Tears of two clowns… Klovnen (1917) and Klovnen (1926), DFI online streaming

I believe it was Samuel Johnson who said that when a man is tired of films about sad clowns, he is tired of life; for there is in films about sad clowns, all that life can afford… Even if it wasn’t, whoever it was, is almost certainly correct. There’s simply no end of fascination in close ups of strained pasty made up faces, tears trickling slowly through layers of greasepaint as he who laughs last, last laughs, desiccated heart cracked by tragedy and lost love. You know.

 

Danish director AW Sandberg certainly agreed as he made this story twice, once in 1916 with Danish superstar Valdemar Psilander and again in 1926 with Swedish heartthrob, Gösta Ekman with the English title of The Golden Clown. Both are exceptional films and I’m not here to grade them because each is as equally impressive even if technique, story and length vary. Sandberg knew this was a pure and powerful tale and worked with major talents to present timeless tales of ambition, sexual distraction and love’s labour’s lost.

 

Valdemar Psilander

I watched 1926 first before turning back to 1917 and the fact it stood up so well is testament to how well it was made and also its extraordinary energy; this really feels like a passion project.  This script was co-written with Laurids Skands and features cinematography from Karl Storm Petersen who captures the thrills of the circus along with the emotional intensity from the performers. Sets are from Axel Bruun who worked with August Blom on Atlantis, The End of the World and Trip to Mars and presents the backstage dread and circus sawdust equally well.

 

Psilander plays Joe Higgins, a clown in a small regional circus run by ringmaster Bunding (Peter Fjelstrup) and his wife (Amanda Lund). Their daughter Daisy (Gudrun Houlberg) performs tricks whilst riding a horse and, is a wonderfully natural performer as well as, possibly, rider – it’s hard to tell whether she’s actually on the horse; great editing and stunt work combined. I particularly liked the off-stage excitement as the performers crowd around in preparation, clambering over themselves to watch the action in the ring; excitedly waiting their turn.

 

Excitement in the wings: Peter Fjelstrup, Valdemar Psilander and Gudrun Houlberg 

Having caught these moments, it’s easy to warm to Joe’s act, a singing clown who radiates good humour to the crowd as he follows his sweetheart’s horseplay. It’s a happy circus but, inevitably, this clown will have to run away as he’s talent spotted by showrunners from the big city. He doesn’t leave alone though as he insists that Daisy and her parents accompany him on his adventure, little realising that of the four of them, she will be changed the most.

 

Fast forward a year and Joe’s a huge success, delighting audiences in the major theatres but Daisy’s attention is being drawn by rich philanderer Count Henri (Robert Schmidt) who flatters her for his own amusement as Joe performs. Their dalliance in the wings of the hall is revealed as a section of scenery is removed revealing their embrace in a mirror as Joe sits in his changing room. He smashes the mirror and whilst he covers his devastation for the cast and crew, refuses to stand in the way of what he, tragically, believes is Daisy’s new love.

 

Robert Schmidt's Count tempts Gudrun Houlberg's Daisy

But the Count is less than impressed when Daisy arrives on his doorstep and is soon bored with her, she tries to return to the life she knew but her father’s pride stands in the way of allowing his disgraced daughter back. Has Daisy’s distraction ruined her and Joe’s life for nothing and what, if anything will be the revenge of a clown scorned?

 

The tragedy and most of the story remains the same for 1926 when Sandberg along with new co-writer Poul Knudsen, and a much bigger budget, produced a more elaborate film of twice the length. This time it’s Gösta Ekman ‘s turn, fresh from staring in Murnau’s Faust (1926) and many more, including Victor Sjostrom’s brilliant Vem dömer (1922) – with fellow Swedish genius Jenny Hasselqvist. Ekman was a hugely influential performer and whilst his looks and style are more recognisably “modern” than Psilander the latter, along with compatriot Asta Nielsen, played a key role in the development of cinematic acting, recognising that: “You can probably learn how to become an actor, but you can't learn how to stand in front of the camera… Cinema requires frankness and sincerity in a ruthless way.”

 

Valdemar played guitar...

Psilander tragically took his own life – Klovnen was released after his death - and so we didn’t get to see how his career progressed. No doubt Ekman learned from him how to translate his theatrical expertise on camera and here he gives an eye-wateringly powerful performance infusing his “Joe” with circus strangeness as well as an open-hearted brittleness – the honesty Psilander spoke of.

 

His Daisy is the rather fine Karina Bell who was in The House of Shadows (1924) as featured on this blog last year – also streaming from the DFI site. She’s a more intricate performer than the more robust Gudrun Houlberg, but then she has not only that decade of screen acting evolution but also technical and stylistic advances enabling the capture of her compellingly winsome emoting.

 

Karina Bell, always ready for her close-up

Christen Jørgensen is the cinematographer and he captures the stars in close ups as we as larger scale productions – Joe’s performances in the larger theatres are on a grand scale, with clowns stacked up around him as he sings, it’s enough to make Busby Berkley blush – whilst there’s also excellent footage of Paris, that gives a real sense of place and more substance to the difference between the bucolic world of country circus and the bigger business of show in the city.  

 

Daisy’s distraction by the wolfish Marcel Phillipe (Robert Schmidt), this time a fashion designer - is presented in subtler ways and just about her first surrender to his insistence at the theatre is the moment exposed, again, by the moving scenery – this time by a jealous stagehand – and revealed in Jim’s mirror. Jim takes Marcel and Daisy for a walk to discuss the infidelity and, with nothing really to say, the Count peels off to allow the couple’s romantic wires to cross and detach through moments of painfully sad reticence.

Gösta Ekman, funk to funky...

A moments weakness ends up costing them their happiness and Daisy is gradually disappointed by Marcel’s inability to commit as he humiliates her by flirting with one of his younger models, highlighting her mistake in ever trusting in his heart or fidelity. Meanwhile Joe’s focus and career nosedive as he drinks himself down the rungs of his profession little suspecting that he and Daisy had more to unite them than he ever realised.

 

There are good supporting performances from Maurice de Féraudy as Daisy’s father and Circus Director James Bunding as well as Kate Fabian as his wife. Both characters have more to do than space allowed in the first film all of which makes Daisy’s rejection all the more heart breaking. The finale plays out with more complexity and with an extra twist that I shall not reveal. Hopefully I’ve steered clear of too much spoiling and have encouraged you to watch both films.

Rural bliss

 

Klovnen (1917) is on the DFI site here and Klovnen/The Golden Clown (1926) is here… the latter has English title cards which will help you understand the former which has only danish. The 1926 film also has ace accompaniment from Ronen Thalmay which fits the emotional journey like a big red pair of clown shoes, weaving lovely sad lines across the scenario as delicately as Gosta’s tears transcribe his character’s misery.

 

Thank you DFI. So many films to see, and rather more time on our hands than we ever expected!