Showing posts with label Arthur Robison. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Arthur Robison. Show all posts

Tuesday, 18 April 2017

The Irish questions… The Informer (1929) on Blu-ray/DVD


Last year’s London Film Festival archive gala restoration is now available on sparkling BFI Blu-ray, all the better to show the dark heart of this republican mood piece filmed almost entirely on-set in Elstree. The Informer is set in the context of the fight for Irish independence but it’s mostly about loyalty, love and betrayal: country, friends and lovers, all can be let down in the heat of the moment.

It’s remarkable that an English film of this time – based on Liam O'Flaherty’s 1925 novel - would tell a sympathetic story of republicans so soon after the fact of the uprising and the establishment of the Irish Free State in 1922, the politics may be side-lined but there’s no doubt who these people are and why loyalty matters so much. In her introduction, the BFI’s Bryony Dixon quotes O'Flaherty later writing that he based his story on the style of the cinema and that he wanted to treat his readers “…as a mob orator treats his audience and toy with their emotions…” – there’s a proto-noir feel to a film that is infused with uncertainty and a sense of dread.

Lars Hanson
It’s easy enough to identify with selfless comradeship and the loyalty of lovers but it’s harder to recognise the spiteful urges that drive us all towards betrayal. After that, all that is left is understanding and forgiveness and that is so rare.

As with a number of the best British silent films, The Informer featured European talent, including its German director (Arthur Robison, of Warning Shadows fame) and his cinematographers Werner Brandes and Theodor Sparkuhl, who combine to create such a superbly oppressive world of on-set shadows – as if the darkness was pushing down on the fragile hearts of the cast. There’s plenty of image mobility, especially impressive when the camera moves from where Francis hides as Gypo turns from his mate’s house and walks down an alley across a perfectly-synchronized crowded street to the police station to do the dreaded dirty on his pal…

Lya De Putti and Carl Harbord
Hungarian Lya De Putti (last seen swinging with Emil Jannings in Varieté) is Katie, the woman stirring such strong emotions between best pals Gypo Nolan, played by Sweden’s finest, Lars Hanson and Francis McPhilip played by Carl Harbord of Salcombe, Devon.

The cast is a very strong one bulked out by some great character actors like Warwick Ward as Dan Gallagher commander of the group, Dennis Wyndham as his right-hand man and the mobile mug of Craighall Sherry as his left, Mulholland. Ward was interesting casting, looking so much like the British heroic ideal – hawk-like features and resolute moustache: a man of decision.

Dan Gallagher, Warwick Ward, Craighall Sherry, Lya De Putti, Carl Harbord and Lars Hanson
Daisy Campbell is also very fine as Mrs McPhillip, the woman who loses a son and yet has the faith and heart to bring redemption whilst Johnny Butt is nasty enough as the pimping Publican aiming to make Janice Adair lost-lass Bessie earn her keep no matter what. There’s even a sharpshooter played by young Ray Milland who looks like he might be one to watch in the future.

But it’s all about the magnificent leads… Katie loving Francis then Gypo, Gypo loving Francis but mainly Katie and Gallagher loving his cause above all also.

The film begins with a fire fight as two groups of unknown allegiance battle each other in the streets of Dublin before the Police move in… One of the group, Francis, accidentally shoots the chief of police and must go on the run. He can’t stick it though and returns in secret to the house of Katie Fox his ex-sweetheart only to find that she has moved onto the slightly more dashing Gypo and yet still tries to hide Francis’ presence. It doesn’t work though as Gypo sees more than he ought to and jumps to all the wrong conclusions…

Lars and Lya
It doesn’t take much to tip Gypo over the edge – remember what Lya did to Herr Jannings in Varieté?! – but here she makes double sure forcing him to make the rash decision to gain his revenge by telling the police where his former friend is hiding.  The scene is well constructed as the camera follows Hanson as he marches through Dublin streets towards a cinema just disgorging its audience, to the police station where he is rewarded with twenty pound notes (not pieces of silver…).

No good can come of this but it will not be the last telling betrayal in the film…

Garth Knox - compositional coffee
I’d enjoyed Garth Knox’s new score live and there’s an extra on the disc in which he details the creation of his score aimed at “shaping the silence”. It’s interesting that he tries to put back some of the rougher edges of the characters taken out for the film but very much present in O’Flaherty’s book. He used uilleann pipes and accordion to re-patriate the story in Irish tones and purposely used a small ensemble to recreate the close-quarters dramatics on screen. He goes on to say in the notes that “the idea was to rub the organic grain of the folk sound into the more polished perfection of the… more classical instruments (flute, viola) …” this also contrasts Gypo’s hot blood with Gallagher’s coldness.

Knox takes a strong lead from the actors and I liked his attention to detail when, for instance, Gypo loses sense of his surroundings under stress and the score follows him into detached reverie. It is an emotionally-intelligent and stirring score which largely works in tune albeit occasionally foreshadowing the tumult of the performances and the narrative flow.

Warwick Ward and Lya De Putti before and after restoration
The BFI team having done a superb job on a mix of source materials for this restoration and amongst the extras there’s a comparison showing before and after… well, there is no comparison really. The sound version is also included and was restored ten years ago but just seems lumpen when compared to the fleeting, shadowy nuance of the silent. Again the extras show a comparison; silents were just so much more dramatic at this stage.

There are also a number of Topical Budget newsreels from the period which show the events outside the picture houses... they are terse reminders of tensions that persist to this day.

The Informer is released on DVD/Blu-ray on 24th April and you can order it direct from the BFI shop online

De Valera - I Want Peace (1921)
De Valera's message - I Want Peace (1921)
Protesters outside the Unionist Conference in Liverpool 1921

Saturday, 11 January 2014

Shadow play… Warning Shadows (1923) with John Sweeney, BFI


“The play's the thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king."

A play within a play within a film, the watchers watching the watched, watching their shadow selves and occasionally some shadow puppets… Warning Shadows carries meaning in every dark corner of the screen.

Originally entitled Schatten – Eine nächtliche Halluzination (Shadows - a Nocturnal Hallucination), its simpler English title hints at a more defined meaning but this is expressionism based in uncertain reality and the darkness comes from its cast and characters as much from an absence of light.


Directed by Arthur Robison it was based on an idea by Munau’s Nosferatu collaborator, Albin Grau, who Bryony Dixon, the BFI’s silent archive curator, described as the intellect behind this film in her introduction. She warned us to watch the shadows and not to take anything at face value: sound advice for this most artful film.

True enough there were many well-wrought shadows that suggested physical intimacy when there was none and showed the power of both shadows and projected light to deceive. We witness the inversion of actors with their shadows and then watch a shadow puppet play over their shoulders as they gaze up at the light stage… Who watches the watchers? We do.


How much of what we see in the film is meant to be “real” is open to debate and the film leaves its audience to their own interpretations without a single title card to guide them. It is very much a pantomime and it is played out at its own pace. I’ve seen some reviews criticise both the acting style and the speed of the narrative but that underestimates the challenge presented by this complex offering: which bits of the story are surface narrative and which are taking place underneath and within?


The opening titles immediately indicate that this will be an unusual show as the shadows from two spread hands open the curtains on a stage where the shadows loom larger than their subjects. The actors take a bow – literally – overshadowed… every one replaced by a silhouette as the shadowy hand reveals the troop one by one.

Ruth Weyher and Gustav von Wangenheim in those pants!
Events take place within a noble household somewhere in the romantic Germanic past… a dark and shadowy night. Within the household there is intrigue aplenty with the count (Fritz Kortner, later to be cuckolded by Louise Brooks in Pandora’s Box, he obviously had that kind of face…) jealously watching his vivacious wife (Ruth Weyher) as she toys with the affections of a chivalrous young man (Gustav von Wangenheim) in quite superb pants.

The count thinks back to the unquestioned passion of their early marriage and his dreams are disturbed by the lustful inquisitiveness of all the men around his young wife as she sweeps through their house, a diaphanous distraction frankly all too impressed with herself…

Deceptive shadows...
This sexual obsessiveness is mirrored by the interactions between the staff, with the head footman (Fritz Rasp) keeping a watchful eye on the maid (Lilli Herder) whilst three gentlemen guests - Rudolf Klein-Rogge, Max Gülstorff and Ferdinand von Alten repeatedly move their hands to mime the female form. Then as her ladyship checks her appearance in the mirror they take turns in placing their shadowy hands on her shadowed form… All the count can see are the shadows and his jealous doubts are given form.

Alexander Granach
Watching all of this is a mysterious traveller (Alexander Granach) who turns out to be a shadow player… he pushes his way into the household past an older servant (Karl Platen) with his bag of shadow puppets and, after impressing the Count with his ombromanie, he is allowed to present his shadow play to the dinner guests…

Under the mischievous gaze of the little man, the party progresses with much wine consumed. The males focus increasingly on the lady – jealous, lustful and lovelorn in the case of the stricken youngster. As she dances the Shadowplayer moves the candles behind to reveal the outline of her body to the rapt watchers.

The saucy shadowplayer...
Then the stage is set and the guests watch in a line as the shadow play begins. It’s a story of a Chinese nobleman, his wife and another man who may come between them… as the guests watch, a shadow moves across them and suddenly they are the shadows watching themselves as the night descends into the darkness of their desires and thoughts are translated into actions.

The count's worst nightmare...
The Lady takes herself off to her room to be soon followed by the young man as all of the Count’s fears come to pass… and as his blood rises he sees himself revealed as a cuckold as his shadow falls on a deer’s antlers in his study (horns and antlers were a common symbol of a "cuckolded" husband back in old Europe…). He sets about wreaking a terrible revenge one that shames the entire household in its prolonged, brutal inevitability.

Revenge is bitter
And yet… suddenly the light shifts again. All is well and they appear to have experienced a collective hallucination courtesy of the mysterious shadowgrapher who, restoring their shadows to their rightful places, plays out the final part of the Chinese shadow play against a backdrop of their relief.

Has he saved them from their fate, was this play a warning or are they in some way still bewitched? Answers on a postcard please… As he leaves the village he straddles a large pig a sure sign of devilment. But he leaves the guests changed, resolved to avoid the potential catastrophe they have just experienced or set on a longer course to the same destination. The answer is in the shadows…

Shadows switch sides...
Robison directs with aplomb and plaudits must go to his cameraman, Fritz Arno Wagner who captures the dark with such precision. The cast pantomime superbly with Kortner blowing his gaskets and Ruth Weyher sashaying convincingly as the vamp with the lamp behind her…

John Sweeney is one of the leading silent accompanists and played along with expert restraint and expression, illuminating events with romantic flourishes and gothic grace.


An absorbing live experience, you can also watch Warning Shadows on a DVD from Kino – it’s available direct or from Amazon… a film to make you ponder as you watch it over.

Remember how much trouble Peter Pan had in catching his shadow? I now know a little about how that feels…