And, just like that, it was
over but not before a final day with some incredible highs and a desperate
search for a restaurant that wasn’t fully booked prior to the evening’s special
event. Amidst the cut and thrust of a silent film festival it’s possible to
completely forget that tonight was Saturday night and the locals were out for a
good time too even if it was strange for us to contemplate: no live
accompaniment, just recorded, not always sitting down or, indeed, sitting
quietly with outbursts of boisterousness that would certainly concern those she
say “shush” in the Verdi balconies.
Each to his own as we say in
the patriarchy and we had plenty of energy of our own for Neil Brand’s new score
for The Winning of Barbara Worth (1926) which was arranged by George
Morton, and performed live by the mighty Orchestra da Camera di Pordenone
conducted by Ben Palmer. Giornate artistic director, Jay Weissberg, described
before hand how Neil Brand had wanted to score a western and asked him for
suggestions and the film he had in mind had been a formative silent screening
for him and soon Neil was equally enamoured with this unusual story of civil
engineering and the human heart.
At the Kennington Bioscope Kevin
Brownlow once revealed that Samuel Goldwyn’s wife had been the Imelda Marcos of
silent film preservation. The great mogul had stored all of his films in her
closet and, in order to make room for her shoes, she cleared them out except
for the ones featuring Ronald Coleman and Gary Cooper. So, we have Mrs Goldwyn and
her fondness for these terribly ugly men, to thank for Barbara Worth still
being extant!
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| Vilma Bánky |
Despite their physical
shortcomings, these two men are two big reasons to celebrate this remarkable
film but it also features some of the most stunning cinematography of the era
and if you think Abel Gance was impressive in capturing equine movement on
frame than check out Henry King and his cinematographers George Barnes, Thomas
Branigan and Gregg Toland. Overwhelmed by this biggest of projections we could
almost be alongside Ronald and Gary as the sun-baked, sand-drenched, landscape
swirls around you in a crystal clear golden-yellow.
And on top of all that you
have Vilma Banky… born Vilma Koncsics in what is now Hungary and exported to
distract the Yankees as much as she causes both Coop and Ron to lose their
focus on business. The film starts like an outtake from Greed as a young
woman (Vilma Banky) buries her husband in the sand and then battles to save her
daughter from a sandstorm. It’s a brutal and photographed so clearly it could
have been made tomorrow. The woman perishes but her daughter, Barbara, is found
alive by a Mr Worth (Charles Willis Lane) and grows up to be played by Vilma.
The story then settles into Mr Worth and his business partner/rival, McDonald (Ed Brady) efforts to try to change the landscape by damming the Colorado River in order to irrigate the Californian plains. Coleman plays Willard Holmes who works with the rival whilst Cooper plays Abe Lee, the boy Barbara grew up with. Their romantic rivalry runs parallel to business as the mood gets mean as McDonald refuses to recognise the need for additional reinforcements on the dam… In a film like this that’s never a good sign. This all culminates in the inevitable flood and a terrifying sequence in which the townsfolk flee the deluge with not all making it. Henry King could also martial a cast of thousands and, looking back to 3 Bad Men, this is another classic silent human stampede.
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The implications of all this
for construction projects is clear in terms of risk management and the
importance of senior stakeholder buy-in for completion to full safety and
technical requirements. But I suppose the film was mostly about the spirit of
enterprise that made the West and the loves of the lovely people who exemplify
the best of humanity: civic minded and careful people who try to bring everyone
with them in the joint enterprise of society. Sadly, current political systems
lack many who are trained in Prince 2 project management and who care to put
people ahead of profit.
The score was quite simply huge,
with Mr Brand adopting a musical project management of his own in terms of
establishing clear objectives for mood and narrative cohesion and meeting every
single one in the most joyous and potent of ways. Tonal milestones – deserts,
sandstorms, epic landscapes, love, hate and everything in between – were nailed
with his schooling in seemingly the entirety of cinematic composition in
evidence mixed with his flair for melody. There were rousing themes that
pricked the hairs on the back of our necks and we fell in love with simply
everyone of the cast but especially Vilma!
As with his other scores,
Robin Hood, Blackmail, The Lodger et al, you feel that Neil builds out from the
heart of each film, working his way outwards in building a musical structure
that not only hangs off the narrative but supplements it. This is the very
essence of meeting specification and, with Mr Palmer swinging the baton, the
Orchestra Verdi lifted the roof and our spirits. We always hope for such a big
finish and, yet again, we got one.
Forgotten Faces (1928) with Stephen Horne
I’ll tell you someone else who always delivers on promise
and to spec, and that’s the mercurial Stephen Horne who here delivered one of
the biggest musical surprises of the week by “playing” silence during the nail-biting
sequence in which Clive Brook’s character leads his mortal enemy and ex-wife as
played by Olga Backlanova, up darkened stairs in the moments before she
realises who her mysterious guide is… it was unexpected, meta and perfectly
timed.
In this well-crafted family thriller, directed by Victor
Schertzinger, Olga plays a mixture of the shark in Jaws and Anthony Perkins’
character in Psycho, she is violently over the top and hysterical in every way
– the Jack Nicholson of her day! Against this Russian fire-cracker is faced the
utterly controlled Clive Brook as gentleman thief “Heliotrope” Harry who, along
with his trusted right-hand man, Froggy (William Powell) is responsible for the
most principled of crime sprees.
After one precisely-timed raid on a gambling house sees
the police arrive almost in time to catch them, Harry returns home to find his
wife Lilly in bed with another man as their baby daughter screams in the
hallway. He despatches the other man and, realising his jig is up, leaves his baby
with a well-to-do couple who he knows have recently lost a child before kindly
handing himself in. Froggy keeps tabs on the daughter whilst Harry duly serves
his time and she grows into Mary Brian, a fine young woman who he has given the
best chance in life.
But, when Lilly tricks Froggy into revealing her daughter’s
whereabouts and then taunts Harry in prison about taking her back, he knows he
must find a way to stop her. Can he do so without breaking his strict moral and
his promise to the prison governor not to harm his hellish ex?
OK, there are holes in this scenario but Brook is terrific,
such a measured performer – a Rolls Royce if you will – whilst Olga is Olga. MY
eyes may have moistened more than once, heart strings were tugged but on Brook
could make for such a charming criminal who is father first and foremost.
 |
| Desdemona Mazza, Ivor Novello and Gabriel de Gravone |
L’Appel du Sang (1919) with John Sweeney
After our musical Messi and Ronaldo, we also had the
compositional equivalent of Mo Salah with the studied elegance of Mr John
Sweeney accompanying Louis Mercanton’s tale of love, lies and longing set in
Sicily. John’s elegant lines made the most of this film’s spectacular scenery
from the island and also Rome, as well as the suitably classic love tangle passing
in front of both.
This was Ivor Novello’s film debut and his Maurice
Delarey is an odd creation, with even his wife, Hermione Lester (Phyllis
Neilson-Terry) describing him as “like a kid”, he’s immature, full of enquiry
and lust for life (his grandmother was from Sicily) unlike his bookish other
half and they make the most unconvincing of partnerships. Hermione has
disappointed her intellectual, much older, “best friend” Émile d'Arbois (Charles
Le Bargy aged 62 here) in marrying a man of her age (both actors were 27) if
not maturity.
She brings her new husband to the family pile in the
hills of Sicily and he spends all his time having adventures with Gaspare (Gabriel
de Gravone), one of the family retainers, including night fishing, yomping and
swimming… it’s hard not to impose a modern “coded” view of their relationship.
Interestingly both Novello and Neilson-Terry were cast to reflect the original
author’s descriptions and so the physical mismatch was intentional. Novello
looks so boyish and young and when he is in Sicily his Sicilian nature resurfaces,
bringing recklessness and compulsive behaviour. All that midday sun for the
Englishman – although, lets be honest, he was Welsh.
Hermione goes off to save d'Arbois who is dying in Africa
leaving Maurice free to explore further and to fall in love with the fisherman Salvatore
(Salvatore Lo Turco)’s daughter Maddalena (Desdemona Mazza) and there’s a
beautiful shot of them finally embracing, silhouetted in the half darkness of a
cave with the sea behind them. This can not be good though and to add
complication, Salvatore is a mad man with easy access to weaponry…
Overall a dreamy film, especially with John’s playing,
and worth it for the visuals and early Ivor!
The Red Dance (1928) with Masterclass student
Andra Bacila
This film’s approach to history could be said to be
exemplified by the appearance of an aircraft clearly not of 1917 vintage but
this is the least of its crimes against Russian history. In terms of its
treatment of Rasputin, the Boney M pop song, Rasputin, is more
historically accurate and the general depiction of white and red Russians as
inter-changeable baddies is mind wobbling given the century and more of poor treatment
the Tsars had imposed on the populace. Criticise the Revolution and outcomes by
all means but there were plenty of reasons for one to happen…
All this aside, Raoul Walsh’s mini-epic is, as you’d expect,
full of grand scale and great characters. Dolores del Río as Tasia, a
politicised activist determined that people should be able to read after the
Tsarist regime bans schooling and arresting her father and shooting her mother
on the spot in front of her blackboard and pupils. Ivan Linow plays Russian
Bear Ivan Petroff, a likeably roguish army officer who is prone to sexual
assault and steaking horses with which to exchange for marriage to Tasia.
Ra, ra Rasputin, lover of the Russian queen is
played by Demetrius Alexis, and various other actual characters appear as 2D
cut-outs. Talking of which, likable Charles Farrell is the most unlikely Grand
Duke Eugene, a Russian toff with a heart of gold who wins Tasia’s heart. It
struck me that Farrell is a fine romantic actor so long as he’s with a talented
other half and you can add Delores to the list with Mary Duncan and Janet
Gaynor in this respect.
Long story short, the stakes are raised when the people
revolt and the Cossacks are on the defensive. Now it’s the Trotsky look-alikes
and the evil revolutionary leader with a Germanic monocle who are the enemies
of the people. This disappoints Tasia who announces that “women’s only cause is
love…” and it may be true that love is all you need but this messy lack of
faith in governance via tradition of revolution echoes our present plight and,
yes, there’s an agitator called Boris.
Excellent accompaniment was provided by Masterclass
student Andra Bacila, one of many new and younger faces at this year’s
festival. As the BFI’s Bryony Dixon said in her acceptance speech for the Jean
Mitri award, the Giornate is a focus for world-wide efforts on film
preservation and long may this continue.
And that, m’lords, ladies and gentlepeople, concludes the
proceedings from this blog on Le Giornate del Cinema Muto 43! Thank you too all
of those who made it happen and who I spent time with – let’s twist again in
2025!!
Grazie mille!!
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