A cut above… His Majesty the Barber (1928) with Donald Sosin, Le Giornate del Cinema Muto Streaming, Day Four

Swedish comedy, it’s what we live for isn’t it, but there’s ample evidence that it’s not all thousand yard stares, dying in the snow or being chased over ice floes by wolves. Take this film, a perfectly ordinary tale of a man who may, or may not, be an actual barber and who is operating as a street hair-stylist in complete ignorance of a royal heritage that might immediately make him question his choice of career. Sounds plausible doesn’t it but director Ragnar Hyltén-Cavallius* has some form in this arena having produced the marvel of mirth that is A Sister of Six (aka Die sieben Töchter der Frau Gyurkovics, aka Flickorna Gyurkovics) an extraordinarily silly film that featured Britain’s Queen of Happiness (no, not Camilla Parker Bowles but Betty Balfour!).

As with this early concoction, HM the Barber is what was termed a euro-pudding in the days before the English got very unnecessary about such mixed ingredients. Luckily, GB was not involved and this film was a coproduction between Sweden and Germany not to mention Tirania, that ancient state nestled in the lower regions of the Ruritanian Alps.

There was an international cast too with Swedes Julius Falkenstein (known from films by Lubitsch, Murnau, and Lang), actress-director Karin Swanström (whose last directed film was the marvellous Girl in Tails (Flickan i frack) (1926), and the teen Brita Appelgren, who, born in December 1912. must have been just 15 during filming; a scandic Loretta Young in looks and youth. She gives a remarkably mature performance and I had her at least in her twenties…

 

“I have forgotten Gösta Ekman’s blue eyes, / for your South American-Spanish charm.”

Enrique Riveros and Brita Appelgren: combined age 36

The romantic hero/barber/potential Prince Nickolo was played by the Chilean actor Enrique Riveros who was much older at 21 and bizarrely touted as the Swedish Valentino. There was a poem in the Swedish program booklet which compares him favourably to other home-grown stars but, Ekman’s one thing, surely Lars Hanson was beyond this comparison. Marketing folk eh? He ended up working with Jean Renoir, Alberto Cavalcanti, and, Jean Cocteau, enjoying a decent career across Europe.

The German, Hans Junkermann plays the key role of André Gregory, the local barber and is the centre of much comedy as well as the underlying plot.

 

We begin with some missing footage, covered for by production (?) screen shots showing the arrival of handsome young Nickolo (Enrique Riveros) who is returning back to his village after completing his university degree. He seems to distract a young woman driving a car, Astrid Svensson we later learn played by young Brita Appelgren, who almost crashes into an explosives store, or what appears to be. It’s not the best of starts for this attractive young couple but so it goes.

 

Karin Swanström and Julius Falkenstein

Nickolo may be postgraduate but he hasn’t forgotten how to handle a pair of scissors and greeting his Grandad André in his shop, mid-shave, he immediately tries to take over. André wants him to better himself but first the young man wants to cut hair to help the old man. Whilst they lose their first customer arguing over this – he finishes off his own shave in the end – Nickolo’s radical hair technology – he can cut a “shingle” and puts up a sign announcing this fact and his newly-arrived expertise! This works with the local youngsters and one is especially keen, Karin (Maria Paudler) a friend of Astrid, who arrives to see that the man who is cutting her new style if the one who almost caused her to crash. She laughs cruelly as his air of confidence seeing him placed in the lowly circumstances of a hairdressers.

 

Long hair – A woman’s most beautiful asset!

I, Sophie Svensson, was by the age of twenty COMPLETELY BALD.

I have obtained my 160 centimeter long, naturally curled, GIANT-LORELEI-HAIR by daily use of the – by myself invented – patented SOPHIE SVENSSON’S HAIR TONIC

 

The reason for Karin’s social confidence is soon revealed as she is the granddaughter of hair tonic millionaire Sophie Svensson (Karin Swanström) whose premature Alopecia areata led her to fame, fortune and a huge mansion. She also has expectations of a noble marriage for Karin and has lined up Count Claës-Adam Edelstjerna (Julius Falkenstein) as the perfect noble suitor not that he impresses Karin who rather quaintly wants to marry a man she likes or, failing that, is at least a king.

Brita Appelgren

Now, it’s funny she should mention that, but Grandad André knows more about this topic than he lets on and it’s something to do with his so-called Grandson. A ship from his home country of Tirania, arrives and he meets with two former government ministers von Alyhr (Georg Blomstedt) and General Kirwan (Fritz Alberti) who are working to reinstate the monarchy, desposed twenty years earlier, and keep on turning up in Sweden to ask for “contributions” from André.

 

The target is now close and so André asks his friend Sophie Svensson to loan him the money to help fund the coup… the bonus for her being that Nickolo, who Karin now much prefers to the old Count after an ice-breaking adventure in which the couple get marooned on a rock, is the nobility she’s always dreamed of… Or is he?

 

The film has some delightful interplay between the characters and the comedy morphs into something like a thriller as betrayals are revealed. It’s great fun though and the cast are a joy throughout.

   

Hans Junkermann and Karin Swanström

 As with every country invested in the fantasy state business, Sweden had its own reasons with royal marriage speculation of the time ending with Princess Astrid of Sweden married Belgian’s Crown Prince Leopold, which may account for the choice of name for the film’s female lead? As for the Belgian royal family, perhaps the least said the better given the activities of the Prince’s grandfather King Leopold II. Royal fantasy always outstripped the inconvenient truths of royal reality.

*Ragnar Hyltén-Cavallius also wrote the script for one of the greatest Swedish silent films, The Saga of Gosta Berling (1924) as well as two other adaptations of Selma Lagerlöf’s work Ingmar's Inheritance (1925) and To the Orient (1926). All three featured the legendary Swedish prima ballerina and actress, Jenny Hasselqvist which gives me the excuse to reproduce a couple of shots of her dancing on an English beach in 1919.

 

She’s dancing for joy as she knows the SFI restoration of Gosta Berling is out in the world and that, sooner or later, it will be screened in a cinema in which I am sitting. Tack så mycket!!

Marlene's Black Bottom... Café Elektric (1927), with John Sweeney, Ciné Lumière

This film is so well restored/preserved with a crispness that gives an impression that the performers have only just left the room and so it is a surprise to find that the last reel is missing. Even though we find out what happens from a closing intertitle it is sad that what remains is in good enough quality to make the whole enterprise appear so vibrantly extant.

 

Café Elektric is one of those many silent films Marlene Dietrich said she couldn’t remember making – she claimed just three at one point but it’s at least 19 – and whilst she’s not the main star she stands out not just for all tomorrow’s parts but for the visceral beauty that would lead to those future opportunities. Here she’s a spoilt rich girl who wants a walk on the wild side only to find she leads others into a world they can’t simply buy their way out of. We see her now through the afterglow of her unique star power and here, all foresight aside, is one special energy being displayed.

 

She’s far from alone in this film with Willi Forst displaying presence of his own as the petty criminal, Fredl. At the start of the film his character is shown stealing a woman’s purse and then makes light of the police chase through the streets of Vienna as he’s no doubt done many times before. Forst and Dietrich were appearing in the musical Broadway at the time which was her entre to this film and, apparently, she was almost dropped from the role until Forst insisted she stay*.

Willi Forst

We then switch to young Erni (Marlene) dancing rumbustiously to a jazz band with one of her many suitors, she’s got some moves and as her partner quips, dances very fast. Meanwhile her father, rich industrialist Göttlinger (Fritz Alberti), is flirting with his much younger lover (Anny Coty) which may be a comment on his hypocritical attitude – and yes, all men - to his daughter’s sexuality. He is interrupted by his architect Max (Igo Sym) who has the look of a man weighed down by the burden of working all the hours so that his boss can indulge himself.

 

Forst goes to spend his ill-gotten gains at the jazz club where, glancing around the room, his eyes chance upon a pair of stunning legs and there’s some in-camera trickery to give us his focused response to these shapely pins, just to emphasize the point. The limbs in question belong, naturlich, to Erni, and as Fredl instructs the band to play the Black Bottom, we see a faster and more furious display than the previous turn… and this time it is Erni’s turn to remark on the speed of the dance. Forst is, indeed, a quick mover and he gets a big tip and Erni’s phone number for his troubles.

 

Fredl heads off to the Café Elektric where he pimps off a number of women, including the experienced Paula (Vera Salvotti) and the innocent looking Hansi (Nina Vanna). Hansi’s very popular and there’s the sweet middle-aged Dr. Lehner (Wilhelm Völcker) with a soft spot for her… who may represent her potential for another life. Hansi’s tough and tries to shortchange Fredl but she’s still too young for this place, and not old enough for the possibility of escape…

 

Guess who?

Erni is supposed to go out with Max but can’t resist the chance to cheat by seeing Fredl. Telling Max she’s off to see a sick friend, she’s unfortunately spotted by the disconsolate designer leaving with Fredl. There’s a fascinating juxtaposition of the ex-couple’s evenings as Erni proceeds to get drunk on champagne with Fredl and Max meets Hansi and there’s a lovely exchange of chaste glances across the table before he finally cracks seeing a drawing she’s made on the table of them talking.

 

Fredl and Erin – shockingly – go back to his place but Hansi and Max go to see a Rin Tin Tin film at the Kino. As Erin gets dressed – no chance wasted to show Dietrich’s body in lingerie – Hansi and Max glance at a hotel before she tells him good night. A contrast in courtship you wouldn’t expect in a Hollywood film, especially one with Rin Tin Tin, although I’m sure Lubitsch could cover the same ground with cups and saucers…

 

Nina Vanna and Igo Sym

The contrasts in the relationships grow starker as Fredl asks Erni to get him money to cover his ill-gotten debts… she steals a ring and some money from her father’s safe. And now things get complicated… as the rich girl’s folly leads to Max being suspected of the theft when Göttlinger, in the midst of a drunken pass, notices the missing ring on Hansi’s finger after Fredl has gifted it to her in an attempt to win her affection, clearly as far as Erni goes, he's only in it for the money. The police are called and as things look bleak for Max, Hansi points the finger – literally – at Fredl, who is duly arrested and sent down.

 

Despite his innocence, Max is fired by mean old Göttlinger and lives with Hansi as he fruitlessly searches for a job as a journalist – I’m not sure why he chose not to continue with architecture… Will the couple go under before Hansi has to return to her old profession, can they survive together and will old scores be settled?

 

Café Elektric (1927) is thoroughly entertaining drama with Gustav Ucicky directing what could be an over-loaded narrative with clarity of purpose. He certainly gets the best out of his cast and the performances are of a high level, whilst we get some choice location shots and a real feel for the night life. The dance sequences are energetic and Erni and Fredl’s Black Bottom is Tik-Tok ready if you want to slow down the steps at the start. I think we need to see this on Strictly Come Dancing.

 

Of course, there’s few more accomplished accompanists for dance and John Sweeney did a spectacular job for the Black Bottom and the club scenes whilst illustrating the drama and comedy with a firm grasp of period as well as his practiced way with musical narrative. I love the space at the Cine Lumiere and John’s piano being also up on the stage gives the sound the chance to fully fill up the room.

 

I came to see Marlene but, as is always the case, there was so much else to enjoy. Merci beaucoup Ciné Lumière et l’ Institut français!

*As per this fascinating article at StummFilm Archiv.

Igo Sym, who taught Marlene to play the musical saw*...

Jenny Hasselqvist on the edge - Brennende Grenze (1927)

This is a long film – 146 minutes – and one that gives ample time for its leading players to express themselves in lengthy close-up. There are none more expressive-impressive than Jenny Hasselqvist who has the highest level of physical and emotional control along with the grace and force of being also one of the leading prima ballerinas of the age.

Director Erich Waschneck made the most of this beguiling asset and in one sublime sequence the whole effort of the film is made worthwhile… with her character’s son having just killed the leader of the occupying soldiers, she turns from the door after waving him away and agonises for long moments – hands clasped in flickering resolution and arms dropped in despair: how can they escape from retribution, how can she save him?

Jenny H

I’ve compared Jenny H to Isabelle Huppert before and I think that is more valid than ever after watching this film. Two actors who can pack more emotional signalling into their deeply-generous features and never overplay; always holding something back of their truth… leaving that ultimate connection to the watcher.

There are numerous moments in which Waschneck lets his actors’ reactions tell the story – the action is mostly implied off-screen – and this is a psychologically-driven drama with relatively few title cards.

Farmer and fist

A German farmer is confronted by the Captain of the occupying Polish forces; he stares in resistance at the platoon on horseback in front of him, clenching his fists with his granite features frozen in preparation, the camera switches from face to fist, face to gun until the spell is broken as the Captain shoots his hand… Waschneck does not need to show us a battle to reveal the tensions of occupation.

Brennende Grenze (Burning Border) is based in the aftermath of the Great War when an independent Polish state was established after a century of partitions from Germany, Austria-Hungary and Russia. A series of border wars lasted until 1922 when national boundaries were finally settled.

Here come the Poles

During this border struggle – Grenzkampf – there were many injustices on both sides and this film, being German, focuses on the incursions into previously-German territory years before Poland was re-invaded.

Jenny Hasselqvist plays Luise von Will Bold, a widower left with a grand house defended only by the old-guard of the German army and her loyal staff. Her 18 year-old son, Heino (Hubert von Meyerinck) is a new recruit in the army and is shown writing to his mother (Hasselqvist was only 33 when the film was made) from the front lines. He hands his letter to a cavalryman and we see it wend its way through montage of rail and road to his mother, who is busily engaged in entertaining local notables all with a keen eye on this noble widow.

The commander and his gal...

Reading the letter Luise realises how much danger her son is in and the mood of the evening changes. The next morning Polish riders appear at the house for that well-wrought confrontation between the fist of the land manager and the commander of the Polish troops, Ladislaus von Zeremski (Hans Adalbert Schlettow).

At the house, Luis smiles at the pigs running through the hall, only to be greeted by the farmer; his bandaged hand economically explaining the outcome of the confrontation… another transition from happy to sad: her face literally says it all.

Oskar Homolka: what shall they do with the drunken sailor?

Meanwhile the invaders have quickly made themselves at home and are drinking the house dry led by a drunken sailor played by Oskar Homolka, an Austrian actor who enjoyed a huge career and was the star of many a sixties spy romp as a Russian or generic Euro-baddy for hire – he’s  great fun here as an emblem of the ill-disciplined occupiers.

Zeremski frolics with his moll, Nadja (Olga Chekhova) as baddies do but even these two have a human side, she treading on his toe as she rides their unwilling host and even showing vulnerability – this war has made them all a little mad and fear runs the day.

A soldier but still a son

An uneasy peace reigns and then Luis’ son returns home, found by his would-be sweetheart, Marlene (Camilla Spira), Luise’s housekeeper who  tells  her mistress and helps the soldier disguise himself as a waiter. The boy seems just that, gladly being cradled in his mother’s arms in a counter point to nasty Nadja’s moment of angst. But Heino is on the cusp of manhood and it takes all of his strength to resist knocking Zeremski to the ground after he starts dancing with Luise… this conflict throws the natural order up in the air and the commander is keen to taste the high life.

Fritz Alberti

But emotions really start to churn as one of Luis’ old loves, the traitor Tobias Raschoff (Fritz Alberti) re-appears as the Polish government’s nominated Commissioner… there’s a great reaction shot from Hasselqvist as she turns from playing the piano in her drawing room to face this man she loved so much but who now seems destined to be her oppressor.

And we’re hardly half-way through…

Martial law and the invaders out of control...

Martial law is declared and the Polish troops rampage through the town, taking their Kontribution – as they please. Tobias Raschoff takes a long walk in the country – his home soil - and we see from his pain that he is not as clear cut a collaborator as he seems. He has already sent his chauffeur off with a message trying to hold back the incursion but he is intercepted and Zeremski confronts him with his note… Nothing can now stop his troop from marching further.

One  man walks alone with his guilt?

Some spoilers…

But Raschoff is canny and takes the bull by the horns as the officers celebrate, ensuring they all get as drunk as possible, including the spiteful Nadja… a riot breaks out as the foot soldiers crowd at windows faces pressed against windows. Despite the party play – Waschneck builds a magnificent tension throughout – and scores will be settled.

Nadja runs riot on the table top dancing the full length before collapsing… she’s carried up to her room by  Zeremski’s Adjutant (Hugo Werner) who he orders to despatch Tobias: we see him enter and the door closes… one on one.

Heino bides his time waiting on Zeremski

Zeremski then heads up to have his evil way with Luise only to find his way blocked by the mysterious young waiter who has been an irritant all along… he raises his knife to strike and… Waschneck cuts once again, but we’d already seen the axe in Heino’s hand.

There’s so much to resolve in these final moments and the strands are brought together in dramatic fashion: love of mother for son, for country and each other triumphing against anarchy and opportunism – a message as welcome in Weimar Germany as any time since.

I watched the copy on the European Film Gateway which is as you can see low-resolution but watchable enough to show the performance skill and the cinematography of Friedl Behn-Grund. There’s no score so you just have to imagine and the German intertitles are a good excuse to brush up your translating skills but, in truth, they’re hardly needed such is the excellence of the performance.

Maybe one day Die Edition Filmmuseum may digitise for DVD or some kind souls will project on the big screen where it belongs.

The border