Long-time no see… Love, Life and Laughter (1923), London Film Festival Archive Gala with Meg Morley

This was one of those occasions when you walk out onto the Southbank with a spring in your step, cracking a wonky smile with a shard of bliss warming your core courtesy of Britain’s Queen of Happiness and Australia’s Princess of the Pianoforte. Music and movie combining in a genuinely soulful way to utterly change my mood on a rotten Brexit Thursday… forget all that, let’s have a laugh; let’s live a little… is precisely what Betty Balfour urged. It was enough to pierce the hide of even the saddest social media cynic…

Love, Life and Laughter has not had a public screening since 1923 and as the BFI’s Bryony Dixon said in her introduction, we have a cinema owner in Holland to thank for not returning the film to the distributors: this  last remaining copy was discovered only in 2012 and has now been wonderfully restored by the Institute at L’Immagine Ritrovata, Bolgna with the collaboration of the Eye Filmmuseum and support from the Eric Anker-Peterson Charity who have supported so many restorations including Napoleon and The Great White Silence.

Writer and director George Pearson who, it’s fair to say, was besotted with Betty, proposing on multiple occasions, certainly gives us a whole lot of Balfour with the actress featured in a sparkling array of costumes as an early outlier for Glam years before Bolan and Bowie’s parents even met. It may have been dull outside but no one was failing to be dazzled inside the picture houses by this slight but intensely bright woman from Chester-le-Street. As always, I imagine my grand parents watching this film especially my Nan, a tough lady from Liverpool who had brought up her siblings as well as herself; she was one for frippery but I could see her respecting Betty’s honest energy.

Parlour party frolicks

Pearson had already directed Balfour in four Squibs films – Squibs had even been an MP in 1923 – and this film was perhaps an attempt to move her persona on a little; rags to riches with the chance to show Betty’s stage craft as well as her extraordinary expressiveness. She’s often compared to Mary Pickford but there’s also a similarity with Clara Bow who could turn on an emotional sixpence and both carry a feeling that they’re drawing on a deep hurt. I can understand why L’Herbier cast her in Le Diable au cœur (Little Devil May Care) in 1928: she had the range and wipes the floor with Jaque Catelain which I suppose was the point.

Back here in Blighty, Betty is Tip-Toes, a chorus girl with ambition who is renting a room in a run-down tenement owned by A Balloon-Blower - an excellent Frank Stanmore with want-away hair topping off his pitch-perfect gurns – and his wife (Annie Esmond).

Upstairs in this charming wreck of a building is not Charles Farrell but Harry Jonas as The Boy, a novelist with ambition as well as the looks and soul to capture Tip-Toes heart. The Boy dreams of writing great miserable dramas and plans out a book called Tears of the World which sounds like at DW Griffith film. Tip-Toes tries to cheer him up and there’s a marvellous sequence at a party where the guests sing and dance; The Boy struggles to forget himself and is much happier with contemplative classical music at his friend’s house.

Mr and Mrs Balloon Blower

Meg Morley superbly matched the tone for these scenes and was totally in sync as another boy sang an earnest love song and Tip-Toes lifted the room with Yes, We Have No Bananas. Meg filled her accompaniment with rich moods and maintained a joyous flow throughout; duetting with Betty’s emotional lines with a freedom that an expert jazz player naturally brings. All the best players have a starting place and Meg is a jazz musician – more details on her site – and the improvisatory grounding in a group context enables her to bring her own quality to these accompaniments and it’s lovely to see her distinct style evolving. As they say back home; “go you good thing!”

Back to the film, the plot’s as thin as yer Mam’s favourite dishcloth and as convoluted as your Da’s excuses for being late home on payday but it matters not because this is all about Betty. Does she get her man? Does she even need a man? As it happens… you probably know the answer; this was an independent woman deciding on what she wants to do with her life and when. On getting her first major break she agrees to meet her bookish beau at their garret in exactly two years’ time: how will their fortunes have changed and will there still be love to go with the light and the laughter?

This was emotionally driven cinema of the highest order all thanks to this amazing woman. We’re lucky indeed to have this film and to be able to celebrate the diligence and craft of the BFI and all those involved in its restoration, it’s not Murnau or Sjostrom but it is a precious social document – it’s not just about Betty it’s about all those who loved her and laughed with her shining light on screen.

All images ripped from the BFI site with apologies! Looks great though eh?!