Showing posts with label Elena Makowska. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Elena Makowska. Show all posts

Monday, 31 May 2021

Addio Giovezza! (1918 and 1927), Augusto Genina, Cineteca Bologna Box Set


You men are all Judases. Even when you kiss you betray…


These were the second and third adaptations of Sandro Camasio and Nino Oxilia’s wildly successful 1911 play, the first, in 1913, made by the playwrights themselves. Oxilia went on to write and direct including two of my favourite Diva films Rapsodia satanica (1917) and Sangue blu (1914) both with Lyda Borelli.


They’re part of a new set from Cineteca Bologna that collates four of the director’s work, majoring with a quite wonderful restored silent version of Il Prezzo Della Bellezza (1930), aka Prix de Beauté which, as you all know, stars Louise Brooks in full radiance. That film alone makes this set worth buying at all costs and as soon as possible, but the other films give a fascinating insight into Genina’s work of which so little survives. In their booklet introduction, Mariann Lewinsky and Andrea Meneghelli explain the difficulty in analysing the director’s work based on so few films.


Genina did not always make great films, but in each film he made, he knew how to encapsulate a world…


Ruggero Capodaglio and Lido Manetti in 1918


This is certainly true for his stunning, colourised Cyrano de Bergerac (1922) as well as these films both of which are based in Turin University… Genina also brought out the best in his performers from the sympathetic slapstick of our hero Mario’s sidekick, Leone, to fulsome roles for his lead actresses who are emotionally dominant throughout.


In 1918, Mario’s love interest is his landlady’s daughter Dorina who is played by Maria Jacobini who is a most compelling watch, quickly striking you with her warmth and range of expression. As Lewinsky says, it is she rather than Lido Manetti - later Arhold Kent acting in the US – who is the centre of the film even though his character Mario is the nominal focus.


Jacobini had been in a relationship with Nino Oxilia until his death in late 1917 when he had been planning his own remake of the play… it’s hard not to view her performance and the film itself as a tribute. She was the surprise of this package and I’d like to see more of this contemporary of Francesca Bertini – same age and experience but so different in style.


Maria Jacobini and Lido Manetti (later Arhold Kent)


The story is fairly easily summarised but is clearly so malleable as the various remakes show. Small town boy Mario leaves his loving parents behind to study law in Turin. En route he meets the comically short-sighted Leone (Ruggero Capodaglio) who is also to study law, and the two quickly bond; friends for life by the time the train arrives.


They face fresher humiliation together as they are tricked into paying for a huge round of drinks by some senior students… so much changes and yet so little, eh first years? They go in search of a room on the fourth floor of a cheap house being rented by a woman and her seamstress daughter, Dorina. Mario likes the look of both room and girl as does his myopic pal, but, as usual, Leone loses out. Gradually Mario raises the courage to tell Dorina that he likes her and soon his studies take on a broader remit.


The years pass and as finals approach an enigmatic and beautiful woman comes for a fitting at the dressmakers below their apartment. It is Elena played by, erm, Elena Makowska one of the Diva class actors who could hardly have been better cast as the elegantly illusive clothes horse who clearly gets what she wants. Yes folks, a “Jolene” scenario is about to take place as the mystery beauty sets her intense gaze on young Mario and the two click via a lovely set piece in the opera as he searches the stalls and galleries for the lady with camelias originally given to him by Dorina.


Elena Makowska looking like a Diva!

This treacherous play by Mario rather undermines our sympathies and Genina wisely distracts us with a farcical set-up for his planned assignation with Elena in his room. The place is filled with flowers and he gets Leone to pretend that it’s for him so that poor Dorina suspects nothing… but she wasn’t born yesterday. Everything is set until the students start to strike in protest at a reduction in exams… they need their lawyer, Mario to lead the protest…


Convincingly these are people still learning in and out of university and whilst the lessons are sometimes hard, they can also be unexpected.


Augusto Bandini three years before he met Louise Brooks

Move forward almost a decade, and we have a version with a different focus on character.


This version, whilst technically an upgrade, doesn’t always have the edge over 1918 especially as the latter is a fuller version and there are some parts missing especially at the end – the run time was originally 87 minutes and what survives is only just over an hour. Both have their visual strengths and noteworthy performers.


Now, I’m not claiming to be an expert on the films of Cliff Richard but after some time watching the 1927 version, I realised that the young lead was Walter Slezak, who plays Susan Hampshire’s grumpy director dad in Wonderful Life (1964). That aside, he had a distinguished career and it’s always interesting to see younger versions of actors you know only in later life.


Here Slezak’s Mario is more of the fulcrum and the real drama is between the two women, in this case Carmen Boni’s Dorina and Elena Sangro’s Elena who, whilst lacking her predecessor’s ethereality puts in a more convincing performance, acting Elena’s way to Mario’s heart and showing a good deal more tenderness in the process towards her helpless rival.


Walter Slezak


Another familiar face pops up and promptly falls over and it’s Prix de Beauté’s Augusto Bandini getting more laughs than Leone No. 1 with his greater physicality and comic energy. Leone’s myopia may well be real but there’s one uncomfortable instance on the train ride to Turin when he sits down next to an actress in black face and then quickly shuffles away once he gets close enough to detect her skin colour; a reminder of the way the wind was blowing in Italy at the time where Il Duce was already premier.


The new friends arrive at University and face the same ragging from the more experienced students, before ending up in the student bar, The Ark, where we witness a comic rundown of some of the student types; the Hippo, the Giraffe Piggy and a shapely pair of legs named Leda – shades of the director’s fascination with Brooks’ pins in Prix.


Carmen Boni


They find their rooms and Dorina, with Carmen Boni’s gamine delicacy a contrast to Maria Jacobini’s more physical performance.  There’s more of a focus on their friendship group and one delightful sequence in which a portable record player is set up and the youngsters dance along in ways reminiscent of Brian Ferry’s backing singers… their moves are robotic and comically stylised – the youth dancing to sounds with an appeal laughably obscure to one of Genina’s generation. Timeless inter-generational confusion, which brings us back to Slezak and Cliff…


As they romp, the vamp is downstairs getting her clothes fitted, marvelling at the youthful energies and planning her introduction to Mario. His betrayal of Dorina is again bitterly pragmatic, a young man who can’t say know to a more experienced offer; is this his real education and is the answer to focus on himself and his studies more? As Dorina’s quote at the top says, perhaps all men can be faithless when it comes to love and ambition.


Elena Sangro


Both films make the choice to buy this set an easy one – even without Brooksie – although the cover photo and multiple images of her legs emerging from the car at the lakeside, show that Cineteca Bologna know their main selling point.


You can buy the disc direct from them or from Amazons who place it in the “Books” section because of the lovely booklet which is very informative on the actors and the films.



 

Wednesday, 4 October 2017

Filmspotting… Carmen (1918) with Gabriel Thibadeau and Cristina Nadal, Pordenone Giorno Cinque



Choose life, choose a Russian documentary, choose an Italian serial, travelogues, documentaries… choose The Right to Happiness!? I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got Pola Negri?

In other words, this is the point in the Giornate del Cinema Muto race when you just hang on and hope there’s a sprint finish left in the tank: film-watching here is like long-distance running but this race in Pordenone is far from lonely, the locals are friendly and a lovelier bunch of cineastes you couldn’t wish for!

Today was surely peak Pordenone in terms of content-volume a 14-hour dash filled with variety: chose food, chose sleep, chose espresso, chose to eat, chose to get a life. I chose film. Although it started off in confusion…

Alberto Capozzi, Il fiacre n. 13 (1917)
Il Fiacre N. 13 (1917) directed by Alberto A. Capozzi and Gero Zambuto is a rare example of a surviving Italian adventure serial – like Fillibus – and this one is also heavily indebted to the French and, indeed adapted from a novel by Xavier Henri Aymon Perrin, Count of Montépin. Unlike Fillibus, what we have remaining does not necessarily make sense… the first section having been heavily censored. There’s a huge amount of exposition and it’s highly-likely that this very handsome artefact has all of the right elements, just not necessarily in the right order… Who done it? Possibly all of them, apart from, maybe, the kid!

It does look very fine especially with Elena Makowska – Diva of the week! – and has some lovely composition, locations and cinematography. The first episode is a reconstruction and things gradually made more sense as we eventually resolved all of the twenty-years’ worth of plot lines.

Donald Sosin and Mauro Colombis took two each of the four episodes and coped with every unexpected twist and turn with melodic assurance.

It was now time to travel both in time and space with two documentaries. The first was the most naturalistic - Viaggio in Caucaso e Persia (1910) – a fascinating voyage of discovery captured by 26-year old Mario Piacenza in the most difficult of circumstances and yet which captures natural reactions from people who may never have seen a film let alone a movie camera. That takes an honest film-maker… the camera is always a two-way lens.

Soviet Union 1932...
Next was Aleksei Lebedev’s Daleko Na Sever (Far in the North) (1932) which showed some astonishing landscapes of soviet oil fields which looked more alien than Aelita’s Mars… huge towers crowding the landscape to fuel Stalin’s first five-year plan. This took seven in the end, despite the film’s trumpeting of soviet superiority over other European countries…

Stephen Horne accompanied both films with the eerie elegance they required, it must be strange to have to respond and react to the less defined narrative of travelogues even allowing for the director’s messaging.


A presentation was then made to the recipient of the 2017 Haghefilm Digitaal Fellowship, Samuel B. Lane, from New Mexico. Sam had been involved in restoring a collection of twenty 35mm rolls of Lumière films dated around 1896-1903 that was recently found (in their original containers) and acquired by the George Eastman Museum. A selection of the films was projected and needless to say they are beautiful slices of history. More details and the films can be found on the festival website.

Propaganda wasn’t simply limited to the Russians and we saw The Right to Happiness (1919) an American film as part of a strand celebrating the centenary of the Bolshevik Revolution…  The Red Peril: The Russian Revolution and American Anti-Bolshevism. All I can say is if this was the best USA could come up with during eth “Red Scare” then I’m really surprised they weren’t over-run by 1920. Still it is fascinating history and primary documentation if not necessarily interesting cinema.
 
Now for that sprint: Pola’s back and she’s got Ernst with her and they’re Carmen to get you!


Carmen (1918) directed by Lubitsch and starring Negri ended my day on a high mostly because of the latter’s incredible swagger! The story may not pay huge respect to the original – it feels like Lubitsch is straining to escape the bounds of the narrative and Pola… well Pola is in force of nature mode. It’s such a contrast to her performance in The Yellow Ticket and reveals her almost unrivalled sense of mischief: she’s so easily distracted, eyes flicking around looking for action, exasperated with the lack of male spirit around her… Harry Liedtke’s hapless Juan refuses her offer of escape from prison and she just rolls her eyes and starts to look for something more hi-energy, a bull-fighter perhaps.

There’s little evidence of the Lubitsch Touch at this stage but there’s invention and a classy pull-away in the crowd of a party that is almost the reverse of the Parisian nightclub scene from Wings shown on the festival site and from a decade later.

The musical accompaniment of Gabriel Thibadeau (piano) and Cristina Nadal (cello) brought out the playfulness and the melodrama. Cristina's playing showed how soulful and flexible the cello can be: mournful one minite and jazz-bouncy the next!

“You are a fierce man and I like it..."
Stefan Droessler’s programme notes quote Pola Negi’s memoires in which she said, “...even though the world around us was falling to pieces, Lubitsch and I shared many antic moments on the set. Perhaps we could only have flowered so successfully in the Berlin of that period…”

How many artistic movements of note come from fleeting opportunity and a relatively small group of key players? The folk at Pordenone may have a better idea than most – you feel connected to the wider silent world here and there are so many youngsters coming through, playing, programming and otherwise promoting silent film.

Monday, 2 October 2017

Lars stars and Pola powers... Pordenone seconda parte

Day two and it was a leap into the unkown or rather the unwatched. Familiar faces in some cases but stories that had been lost or simply not been allowed out very much. I’m relatively new to this cinema muto lark and the joy is still very much there in discovery.
 
Why do we like silent film? It's the maths... 90% of human communication is non-verbal and perhaps our deepest instinct is to study faces, body language and the thousand tiny betrayals of true feeling. On a human level silent film is primal in more ways than one.

Today we had a number of stand-out emotional performances that spoke genuinely to our media-saturated senses in ways our monkey-minds instantly recognised: Handsome Lars Hanson’s infinite bewilderment, Febo Mari’s earthy spirit conveyed even when half-human (half cow? Not my period...) and, of course, Pola’s energy with anthracite eyes conveying dangerous levels of passion, her dancer’s grace enabling contorted communications that render title cards redundant. The words just get in the way, we only need to look, to see.

No wonder they had to get married after this film and for 45 years!
Lars opened and for almost the whoe day was in poll position with his performance in  John W. Brunius Synnöve Solbakken (A Norway Lass) (1919), one of so many Swedish pictures which attempted to recreate traditional rural life. Here his character Thorbjörn, starts as a boy led astray by an impish farm hand Aslak (manically-mischievous Einar Rød) who prefers the Devil’s work to his day job, spending more time filling the farmer’s son’s head with tales of trolls living up the hill in the Solbakken’s farm.

Up that hill is of course, Synnöve the girl who takes Thorbjörn’s fancy and most of the boys in the neighbourhood. She grows up to become Karin Molander and Thorbjörn must fight the others and, most of all, himself to gain the control and respect required to win her hand. Like so many of the best Swedish films of this time, this one moves a hand-cart pace with so much lingering detail of landscape, labour and love… a cracking film with real energy between the two leads who went on to marry in 1920 and for the rest of Hanson’s life. Was this a Mary and Buddy moment? Felt like it.

I love Italian cinema of this period also and with Lyda, Pina and Francesca otherwise occupied, Febo Mari’s Fauno (1917) gave us the chance to appreciate a diva who was, in soccer parlance, well-placed for the 4th Champions League spot; Elena Makowska! She’s not alone as Nietta Mordeglia actually plays the lead but it’s the look as well as the performance and both excel.

Faun stars: Nietta Mordeglia and Febo Mari
It helps that they play off the great divo Febo Mari who we believe entirely when he says: “Do not run from me. I am love.” Well, I couldn’t carry that off but even as a statue come to life with hooves and really hairy legs, he has a torso to die for and a style that makes this operatically-daft ploy work well. It’s more of a poem than a drama and just a joy to watch with luxuriant tints throughout.

This was good but then the Pola flares started in the evening performance of The Yellow Ticket (Der Gelbe Schein) (1918) a German film that started out as anti-Russian propaganda and which would have been destroyed for its Jewish content had it not been hidden in the war to come. It is not a great story but it is a very neat one and a well-made film with some interesting composition and camerawork.

The film's main achievement is to recognise the value of it’s lead and there is a satisfyingly-huge amount of Negri content with the young actress given the chance to show her complex movements as well as passionate delivery. She is mesmerising in this film and the restoration projected pays glorious tribute to her ability to hold the eye and, in those human terms mentioned at the top... when you’re watching Pola Negri you get the point.

American title... a bit more sensationalist
There was a very interesting new score from Alicia Svigals performed by herself and Marilyn Lerner, I especially appreciated the violin which was played as if the centuries weighing upon its strings was being cast off. My uncle, a professional violinist loved the work of Jascha Heifetz and he would have really have liked this.

We also watched: There’s a cheeky strand of shorts entitled Nasty Women but really they’re just really funny and for me, the funniest today was Louise Fazenda in the Mack Sennett comedy, Are Waitresses Safe? (1917). Victor Heerman directs and the answer has to be, absolutely not! There’s a guy in this film looks just like Ben Turpin, really, check it out! 

Stephen Horne and Frank Bockius took the breaks off for this film’s climactic four-way battle, beating their piano and drums to within an inch of their ebony and indeed ivory.

I’d also never seen L'Emigrante (1915) before and it was brief but powerful; a little sprint classic in an Olympics of silent film. In what remains of Febo Mari’s film we see the great stage actor Ermete Zacconi play a peasant struggling for work as he emigrates from Italy to South America. He finds a job but is betrayed by the company who fool him into signing away his rights.

A reminder of just how low a de-regulated economy can sink - Brexit Bulldogs beware! This week I am totally enjoying being a part of Europe!