defeated army

The film has some stunning imagery from the whirl of the can-can to the rush of the cavalry, and the Commune defeated as the bourgeoisie safely picnic on some faraway hill applauding as they would in the theatre. The cinematography from Andrei Moskvin and Yevgeny Mikhailov captured the troops sunken in muddy retreat, the rage of betrayal and an emotional scale beyond most Western cinema of the time.

Their light re-projected through to the St Luke’s screen and Shostakovich’s quicksilver expression relayed through Sasha Grynyuk's playing: The New Babylon was a fresh, visceral experience full of original feeling and a sense of connection to revolutions past though still present.

Elena Kuzmina

Back to my A-Levels and I remember watching Kozintsev’s last film, King Lear (1971) taken not by our English teacher but our History teacher… of course.

The audience awaits at St Luke's