Mssrs Horne and Brock take the applause in the Piazza Maggiore |
Il Cinema Ritrovato is an experience that leaves you
emotionally disrupted, it’s not just all that time spent in darkened cinemas,
the relentless watching, pattern recognition, interpretation but also the human
connections on screen and off… it leaves you open, and delightfully vulnerable
to the enhanced flavours on screen and, in the case of silent film, the invention
of the accompanists. Here we had two outstanding new scores that, coupled with
the sense of occasion, location and performance produced moments of engagement
modern studios would barely comprehend.
The best silent scores don’t pummel you into submission with
dozens of drums, decibels and Dolby, they embrace the visuals in sympathy with
the narrative and the actors, they duet with the directors and audience to connect
our sympathy and imagination, interpret our response and subtly guide it too; a
multi-verse of meaning, one that opens up a portal removing you from reality… irresistible
forces, for un-resisting volunteers for a kind of magic.
This is no job for anything less than the most experienced
of compositional pilots though and in the Piazza Maggiore and then the Teatro
Auditorium Manzoni, first Stephen Horne and then Timothy Brock, who conducted
the Orchestra del Teatro Comunale di Bologna, provided scores that enhanced two
of the very finest Hollywood performances and silent films. Consider them as
restorers, replicating the high impact of these films’ first screenings, Time
Lords able to whisk us back to the feelings our grandparents felt. We are all
companions now.
Helen Morgan in Applause |
There was also an emerging theme across the programme this
year – Rouben Mamoulian’s early talkie Applause (1929) featuring another
selfless matriarch with Helen Morgan’s Kitty Darling - and one that was at the
heart-breaking centre of both these films; the sacrifice of mothers willing to
lose everything so that their daughters might succeed. If you think that sounds
corny, take a break from the 21st Century and think back to the
women who made a difference in your own family; Jenny, Jessie, Lil, Mabel… they
all changed the course and there were entire generations watching just these
films.
Stella Dallas (1925)
Directed by Henry King and adapted by Frances Marion from Olive
Higgins Prouty's novel, Stella Dallas of course walks that fine line
between melodrama and drama. It features characters bound by the constraints of
their time and it perhaps a backwards view of social mores even for 1925 but,
the story was driven by grief as much as anything else. Prouty wrote the novel
soon after the death of her three-year old daughter in 1923 and I’m sure for
Prouty this was a case of if only; a tribute to the one lost and the lengths
she would have gone to if only she could have.
Any decent into pulpy drama is completely offset by the
fiercest performance from Belle Bennett who’s own 16-year-old son had also died
either just before she got the part or soon after: whatever the motivations her
Stella rings very true and every time I see watch it becomes greater with
Stephen’s score so sympathetic and emotionally intelligent.
Belle Bennett |
Stella herself, is something of a misfit, a woman of
ambition to escape her small-town working-class routes who becomes involved with
a rich businessman’s son, Stephen Dallas (Ronald Colman) who has fled from his
father’s suicide and disgrace only to start rising again after they marry. New
York calls Stephen to business success but Stella doesn’t want to leave the
town she knows so well and nor does she want to disrupt the upbringing of their
daughter Laurel (Lois Moran, 16-years old and playing both girl and woman in
one of the odder practices of the time).
The gap between mother and father grows and Stella spends
time with an earthy good-time fella name of Ed Munn (Jean Hersholt who is so
very good at playing bad) and needless to say this doesn’t sit well with
Stephen who misses the companionship of more refined women such as his former
sweetheart Helen Morrison (Alice Joyce) who is now widowed with three boys of
her own.
You can see the direction of travel but the humiliations
have only just begun as Laurel’s teacher spies Stella having fun with Ed and
expels her from school leaving her devastated when the rest of the class fail
to turn up for her 10th birthday party. The story moves on a few years and as Laurel
comes of age, she forms an attachment with a young rich boy called Richard Grosvenor
(Douglas Fairbanks, Jr 15 at the time!) but is ashamed of her mother with her
crude ways, working class manners and dress sense.
Stella overhears some of the rich set mocking her and begins
to think she can only be holding her daughter back. By this stage she and
Stephen have run aground and knowing of his attachment to Helen, Stella asks
her competitor directly for help… what follows shows her strength of character
and amidst the tragedy she shows her class in sacrifice something only another
mother truly understands during the film’s iconic closing sequence.
Faced with such intense emotional extremes, Stephen Horne’s
score is perfectly composed and he knows just how to under-score Belle’s
expressive restraint and combines with the actress to leave the audience
smiling through tears of recognition. Ben Palmer helped to orchestrate and
Timothy Brock superbly martialled the sixty-piece orchestra under the stars.
There’ll be a Blu-ray release at some point and hopefully further performances
of one of the great modern scores of this silent renaissance.
Lady Windermere’s Fan (1928)
Irene Rich and May Mcavoy |
As the cricketing Ashes started back in the UK, rain
unexpectedly stopped play in Bologna and the screening of Ernst Lubitsch’s take
on Oscar Wilde’s play was shifted to the splendid Teatro Auditorium Manzoni; a
purpose-built modern auditorium with splendid acoustics, all the better to experience
the power of Timothy Brock’s new score as conducted by him and played by the
mighty Orchestra del Teatro Comunale di Bologna.
Given the sophisticated wordplay of Oscar Wilde, he seems an
unlikely candidate for silent film but here Ernst Lubitsch takes on Oscar using
the wit and sophistication of his direction. Sure, there are some excellent
performances but Ernst’s inch-perfect positioning, cross-cutting and way with
purely visual messaging ensures that this take on a wordy, comedy of manners
works bursts into sensational silence on screen.
The director hardly needs to use title cards as the mood is
established, explained and maintained throughout in what is one of the neatest
of film: so balanced and perfectly timed, shot and performed… That “touch” is
fully in evidence now – the delicate use of key signifiers to lift the tale
above predictability and to convey small explosions of meaning in unexpected
ways. Take that fan, for example, it’s everywhere: a symbol of marital love, a
potential assault weapon, distraction under duress and incriminating evidence.
It’s just a fan but Lubitsch uses it to pivot the whole story.
All begins with Lady Windermere (May McAvoy) facing the troublesome decisions of where to seat her dinner guests at her impending birthday party: where to put the dashing and entertaining Lord Darlington (Ronald Colman on the wrong side again…), right next to her ladyship… at the head of the table perhaps? The Lord arrives to bring handsome substance to her reverie and, whilst she presumes he’s come to see her husband he has her more in mind which, frankly, is caddish behaviour. Meanwhile Lord Windermere (Bert Lytell) is discovering something just as disturbing as a Mrs. Edith Erlynne (Irene Rich) has written to him claiming to be his wife’s mother who was lost to disgrace a long time ago with her daughter having grown up believing her dead and a great moral example. Hold onto your hats, it’s going to be a bumpy ride…
Mrs. Erlynne’s elegant blackmail is expressed through sight
of a cheque and the Lord having to add a one to the five hundred he’s started
writing following one smiling glance… His wife must never know of her mother’s
disgrace and so she begins to lead an “extravagant” life with Windermere’s
support, “…not accepted by society but the subject of its gossip…”
There’s a terrific scene at the races when “society” spies
in fascination at the intriguing interloper: spy glasses from both men and
women including The Duchess of Berwick (Carrie Daumery) leader of the pack. We
see multiple points of view until Mrs E. sits down just in front of a group
including Lady Windermere her husband, admirer and the gossips. Examining the
back of her head with her binoculars the Duchess is delighted to see that Mrs E
is going slightly grey and then, seeing her jewels, ponders where her money
comes from. All wonderfully bitchy in Oscar Wilde’s immortal way.
Lord Lorton in pursuit |
Sat with them is one of London’s most eligible Lord Augustus
Lorton (Edward Martindel) who spies this fine filly and is intrigued. As the
lady leaves he follows with the director showing their pursuit in longshot,
small figures against a backdrop of advertisement-plastered walls: the view on
screen narrowing as Lord closes in on Lady… Lorton goes to visit and Lubitsch
uses the manner of his entrances to illustrate the developing relationship: at
first formal, waiting to be shown through by the maid and then advancing from
front door to drawing room with barely a pause: his familiarity only halted by
Edith’s last minute swerve: he’s keen.
Meanwhile Darlington can’t help himself and casts aspersions about Lord Windermere’s relationship with Edith. Lady W can scare believe it but sure enough she discovers chequebook evidence of multiple payments to this strange woman… Rumbled, Windermere refuses to reveal all and asks his wife to take his word. Things come to a head though as Windermere asks to re-introduce Edith to society at his wife’s birthday party but she threatens to use the lovely fan he has bought her to assault the interloper… Having invited Edith, Windermere’s un-invitation isn’t seen in time before she arrives to potential humiliation. Cue Lord Lorton who arrives to sweep her into the room – her daughter, the two men chasing her affections and so many idle tongues gathered all in one room…
Lady Windemere hedging her bets |
The film is Lubitsch in the raw; it’s very pared down with
the focus on character and movement. The sets are elegant and but, as with the
racecourse, recede far behind the foregrounded players all of whom are
sophisticated and in the cases of the main leads, sensitive. Wilde and Lubitsch
is a marriage made in Hollywood though: two men of subtle wit and piercing
insights into polite society constrained by manners and rules almost designed
to prevent happiness. Any triumph of love is almost accidental and always
against the odds: perhaps these folk aren’t much different from those who watch
them in the dark?
Timothy Brock’s score, powerful in the auditorium, every
section clear and characterful, matched the wit of director and source material
and breezes along delightfully in tune with Irene Rich’s powerhouse performance.
We overdosed on sheer style and verve, the applause long and repeated almost
congratulating ourselves for being there as much as the dozens of players on
stage. What a night and what a week!! Brava Bologna, Bellissima!!
Up in the gods waiting for the show to begin... and what a show! |
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